Archive of Our Own

The first time somebody propositions Sylus to offer her as payment is when he is in the middle of finalising an arms deal. Once the idea is said out loud the dingy warehouse on the outskirts of the city fills with the laughter of sleazy men, elbowing each other and practically salivating at the thought of Tartarus's cute little kid, not yet presented but giving off an increasingly sweet scent that held the promise of an omega.

She was a feisty one, most often seen tailing the big boss closer than his own shadow, her eyes huge and eerily red as she suspiciously stared everyone down from behind his broad figure. If you as much as glanced at her guardian the wrong way you could count on walking away with fresh wounds from the blades she always carried.

There were many tales surrounding Tartarus and his little tail, exchanged in hushed voices and with nervous glances shot over shoulders, about men disappearing after catching a glimpse of her or being given to her as sacrifices. Some claimed her and her father's piercing red eyes were a sign of their vicious nature, the most dangerous kind of preadators. A single bite from them was all it took to turn even the most docile pup feral. Some of those tales were so far-fetched that made Sylus chuckle when word got to him. He did nothing to clear out the misunderstandings though. A good amount of fear was healthy in his line of work.

"We could cut off a few of those zeros. That is, if you let us babysit your kid for a few days."

Hungry eyes flash, the closed off space reeking with the pheromones of a bunch of preadators fantasizing about supple young flesh. Their spokesman leers and rubs his hands.

"The big boss is so busy all the time, why don't you let us take her out of your hands hm? We'll take reeeal good care of her."

Sylus considers the men in front of him, their unkempt looks, their dirty clothes, and grimaces disdainfully. "It's cute you think that that specific prize is proportionate to what you're offering me." His steely gaze cuts their laughter short, the other men shuffling awkwardly when his hand rests casually on the gun holster beneath his jacket. "Now, you will take the payment that actually suits someone of your caliber and if you're smart enough you will not appear before me for the next few months."

That sparks murmurs of dismay but only one thug has the gull to voice his protests, the one who made the lewd proposition in the first place. "Few months? Are you nuts?! You scared off all the other potential buyers, no one wants to do business with us because they know we supply you!" He takes a few angry steps towards Sylus who only cocks an eyebrow. "If we can't talk business face to face for months how are we supposed to survive?!"

Sylus regards the man in front of him as he would something he found stuck under the sole of his shoe.

"Not my problem."

A couple of his underlings pick up the hard-shell cases carrying the paid for weapons and follow Sylus out of the warehouse among a barrage of curses. Unfazed, he gives them instructions to get the weapons to one of his many bases and then mounts his motorcycle.

"What about you, boss?"

Sylus puts on his helmet and revs the engine loudly, carelessly. "I got other business that needs to be taken care of." With a deafening roar he's gone, leaving the dilapidated warehouse behind. But those words keep pestering his mind.

Your kid… We'll take real good care of her.

He speeds up, annoyed at himself for letting those worthless worms get under his skin, furious that others have started eyeing what's his and finally coming to terms with what he's known for a while now: the pup he's been raising has started to give off the scent of a ripening omega, showing her potential not only as a weapon but as an object of desire too.

And Sylus can't stop thinking about the implications of that.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

When he found her she was dirty and malnourished, hiding away in the storage room of an abandoned gas station. He had felt eyes watching him from the shadows, could hear the terrified beating of her little heart. To her credit, she had not ran away when he closed in on her hiding spot. She jumped at him with a screech instead, yielding a piece of broken glass like a dagger. It had done more damage to her own hand than anything else, shattering immediately when she tried to stab his leg. She only reached up to his hip but he noted that she had aimed for his thigh, mildly impressed that the runt knew to go for a major artery.

She had hissed and tried to scratch him when he picked her up from the back of her ratty jacket, her small canines glinting in the moonlight. Sylus held her suspended in the air until she tired herself out, trying to kick him one last time before she slumped defeated in his hold. Keeping his eyes on her, he felt around in his pockets till his hand closed around what he was looking for. The dirty little rat perked up when she heard the sound of plastic wrapper, eyes glinting with hunger when she saw the chocolate bar in Sylus's hand.

"You will get this only if you behave, deal?"

They kept glaring at each other for a few long moments before she stuck her tongue out at him. Seeing as she did not try anything funny again though, Sylus placed her back on the ground. He saw her tense up, her eyes darting around in assessment of escape routes.

Good, he thought. It seemed she had a good sense of survival.

"What's your name?"

She scowled at him, small fists balled. Sylus hummed and dangled the chocolate in front of her.

"This is my favourite you know, it's taking a lot in me to not just eat it." He grinned purposely wide for her to see his long, sharp teeth.

Her eyes widened at that (they were big and red, noted Sylus, a characteristic only the strongest preadators exhibited, her eyelashes long) and she squawked in indignation.

"What about the deal?!"

Sylus's lips curled in satisfaction. "What about it, I don't see you behaving brat." He rattled the chocolate again and turned around.

She followed as he knew she would, three small steps to each one of his.

"Give it to me! I did not hit you!"

Sylus scoffed. "I admire the fact you believed you would."

