章節 49: Scent of another Alpha

Damon walks across the clean, white tiles of the hospital floor, ignoring that distinct antiseptic smell that comes with every medical institution. The bright lights do their job of leading him to the room Lucy told him to be.

He ignores the curious gazes directed his way, wondering why an unmated Alpha is alone in a hallway full of expectant mothers. The alphas that are accompanying their omegas aggressively posture when he walks past, arms protectively circling their mates and their unborn pups. Even the betas recoil when he comes near, Damon's bitter scent overpowering their senses.

He ignores them all.

Mind running at a thousand miles per hour, he has formed multiple hypotheses in that short walk from the hospital's automatic doors to the front of a closed room. There's no label to indicate the room's purpose except for the small 'PRIVATE WAITING ROOM' written by the side.

He doesn't knock, doesn't announce his presence. Sliding the door to the left, he enters.

Whatever thoughts he may have had before coming is forgotten. The tightness in his chest disappears. His body becomes lighter. The air is easier to breathe, and that dull but constant pressure in his head vanishes.

There, sitting on the sofa is the owner of that familiar cotton candy pink hair.

The Omega is wearing loose sweats and a baggy, black shirt, but even then it's obvious that he has gained weight since Damon last saw him.

No, to say he gained weight is an understatement. Gone is that thin body. None of Kaiden's elbows protrude from his frame anymore. His cheeks are plump and his arms are bigger. There's also more fat on his hips and thighs, and if he is standing up, it's obvious how many inches he has grown. His skin is of a healthy color as well, slightly pink and glowing.

However, Damon doesn't notice any of that. He doesn't notice the slight trembling in both of their hands, Kaiden's on top of his lap and his to his side.

The moments their eyes lock, he hasn't been able to pull away from those carmine eyes. He only sees Kaiden's fear, his anxiety, but he also sees the fierce determination underneath.

His mind blanks.

Damon moves forward before he can think about anything. One foot in front of the other, he steadily closes the distance between them.

He stops.

He freezes—one arm's length away from Kaiden.

In the limited space, there's no hiding from his nose, his keen Alpha senses.

Kaiden's pheromones are as sweet as ever: the aroma of strawberries and pancakes on a lazy morning. On top of that, it is now mixed with a mild undertone that vaguely reminds Damon of milk. He smells more comforting than alluring, like a warm embrace.

Even so, there's also a different scent on him—one that is unmistakably from another Alpha.

Damon's inner alpha rips through his rationality with a snarl. They do not like this.

Not. At. All.

Not only is the Omega covered in that cocoa scent from head to toe, but the pheromones are those of protection /and/ possession.

Damon can't name a better way to ward others off than this. The Omega is so heavily coated in the scent of another Alpha—who is /not/ Damon—that his wild instincts are activated.

He loses control.

His fangs extend, ready to rip at the throat of whoever dared to lay claim on /his/ Omega. His scent spikes quickly—ten times more aggressive than from those alphas in the hallway protecting their pregnant mates. It fills the room, unforgiving bullets poised for a massacre, but it is still not enough to drown out that other Alpha's pheromones.

His predator's brain recognizes this for what it is: a challenge, one he won't back down from without a fight.

Kaiden whimpers.

The sound is nothing compared to the growling from the man in front of him. Damon's eyes are narrowed into dangerous slits, his teeth snapping at an absent opponent.

Kaiden's heart is hammering in his chest. There's no hiding the shaking of his hands any longer.

He knows that the Alpha is out of it—that there's no talking to him when his wolfish behavior is triggered by some unknown cause, yet he still calls out to him. "Damon," he says, barely forming the words as he whimpers.

Weak, his voice is weak, prompting Damon to growl louder.

Kaiden's mind is becoming hazy from the dense pheromones in the air, so he doesn't notice when Damon extends a hand to him.

The growling stops.

In that deep bass of a Command, Damon says, "/Come./"

There's a tug in Kaiden's subconscious, threatening to pull him down against his will. His knees twitch to obey, but he stops himself. Clenching his hand into a tight fist, he resists the order. His inner Omega fights back against the Command.

As Kaiden defies him, Damon's growling comes back louder, deeper. The sound reverberates in the small room, chilling and savage. It bounces off the wall like a million horses marching on a battlefield. Kaiden tries not to be intimidated, but the shirt clinging to his skin is damp.

The Alpha opens his mouth to speak again. Deeper, laying it on thicker, he Commands, "/Omega, co—/"

But before he can finish his words, Kaiden presses the emergency button of the device hidden in his palm.

(He promised Lucy he won't need it, yet look where he is.)

Three betas burst through the room from an inconspicuous door on the side, one of whom is Lucy. Her feet are quick as she moves. She stands in front of Kaiden, throwing herself between an Omega with shallow breathing and an Alpha that has gone feral. The other two positions themselves behind Damon, more focused on subduing the Alpha than protecting the Omega.

Seeing the intruders, Damon crouches low, tense arms to his side. He's no longer the veritable president, no longer the envy of many. Right now, he's a man controlled by his instincts, a slave to his inner alpha.

Everyone in the room can see that.

Damon turns to glare at the two betas behind him. His constricted pupils are unblinking, lips pulled to bare his fangs.

The successive gulps do nothing to bring down the tension. Regardless of how well they have been trained, a situation like this is as frightening as the first. No amount of drills and practice will ever prepare them for the animalistic sight, for the unrestrained hostility from a wild alpha.

The two betas pump out their own pheromones, no matter how weaker than the Alpha's it may be, in an attempt to convey their harmlessness. It's a passive call for a truce, a sign of peace, but they don't lower their guard. They can't.

They keep their hands up, holding the small, tranquilizer gun steady.

Damon doesn't wait, doesn't hesitate.

He attacks.