The phone rang, sharp against the silence. Simon, still half-asleep, fumbled at the nightstand until the device slid into his hand. He pressed it to his ear.
"Are you still coming?" a voice asked.
His brows drew together. "Coming? Where?"
"You've forgotten already? I get it; rut aftermath can cause amnesia."
Rut? The world jarred in his drowsy mind.
Then another voice cut in. "Alex, hurry up. Your omegas keep asking for you-if you don't show, they'll say you've lost your touch."
Simon's eyes snapped open. Alex? Omegas?
He sat up, the silk sheets shifting with the gentle sway of a waterbed. Velvet drapes framed floor-to-ceiling glass, the city lights beyond glittering like scattered jewels. A marble nightstand gleamed beside him, pristine and unfamiliar.
"This...isn't my room," he muttered.
The last thing he remembered was his car colliding with an electricity post after a night of drinking.
He pushed the sheets aside and rose from the bed. Empty pill bottles-rut suppressants, and a few needles lay scattered across the floor, a silent reminder of someone's else's life.
Crossing the room, his eyes caught the mirror. The reflection that stared back wasn't the man he remembered. This body stood taller than his own had ever been, shoulders broader, presence sharper. The face was devastatingly handsome; piercing eyes, a clean jawline, and a small mole resting just beside his lips.
Before he could linger, the phone crackled again. "Alex, are you there?"
The way the voices spoke; casual, entitled, even demanding, made Simon think they had to be Alex's friends in this life.
Have I...transmigrated into Alpha Alex? The thought hit him hard.
Another voice pressed urgently, "Alex, don't ditch us, the drinks are on your bill!"
Still reeling, curiosity won over confusion. He asked slowly, testing the words, "Where...are you?"
Then the first voice followed with a chuckle. "You've even forgotten your family's club? We're at Crown's club-VIP lounge 580."
As he lowered the phone, Simon became aware of something else; heat still lingering faintly at the back of his neck. The rut pheromones hadn't cleared completely.
He exhaled slowly. Having once read about omegaverse settings, he understood what that meant; this body wasn't yet free from its rut.
His eyes fell on a small box resting on the nightstand. Inside were patches for blocking pheromones. Peeling one free, he pressed it against his skin, the cool touch dulling the edge of the scent.
Still curious about Alex's world, and the so-called friends waiting for him, Simon pulled open a drawer of clothing. Inside were rows of neatly folded, high-end pieces. He chose a black shirt, paired it with fitted black trousers, and slipped into a tailored black blazer. Even the leather belt and polished shoes were dark, giving him a sharp, commanding look. A silver watch glinted against the monochrome, the only contrast.
Straightening, he looked every bit the Alpha CEO; though inside, he still felt like Simon fumbling in a life not his own.
Simon stepped out of the room and made his way down the wide staircase. At the middle landing, he caught sight of two figures seated below; an elegant woman on a velvet couch and a stern man beside her. The moment his eyes fell on them, flashes stirred in his head, memories not his own yet vivid enough to claim him. Alex's parents. Now, somehow, his.
His mother rose quickly from a velvet couch, eyes soft with relief. "Son..."
By the time Simon reached the last step, she was already before him, her hand closing gently around his. "Your father and I have been so worried. For someone of your rank, an Alpha at the highest level...it's always dangerous; painful to endure."
Her words drew his thoughts back to the litter of suppressant bottles and used syringes scattered across the bedroom floor. He understood now; it hadn't just been excess, it had been survival. A rut so fierce it burned Alex's core away...leaving him with this body.
His father's voice cut through, cool and sharp. "I was not worried. If he had claimed an omega by now, his rut wouldn't have been that intense."
His mother frowned, her hand tightening protectively over Simon's. "It's not that he doesn't want to. Fate just hasn't allowed him to meet his fated one yet."
A snort escaped his father. "And how could fate allow it, when his time is wasted fooling around with filthy omegas?"
"Stop it, Cortez," his mother snapped, her voice low but firm. "Our son has barely drawn a breath outside of his rut, and you've already started nagging him."
His mother's eyes softened as she looked at Simon. Standing close, she lifted a hand to his face, her palm warm against his cheek. "Son, don't overthink your father's words. He cares for you, even if he doesn't want to admit it."
A small smile tugged at Simon's lips. He covered her hand with his own and brought it gently to his lips. "I know," he said softly.
She studied him for a moment longer, then noticed the way he was dressed. "You're heading out?" At his faint nod, she gave a quiet sigh. "Take care of yourself."
As Simon turned with his mother still at his side, his father's voice came, steady and commanding.
