He made his way to the lockers, every step clipped and precise. He only meant to swap out his books, nothing more. Routine. Neutral. Boring. A simple act to ground himself.
But then—he caught it.
A scent.
Sweet, cloying, heady.
Omega pheromones.
They were thick in the air, overwhelming, the sort that could curl around an Alpha's mind like chains, dragging them under. Cassian stiffened, pulse spiking despite himself. His hand clenched against the locker door.
Before he could react, something warm pressed against his back. Arms wrapped around his torso, desperate, clinging.
Cassian's blood turned to fire.
The omega behind him pressed closer, nuzzling, planting frantic kisses against his shoulder blades through his shirt. Their breath was hot, their scent dizzying. His shirt dampened with sweat and saliva. The pheromones pouring off them were intoxicating—raw heat, primal need.
Cassian's vision blurred at the edges. His instincts screamed, urging him to turn, to pin, to take. His throat rumbled, the dangerous edge of a growl reverberating low. His ocean eyes darkened to storm-tossed depths.
The omega whimpered against him, shuddering. "Please—"
Cassian snapped.
In a flash, his hand shot up, closing around the back of the omega's neck. The whimper cut off in a choked gasp. Cassian's grip was firm, unyielding, his claws of self-control digging in deeper than his actual fingers.
"Enough," he growled, voice rough, dangerous.
The omega sagged, overwhelmed by both his tone and the force of his hold. Within moments, their consciousness slipped, body going slack. Cassian caught them before they hit the floor.
His breath came ragged, but he forced himself steady. He would not let this destroy his composure.
Dragging the fainted omega by the arm, Cassian strode down the hall. Students scattered out of his way like frightened birds. By the time he kicked open the nurse's office door, the whole hallway was buzzing with rumors.
The nurse jumped up from her desk, eyes wide. "What in heavens—?!"
Cassian laid the unconscious omega carefully onto the cot. His jaw was tense, but his movements precise, controlled. "Found them in the hall. In heat. They… attempted contact."
The nurse blinked at him, then at the flushed, limp body on the bed. Shock gave way to something like awe. "And you resisted?"
Cassian's glare cut to her. "Of course I resisted."
She blinked again, then her lips pressed into a line that softened into relief. "You've no idea how rare that is. If another alpha—"
"I know." His voice was sharp enough to slice the air. "Handle it from here."
The nurse nodded quickly, bustling to work, but her eyes lingered on him with unspoken admiration. Resisting an omega in heat wasn't something most alphas could boast. Many would have snapped, consumed by instinct. But Cassian—his control was iron.
And yet, as he stepped out of the office, his hands were trembling. He clenched them into fists until the tremor vanished.
Cassian was in a foul mood.
Anyone with a nose could tell. His pheromones were leaking, sharp and cool like sea spray over jagged rocks, warning every student in the corridor to keep their distance. Whispers trailed behind him, but no one dared step into his path. His expression—those ocean eyes clouded and unreadable—made it clear he wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.
The pheromones clung to him like smoke. No matter how tightly he folded his composure around himself, the scent lingered, sharp and sweet on his skin. He loathed it.
Loathed that someone else's pheromones were smeared across him.
Loathed that anyone—especially Altair—might catch a whiff.
He could already imagine it: Altair's nose wrinkling, his eyes narrowing with disdain, the venom in his voice as he spat something cruel like, "So this is what you are, Cassian? Just another alpha ruled by instinct?"
Cassian's stomach twisted. The thought was intolerable.
He stormed into the gym, shoving past a pair of startled juniors. Without hesitation, he stripped down, threw his clothes into a heap, and turned the shower knobs until icy water gushed over him.
The cold bit into his skin, but he welcomed it. He scrubbed hard, again and again, until his skin burned red. Steam mingled with the dissipating threads of pheromone-scent, water carrying it all down the drain.
Still, he kept scrubbing.
The omega's touch, their scent, their desperation—it had crawled beneath his skin like oil. He had resisted, yes, but the memory lingered, unwelcome.
He thought of Altair again, unbidden. The fox's sharp tongue, his wit, his disdainful little scoffs. The way his nose twitched when he caught the faintest scent in the air.
No. Altair couldn't know. Wouldn't know. Cassian refused to let this cling to him like a stain.
When at last he stepped from the showers, droplets of water clinging to his hair, his expression was carved from stone. He dried, dressed in fresh clothes, and without hesitation shoved the soiled ones deep into the trash. He didn't even glance back.
By the time he entered the classroom, the late bell had long rung. Dozens of heads turned his way.
He ignored them all.
His stride was unhurried, but his mood was a storm contained in a glass. He set his bag down with more force than necessary, earning a nervous shuffle from the student beside him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar silhouette at the window—Altair, lounging as though the world bored him, chin propped in one hand. His foxlike eyes flickered over Cassian briefly, sharp as blades.
Cassian's jaw tightened. He looked away before Altair could smell anything lingering, before the fox could tear him apart with words sharper than any claws.
He didn't trust himself to survive that today.
So he sat, silent, simmering, his ocean eyes darker than usual.
And though Altair's gaze slid away—pretending not to notice—Cassian knew better.
The fox always noticed.