Kian Vale had always prided himself on his ability to control the chaos within. Growing up as an Omega in a world designed for Alphas to dominate, he'd quickly learned that reliance on others was a vulnerability he couldn't afford. And so, at the tender age of eighteen, when his first heat rolled in with a vengeance, Kian made a vow: he would endure. Alone.
At 25, that vow was still intact, though the years had chipped away at his resolve. The suppressants helped, but they were far from perfect. There were moments, like now, when his body betrayed him. He adjusted his tie in the reflection of the elevator's polished steel walls, his fingers trembling ever so slightly.
The tingling at the base of his spine had been subtle at first, a mere whisper of what was to come. By mid-morning, it had grown into a persistent ache that no amount of deep breaths or focus could push away. And yet, here he was, standing in the elevator of Blackwell Enterprises, clutching his briefcase like a lifeline, pretending everything was fine.
The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Kian stepped into the 28th floor—Marketing and Public Relations. His sanctuary. The open office buzzed with the hum of keyboards and the low murmur of voices. It was familiar, comforting even. Here, he wasn't just an Omega. He was Kian Vale, the department's rising star.
"Morning, Kian!" chirped Lila from her desk near the coffee machine. She was perched on her chair, her blonde curls bouncing as she sipped her latte.
"Morning," Kian replied, offering a tight-lipped smile. His voice came out steady—thank God—but the warmth in his tone was absent. He couldn't afford to linger. Not today.
Sliding into his cubicle, Kian let out a shaky breath. His small workspace was a haven of order: neatly stacked files, a perfectly aligned keyboard, and a small potted cactus he'd named Spike. He loosened his tie just enough to breathe, then opened his laptop.
Focus. Work would keep the heat at bay.
As he skimmed through emails, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard, a low voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Kian. My office. Now."
The voice was a sharp, commanding drawl that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Kian didn't need to look up to know who it belonged to: Adrian Blackwell, the Alpha who ruled the company with an iron fist and an icy demeanor.
Kian swallowed hard. This wasn't unusual. Adrian often called him in for last-minute strategy meetings or to critique a presentation. But today, with the haze of his impending heat creeping in, the proximity to an Alpha—especially this Alpha—felt like a dangerous gamble.
Still, he couldn't refuse. Straightening his spine, Kian grabbed his notebook and headed toward the corner office.
The door was already ajar, a sign that Adrian was expecting him. Kian stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.
Adrian sat behind a sleek mahogany desk, his dark suit impeccably tailored, exuding authority with every detail. His sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes, and the faintest hint of stubble gave him an edge that most found intimidating. Kian was no exception.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Kian asked, keeping his tone neutral.
Adrian gestured toward the chair opposite him without looking up from the papers in his hand. "Sit."
Kian obeyed, his movements precise. He crossed his legs to mask the restless energy buzzing through him.
"I've been reviewing the projections for the Rowland campaign," Adrian began, his voice low and measured. "Your numbers are promising, but they lack punch. The client wants bold. This…" He tapped the paper in front of him. "…is safe."
Kian bristled but kept his expression calm. "I can revise the proposal to include more aggressive strategies," he said.
Adrian's eyes finally met his, and Kian felt the full weight of the Alpha's scrutiny. "Good. I need it by end of day tomorrow."
"Understood."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Adrian's gaze lingered, and Kian felt the air grow heavier. It was suffocating, like the man could see past the professional facade and into the raw vulnerability Kian tried so hard to hide.
"Is there something else?" Kian asked, breaking the silence.
Adrian's lips curled into the faintest smirk, a gesture so subtle it could have been imagined. "No. That will be all."
Kian rose quickly, eager to escape the tension. As he turned to leave, a sharp pang shot through his lower abdomen, stealing his breath. He froze, his hand gripping the doorframe for support.
"Kian." Adrian's voice was laced with a note of concern—or was it suspicion?
"I'm fine," Kian managed, his voice strained. "Just a headache."
He didn't wait for a response, slipping out of the office and back into the relative safety of his cubicle. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears.
You can't lose it here, he told himself. Not now. Not in front of them.
But the heat was relentless, clawing at the edges of his control. By noon, he was barely holding it together. Sweat beaded at his temple, and his vision blurred at the edges.
When he finally stumbled into the empty break room, he collapsed against the counter, his breaths ragged. The suppressants weren't working. He needed to get out of here.
"Kian."
The voice was soft yet commanding, and Kian's blood ran cold. He turned slowly to see Adrian standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"Sir, I—" Kian's words faltered as Adrian stepped closer, his Alpha presence enveloping the room.
"You're in heat." It wasn't a question. Adrian's gaze was piercing, his voice tinged with something primal.
Kian's throat tightened. "I can handle it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian's smirk returned, this time sharper, more dangerous. "Clearly."
Kian's fists clenched at his sides. "I don't need your help."
But Adrian was already closing the distance between them. The air between them crackled with tension, and Kian's instincts screamed at him to run—or to surrender.
"You're trembling," Adrian murmured, his voice almost gentle.
Kian's breath hitched as Adrian reached out, his hand brushing against Kian's cheek. It was the briefest of touches, yet it sent a jolt through his entire body.
"Let me go," Kian managed, though the words lacked conviction.
Adrian's eyes darkened, and his smirk faded. "You're not leaving until I'm sure you're stable."
And in that moment, Kian realized two things: he was in way over his head, and Adrian Blackwell wasn't the kind of man who took no for an answer.