My body obeys before I can stop myself. It's as if it no longer belongs to me. I fall to my knees, his pheromones thick in the air, dragging out each breath I take. All I can think about— Taste— Is him.
This isn't good. This isn't good at all.
My vision blurs, hazy and unfocused. My hands itch to reach out, to touch him, to confirm he's real, that this isn't some hallucination of mine. Then his voice cuts through the fog.
"Crawl to me."
I don't hesitate. On all fours still dressed and in my heels, I do as he says. My body feels unsteady, as if I'm floating just above the ground, not entirely on Earth. When I reach him, he cups my cheeks, his cold hands sending sharp jolts of electricity through me. A shudder escapes my lips now.
"Look at you," he whispers, though it doesn't feel like a whisper. It feels like a command. My nails dig into the carpet, grounding me as he continues, "All that pride, all that stubbornness— Gone."
His words hit me with a wave of shame, but it's gone the same second. Shame quickly twists into pleasure as my body swoons to his voice, begging him to take me, to do whatever he wants. But a small, desperate part of me clings to whatever dignity I have left.
"Y-Your pheromones…" I manage, my voice weak and breathless. "Too… too much."
For a moment, there's silence. Then, as if on command, the overwhelming intensity of his scent fades. I gasp, taking in deep, greedy breaths of air as my head clears slightly.
Damien Bloodhound sits back in his chair, his legs still spread wide, with me kneeling between them. His blood-red eyes stare at me, unblinking. They're slitted, like he's analyzing me, trying to read me.
I'm still affected, my body vibrating in his presence, but the haze has lifted slightly. My thoughts are clearer now, though I can still feel the weight of his gaze, burning through me. My clothes suddenly feel heavy, suffocating, and I find myself wanting to take them off— Especially with the way he's looking at me.
I rise from the floor, watching his eyebrows lift slightly in silent acknowledgment. My fingers reach for the buttons of my coat, unfastening them one by one. His eyes follow every movement until the coat falls to the floor, revealing the slip dress I'm wearing underneath.
I didn't bother with a bra or matching underwear. They were old, cheap, and embarrassing— Things I didn't want him to mock me for. Yet, the dress, the most expensive thing I owned, still feels inadequate. To him, it must look cheap as hell.
Still, his expression doesn't change. He doesn't speak. He just stares.
My mind begins to play with me as my insecurities pile on top of one another. This is the first time I've shown my body to anyone since Lucas was born. My skin isn't the same as it was before, and I know it's not good enough— Not for someone like Damien. I'm sure he's seen better.
I glance at him again, silently pleading for him to guide me, to tell me what to do but his eyes remain dead, expressionless. Not a single hint of what he's thinking crosses his face.
I bite my lower lip, feeling a pulse between my thighs as realization dawns. He wants me to make the first move.
Is this a punishment? For asking him to tone down his scent? Or is he trying to break me?
We could leave. Maia's voice is tiny, almost hesitant— Smaller than I've ever heard her. She isn't scared, not like before. She's confused, as I am. She can smell him too, and neither of us can decipher what he really wants. It's driving us to an edge.
But we both know we can't leave. We have no idea what's waiting beyond that door. People out there can be cruel. With him, at least, there's the illusion of choice.
I take a step forward, then another, until I'm standing over him. Slowly, I place a hand on his shoulder and swing one leg over his thigh, straddling him. His gaze lifts, unreadable as ever, but it's locked on me.
How does this work? What am I supposed to do? Kiss him? My heart is pounding so loud that I'm sure he can hear it.
Carefully, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, trying to steady myself as I lean forward, my lips brushing his lightly. A shiver runs through me.
"What do you think you're doing, Omega?"
His voice stops me cold. I freeze, my lips trembling as I stare into his eyes. There's irritation there now, sharp and clear.
"I-I'm sorry, I—" My words crumble into stutters as I begin to pull away, heat rising in my cheeks.
Before I can move further, his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I try to get away but he's a hundred times stronger than I am, keeping me in place effortlessly.
"Breathe," He commands, his tone softer than I've ever heard him use.
"I can't," I whisper, panic rising in my chest.
"You can," He replies, his voice slicing through the fog. "Breathe, Madeline."
I force myself to inhale, the air shaky but filling my lungs nonetheless. Slowly, I exhale, my racing thoughts beginning to slow.
"That's better," He murmurs, his lips brushing close to my ear. The heat of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. "Now don't make me repeat myself again."
I nod, unable to find my voice, my hands trembling as they rest on his shoulders.
For a moment, we stay like that— Me perched on his lap, his arm around my waist holding me securely, like I belong there. His other hand moves to brush a strand of hair from my face. The touch is so gentle it makes my chest ache.
"Now," he says, his voice low and steady, "Go sit on the bed."
My legs feel unsteady as I rise and obey, sitting on the edge of the bed without a word. I don't have the energy to.
Damien stands, his movements slow and deliberate, and walks to a desk in the corner of the room. When he returns, he places a file in my hands.
Crossing his legs as he settles back into his chair, he clears his throat. "Go through my file and tell me what your soft and hard limits are."
W-What?