His motorcycle was parked under an awning. There were a few preadators scattered dead on the ground after a failed attempt to ambush him. The kid did not even flinch at the sight of the maimed bodies and tugged at Sylus's jacket instead.

"Give it to me..."

Her lower lip trembled, eyes moist. Sylus could smell the sour scent of hunger emanating from her, see the way her weak limbs shook. Despite those weaknesses, she had fought him hard and had the wits to stay alive till now. He wondered how long she'd been alone and how she had managed to survive in this notorious neighbourhood. Preadators ran rampant in these parts. Getting on his bike, he scooped her up and placed her on the seat in front of him before she started bawling and attracted more unwanted attention.

"Only clean brats get sweets."

Her furious cries at being called a brat twice in the span of a handful of minutes were swallowed by the roar of the bike. Soon, they had forever left behind the squalor of the unnamed neighbourhood.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Looking after a kid—a wild one at that—was not how Sylus had imagined his life to turn out. Tartarus was a nobody back then, an ambitious stray like any other, just beginning to make a name for himself. A few well-executed deals (and a fair share of luck and planning) had put a target on his back, the dog who arrogantly believed himself to be better than the veteran gangs. Living on the run was challenging in and of itself. Adding a kid on top of that was proving to be more than what Sylus had thought he could handle.

His recent relocation to a new neighbourhood had not gone unnoticed by the gang in charge of the area. There had been several incidents the past few days, preadators staking out his house, shadowing him, shopkeepers even refusing to let him in their businesses out of fear of retaliation from the gang or loss of protection privileges. Sylus had to keep his eyes open 24/7 for threats as he scouted the area for news about the government military tech lab that was rumoured to be built underground somewhere near.

As if there was not enough on his plate, the runt had gotten sick, running a fever and complaining about a pain in her ear. He had stayed up all night by her bedside, changing cold compresses on her forehead and rocking her till she fell asleep, his t-shirt soaked from her tears and liquid running from her ear. First thing in the morning he had picked her up, bundled in her blanket, and took her to the nearest clinic. She had sniffled and refused to eat the steamed buns that had become her favourite when Sylus stopped by the bakery on the way to the clinic, stubbornly turning away and hiding her face on his chest when he held up a bun to her.

"You're still such a brat…" Sylus murmured, masking his worry with a tired laugh. He patted the back of her head and walked faster to the clinic, not trusting himself to drive his bike (and not willing to let go of her in order to do that).

He paced outside the run-down clinic's examination room, the secretary giving him the stink-eye. She had warned him twice already to sit down because he was disturbing the other people waiting for their appointments. Sylus snarled at her after the second time and she decided that her computer screen was far more interesting than whatever an agitated preadator had going on.

His hair was oily and disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. Every few seconds he glanced through the glass panel on the door to check what the doctor was doing. The kid was sitting on the examination bed, glaring at the contraption the doctor was using to examine her ears. Sylus had warned her to behave before he let the doctor take her away, patting her head in what he hoped had been a reassuring gesture. So far no one had been bitten, a great sign that she decided to listen to him for once.

The door of the examination room finally opened after Sylus had paced kilometers up and down the hallway, the grizzled doctor leading the rascal out by the hand. She was holding a piece of candy, her left ear bandaged and eyes red from crying.

"Typical case of otitis," explained the doctor and added "she will be fine," when Sylus crouched in front of his little menace, tilting her head gently to the side to examine the bandage. "I've prescribed a round of antibiotics and some painkillers in case the fever comes back. Make sure she takes them twice per day after a hearty meal."

Sylus stood and picked the kid up (she'd quietened down, happily sucking on the candy she got as a reward for being a big girl), taking the page filled with illegible scribbles from the doctor's hands. The doctor eyed him, not without kindness but with a certain suspicion life in a neighbourhood overseen by a preadator gang cultivates.

"You don't look much over twenty yourself, is this your kid?" There was a resemblance, she supposed. They both shared the same striking eye colour. But the girl's hair was darker and her features rounder. "Teen pregnancy?" she guessed, somewhat empathetically. They got a lot of those in these parts.

Sylus made a face and squeezed the runt's cheek (she had the audacity to snicker at the suggestion of him being her biological father, unbelievable).

"Twenty-two," he corrects curtly, "and I am the one looking after her now."

He raised an eyebrow, challenging the doctor to question him further, but the woman sighed and returned to her office after telling him to pay at the reception. Life was already hard, she did not need to poke her head in whatever a preadator was doing looking after a pup of his kind, especially not when he was a paying preadator.

Outside the clinic, Sylus placed her down despite her protests.

"It's your ear that's hurting, not your legs."

He ruffled her hair and handed her one of the buns he kept for her. She accepted it this time, mumbling a thank-you and taking his hand as they made their way to the pharmacy. This was the second time he'd had to take her to the doctor after almost a year since he found her. The first was a precautionary check up the day after he brought her to his house. Her age had been determined somewhere around seven or eight, intelligence sharp and teeth sharper, attempting to tear a chunk out of the doctor's arm because he had pinched her side to emphasize how skinny she was.

