Pacing down the palace hallways, Ren struggled to breathe. The air was clear now, yet his lungs burned as if the lingering pheromones clung to him. Perhaps it was because—even if faint—the bond was still in effect, rejecting other alphas’ pheromones.
But then why... Why hadn’t that happened with the General’s?
"Ren!"
The familiar voice struck him before he even turned. And there he was—the very man he had thought about only a moment ago. But instead of relief, Ren saw Zayden’s hand instantly fly to his nose.
"Y-Your pheromones," the General muttered, his voice rough as he took a step back.
Fuck.. Is he... in heat because of that?
Zayden swallowed hard, pulse quickening. Ren rarely showed any reaction to his pheromones, making him think he was not an omega at times. His eyes flicked around the corridor, searching, scanning. Only when he was certain no one was nearby did his shoulders ease the slightest.
Ren’s brows drew together. Only then did it truly hit him—his pheromones were leaking. Since when? How much?
But did the General not realize that he had been releasing his alpha scent freely, boldly, like a nectar everyone else craved along with the High Priests?
Unwilling to start another argument, Ren turned away. His steps were unsteady, but he forced them forward, trying not to fall to the ground. Something was wrong—his body felt weaker than ever, as if the heat was burning him hollow from the inside. Were the suppressants no longer working?
Just then, a hand caught his wrist.
"Wait—!" Zayden’s breath hitched as the warmth brushed under his fingertips. His eyes widened. "You’re burning!"
Ren could have pulled away easily. But the coolness of Zayden’s touch soothed him in a way he hadn’t expected. For a fleeting second, he let himself sink into it. Then he snapped out of it with a sharp shake of his head.
No.
He couldn’t allow himself to be swayed—just because his body was craving the touches.
With his free hand, Ren reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the familiar glass. He drew the bottle out, unbothered if Zayden saw, and tipped it back. The bitter liquid burned down his throat, a stark contrast to the sweetness of the relief he knew would follow. Soon.
Zayden’s mouth parted, confusion flashing across his face.
"What did you just—?"
As if answering him, Ren turned his face away, his voice faint but steady.
"My suppressants. Do not worry. I will not cause you trouble. You can let go." He forced a laugh although a deep red was painted on his pale cheeks. Sweat ran down his forehead, his bangs turning damp.
But Zayden didn’t listen. His grip only tightened.
"Trouble? What do you mean by that?"
Ren’s lips curved into something close to bitterness. "You rushed after me because you thought I would lose control. That I would let some random alpha touch me, is that not it?"
Zayden’s eyes narrowed, pulse hammering as he forced himself not to snap.
What the hell is he saying?! Was that what his mate told him every time he went into heat?
Not once had such a thought crossed his mind. All he had been thinking was how dangerous this was—that someone might see, might report it straight to the Emperor. Laws were the same for everyone. If Ren were caught by anyone in his heat, wandering the palace halls, punishment would be severe. Brutal.
And Zayden would never let that happen.
"You truly don’t understand how the empire works," he said at last, his tone filled with frustration. Without waiting for protest, he dragged Ren down the corridor.
"My Lord?"
Zayden shoved open the first door he found and pulled him inside, slamming it shut behind them.
Ren blinked at him, disoriented. His throat tightened, dry, and the burning heat inside his body refused to ease. His thoughts spiraled.
Was he... Was the General about to—?
No.
He shook his head. Even if he was a murderer, even if the empire whispered of his ruthlessness, he wouldn’t force himself on someone.
Not him.
Not like this.
And yet, Ren’s throat still burned. He swallowed hard, but the dryness still lingered, leaving him more thirsty. More desperate to run away from this room. His breath quickened as if the walls were closing on him. He parted his mouth despite himself, his pheromones slipping beyond control.
Zayden turned, pulling Ren toward the bed. The servant resisted, his feet solid on the floor.
"What is it?" The General asked.
Ren looked at him, gaze filled with suspicion Zayden couldn’t understand. At least not until he noticed his clenched fists as if preparing for a fight. A soft chuckle escaped him before he realized. It was not a funny situation. However, even guarded, he was simply adorable.
"Take a seat, alright? I will go get the physician."
Once he heard that, Ren’s shoulders dropped, releasing his fists. All the tension and pressure had been lifted.
"Y-You were not planning to?—" He paused, unable to continue. However, that was enough for Zayden to understand. He pressed his palm on his forehead, shaking his head in disbelief.
"This is what you think of me?"
"I-I apologize," seated on the edge of the bed, Ren said.
"I am affected by your pheromones," Zayden said, lowering himself onto one knee, his cheeks flushed a deep red.
Ren had been staring at the floor for so long he hadn’t even noticed until now—the heat in the General’s face, the way he held himself carefully straight, as though on the edge of breaking, losing his mind.
"But I would never lay a hand on you." His lips curved faintly, almost reassuring.
That should be enough.
Enough to calm an omega on the verge of heat. Enough to keep Ren from misunderstanding, from thinking he was pretending to be decent when he actually was an alpha without control that would jump any omega on heat.
Zayden bit his lip. His chest tightened.
What the hell was he doing?
For years, he had endured his ruts in silence. Alone. Sometimes, he laughed at what Zion told him. That he would understand the pain of spending a rut alone. And he did.
He had swallowed inhibitors until his body trembled from the strain, forcing himself to endure as if his life depended on it. Once—only once—he had stepped into a pleasure house, desperate, after admitting to himself the feelings he carried for Ren.
But the instant another scent reached him, another hand brushed against his skin, his stomach had twisted violently. Disgust had slammed into him, punishing him for daring to seek comfort anywhere but where it belonged.
Only with Ren.
Every rut, every night of rut, had been the same reminder. That his body and soul would accept no one else.
Did Ren not feel the same? Fated mates were bound by souls. Surely, he felt it, right?
The words rose before he could stop them, pressing past the walls he’d built for years. His voice came low, rough, almost a growl.
"You are my fated mate."