"Go and fool around you want, but don't forget this week you'll be running the company in my absence."
...
The black Bugatti rolled to a stop pavement. Phillip, Alex's driver and bodyguard-now Simon's- stepped out and opened the rear door.
Polished black loafers touched the ground first, then Simon followed, his presence radiating a quiet, unshakable authority.
He approached the heavily guarded entrance. The security detail, upon recognizing him, lowered their heads in respect before pushing the doors open.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike turned, instinctively parting to clear his path. Bows followed him with every step, and more than a few lingering stares trailed after him in awe.
One omega clasped her hands to her chest, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "He's so handsome ...even the way he walks feels untouchable. Whoever ends up as his fated omega will be the luckiest in the world."
An Alpha swallowed hard, voice trembling. "That's the only S-ranked Alpha alive. I can never risk crossing paths with him."
A nearby Beta scoffed softly, though unease still edged his tone. "You're too scared. At least you're a B-class Alpha. What about us? We'd be finished before we even breathed."
Simon went upstairs, his steps quiet until he reached VIP Lounge 580. He opened the door.
The low hum of music mingled with lazy laughter inside. Two Alphas were sprawled across the couches, each with two omegas draped over them, hands wandering, perfume thick in the air.
One Alpha raised a glass with a smirk. "You're late, Alex."
The other chuckled, tightening his arm around one omega while another leaned against his shoulder. "Marcus, I told you; he isn't going to ditch us."
"Victor," Marcus scoffed, one omega feeding him grapes while the other traced his jawline, "now I believe you."
The four omegas giggled, their eyes darting curiously toward Simon as though sizing him up.
Simon stayed silent, but in his mind the pieces clicked. Marcus. Victor. Their scents told him both were A-class Alphas. And the omegas clinging to them...only B-class, dressed to tempt.
Simon lowered himself onto the leather couch, his presence shifting the air. Immediately, one omega from Marcus's side and another from Victor's glided over, their hands brushing against his arm and thigh as they poured him a glass of wine. One of them lifted the glass to his lips, smiling as if to tempt him into indulgence.
Before Simon could respond, a man in black leaned down to Marcus's ear, whispering something. Marcus gave a small nod, and the man slipped out.
Marcus cleared his throat, his eyes flicking toward Simon. "Alex, I prepared a little rut present for you. Something to ease your return...after such a brutal rut."
The doors at the side of the lounge opened.
An ash-blonde figure stepped in, tall and slender, dressed in a clinging black outfit that shimmered under the dim lights. The fabric hugged every line of his body, loose only at the chest where pale skin showed through. His face was half-hidden behind a sleek mask, leaving only the sharp line of his jaw and the tempting curve of his lips visible.
When he moved, the light caught on a small silver pin glinting at his navel-an intimate, daring touch that drew every eye in the room.
The music shifted, slower, heavier. He began to dance, hips rolling with effortless rhythm, hands sliding over his own frame as though caressing invisible flames. Every twist of his body was graceful yet charged, revealing flashes of smooth skin, the glint of the pin accentuating each movement.
The omegas beside Simon sighed in envy, their touches growing restless, but Simon's gaze didn't waver. He hadn't expected to be captivated, yet something about this figure's beauty was undeniable. Every sway, every look over the mask, dragged his focus tighter.
Even he had to admit-this wasn't ordinary seduction. It was art.
The dancer's movements slowed, then stilled. With a graceful bow of his head, he gestured subtly toward the side door, signaling he needed a moment. Without a word, he slipped away into the washroom.
The lounge settled back into its rhythm; music humming, laughter low but Simon's couldn't relax. A strange pull gnawed at him, faint at first, then sharper, tugging him toward the same door the dancer had vanished through.
His hand tightened on the glass of wine, unease stirring in his chest. It wasn't logic-it was instinct, something primal whispering inside him.
Finally, unable to ignore it, Simon rose from the couch. Each step carried a weight he couldn't explain as he moved slowly toward the washroom door.
Simon pushed the washroom door open.
The dancer stood at the sink, head lowered breath uneven.
Something inside Simon snapped. His instincts roared, the suppressant patch burning uselessly. He tore it off, breath harsh as the pull grew unbearable.
In two strides he closed the gap, pressing the dancer hard against the sink.
"Leave me alone," the dancer gasped, voice strained, trembling under Simon's weight.
Simon's jaw tightened, his breath hot against the other's ear. "First you seduced me...now you've dragged me in."
The air thickened, pheromones clashing, heat spiking as Simon's control slipped further.