Chapter 16
Hazel's POV
The sound of water hitting porcelain echoed faintly from the bathroom, a soft rhythm that seemed to pound against my chest. I sat there, my eyes fixed on the door, my mind drifting into places I shouldn't go. Thoughts I shouldn't be having.
My cheeks burned as images formed in my head—heated, forbidden scenes that made my pulse quicken. I quickly cleared my throat, trying to drag myself back to reality. To distract myself, I focused on the phone in my hands.
The script for the audition filled the screen. I was set to audition for the role of Sarah—the second female lead. A woman wronged by fate, always misunderstood, always silenced. She was deeply in love with her boss, but she dared not confess it. Even when he forced himself on her one night, she bore the pain quietly. When her sister shamelessly claimed to be the woman from that night, Sarah swallowed her truth.
Even when she found herself pregnant.
Even when she gave birth.
She remained silent.
Her story was one of unrequited love, devotion without recognition.
"This character is full of emotion," I whispered, sighing, my eyes drifting once again toward the bathroom door.
The creak of hinges snapped my attention back.
Val stepped into the room.
Fresh from the shower, droplets clung to his damp skin, glistening under the dim light. The scent of aged wine drifted with him, intoxicating, thick, heavy. His tall frame moved with effortless grace, muscles flexing beneath a loosely tied towel that hung around his waist. Every inch of him radiated dominance, power, masculine allure.
My throat went dry.
My gaze betrayed me, sliding down his chest, tracing the perfect 'V' cut of his waistline.
When he turned, my eyes froze on the tattoo carved across his back. I had never really looked at him this closely before. I'd always avoided staring too long. I knew how dangerous it was to truly take in his beauty—his body was temptation wrapped in flesh, his face something unearthly, carved to lure and consume.
But now, I couldn't look away.
The tattoo.
It wasn't just ink. It was a beast—its eyes hollow, its body alone, radiating sorrow.
Was this Val's heart?
Lonely. Heavy. Silent.
My chest tightened.
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, my hand reached out. My palm rested against his back. His skin was cold beneath my touch, and I felt the subtle stiffening of his body at the contact.
Slowly, my fingers slid down, brushing over the raised scar hidden beneath the ink.
"Does it hurt?" I whispered. The question wasn't just for his scar—it was for everything. The tattoo, the silence he lived in, the emotions he buried so deep.
"Feeling sorry for me?" His voice was sharp, his words laced with bitterness. He turned, towering over me, his eyes locking onto mine.
And then I saw it.
For the briefest moment, a golden haze flickered in his irises.
My breath caught. A shiver raced down my spine.
"I… I…" My words faltered, dissolving into the charged air between us.
"What?" His voice dropped, low and husky. "Seducing me? Why has your pheromones turned… peachy?"
His gaze didn't waver. It pierced into me, heavy, suffocating, burning. My body trembled under it.
Shivers crawled over my skin, but I couldn't tell if it was fear… or expectation.
"You're having a 'preheat'… like an omega," he said at last, his lips curling slightly as though amused. "Your biology is changing. And it amuses me."
He brushed past me, but as he moved away, I felt it—disappointment, subtle but undeniable.
Why?
Why did I sense that from him?
Everything about him was a puzzle I couldn't solve.
His words circled in my head. Preheat. So that was why my body felt this strange, needy warmth. A craving I didn't want to name. Was I… really becoming like an omega? The thought alone made my heart pound wildly.
Val reached for his nightwear, but something was wrong. His shoulders were tense. His steps uneven.
And those golden eyes… hadn't his rut already ended? Or was it… was it my pheromones disturbing him?
I pressed my flushed cheeks with both hands. My body wouldn't stop betraying me. My pheromones flowed freely, and I didn't know how to suppress them.
"Your pheromones…" Val started, his gaze sliding lazily to me. But he stopped mid-sentence, his jaw tightening.
The air thickened.
My heart raced. Should I use a suppressant? But alphas don't use suppressants. Should I try an inhibitor? A pheromone patch? I was lost.
"Seriously!"
His voice cracked through the silence.
Before I could lift my eyes, his body slammed into mine, pressing me against the wall. Not painfully, but hard enough to send a deafening thud echoing through the room.
"Hazel…"
My name rolled off his tongue, low and hoarse, a growl that shook my very core.
Butterflies rioted in my stomach.
And then I knew—without doubt. I was in preheat. My body craved something I didn't dare admit.
I lifted my gaze. His side profile glowed faintly in the dim light, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
That scent—rich, intoxicating wine—wrapped around me, filling my lungs, making me dizzy.
And then… my own pheromones shifted. From their usual faint wine fragrance to something sweeter, delicate—peach.
"Peachy," Val murmured against my ear, his voice rough, dark, teasing.
My knees buckled. My entire body turned weak.
Who knew a body could be this sensitive?
Who knew I could feel this way?