They've come a long way since then. Sylus had made it clear that if she became dead weight he'd kick her out so she had better prove herself useful. On those early days she often threw fits, becoming destructive. Since she liked stabbing things so much, Sylus had began training her on how to use his growing collection of blades. That had done wonders for her anger issues, and he had acquired an accomplice able to defend herself and tiny enough to crawl in spaces he couldn't reach. They had started getting recognised as a set, the rising red-eyed preadator and his youngling. Where one was, the other was bound to follow closely behind. Sylus's charity has its limits though. He may had taken her off the street but it was up to her to survive if she had what it takes to stay by his side.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

That second proposition is made when she's barely eleven, an off-hand comment by a rowdy thug who frequented the spots Tartarus did business in hopes he'd get noticed and offered a job.

"Pretty little thing eh? She's a mouthy one though, could use a good beating of the special kind, if you know what I mean. I'd do it for free even!"

The position that is generously offered to him is that of fertiliser for the plants in the park the kid liked to drag Sylus to when there were no deals to close or rivals to outsmart.

Tartarus had become an established name by then, one that ignited fear and respect in others. His own circle of loyal followers had been built by preadators deserting rival gangs to join the red-eyed alpha's pack. The runt was flourishing under his supervision as well, showing promise in planning and prowess in battle.

Sylus felt pride, sure. She was growing well, stronger every day, able to subdue men twice her size, a sensible head on her shoulders. Her stubborn streak never really left. She had learned to use it strategically though, sensing when his patience was stretched thin and when she was allowed to push his limits further. He'd never admit it, but he was far more lax with her than he should, occasionally allowing her to mouth off just to see how far she would take it, amused by her daring nature. A weakness meant there was space for improvement and Sylus was very interested in seeing how much she could improve. Besides, she was thoroughly amusing, something equally—if not more—important that the potential for growth. If there was one type of people Sylus despised it was people who bored him.

But there was something more sinister lurking under that pride.

Possessiveness.

Desire.

Sylus would look at her and see that the kid he was raising was leaving her childhood behind: round features starting to sharpen, interests shifting, scent ripening, turning infinitesimally sweeter day by day. Catching wind of the speculations surrounding her secondary gender had been a blow he hadn't been expecting. There were bets about her, whether she'd present as an alpha like her guardian or an omega or neither. The favours were on omega, further bets on when exactly her heat would hit, how much sweeter she'd smell and taste then…

How dared those filthy animals think about her like that? About what belonged to him and him alone?

Tartarus had disposed of the ringmasters of those bets in the most gruesome way, making an example out of them. The kid had inquired about the sudden disappearance of familiar faces, so trusting that she'd accepted his bullshit excuse unquestionably. But the damage had been done.

He couldn't stop thinking about it, about his pup, his daughter presenting as an omega in the future. A future that had seemed so far away but that now loomed over him like a guillotine. The implications of that were disastrous: omegas were rare and highly coveted, an entire trafficking network built for the sole purpose of locating and… re-distributing them. But a red-eyed omega? Sylus's pup? He might as well paint a target on his back and televise his location to everyone.

That night she had come to him, sensing his agitation. Others would have cowered, tails between their legs, and made themselves sparse. But not his girl. She had kneeled by his legs first, cautiously rubbing her face on his knees in a clumsy attempt to calm him down with her scent. Her eyes were impossibly big on her face as she looked up at him, tugging at his pants to make him look at her.

If only she knew her foster father's inner turmoil, maybe then she would have stayed away like a sensible pup.

Sylus felt his canines tearing the inside of his mouth with how hard he was clenching his jaw. Here, inside the closed off space of his study, her scent was stronger. Not yet matured to its full potential (that would take a few more years) but different from what he remembered it to be a mere year ago. He had placed one big hand on her head, more so to keep her away from him than to provide comfort, but the kid had taken it to mean the latter. She had started purring softly when Sylus's scent lost its acrid edge, characteristic when he was mad, and deepened into something smokier.

She thought it was content. He knew it to be arousal.

She had fallen asleep on his feet and when he carried her to bed—much later, after he had had his share of watching her small sleeping form raptly, counting her eyelashes and every groove of her lip, enamoured by the subtle flicker of her eyelids as she dreamed—Sylus had to try hard to retire to his own bedroom after tucking her in.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

It was more than a year later when the third proposition was made. She was almost thirteen—no longer a pup, not yet a grown-up. She had grown taller as if overnight, like a sprout in the first days of spring. Whenever she accompanied Tartarus to a meeting there would be a momentary pause, the room holding its breath as people tried to get their bearings, her scent making them slightly dizzy. What drove Sylus mad though was not the fact that men were finding it difficult to control themselves around his possession (they were the lowest of dogs who could do nothing more than drool from afar at an exquisite steak they could never obtain) but the fact that she had become aware of the effect she was having. Strangely enough though, whenever conversation strayed to the topic of presenting, she would categorically express her desire to be an alpha. Like Sylus.

Initially, he was not going to allow her to accompany him to the meeting with the councilman Sylus was backing for the upcoming elections. That discussion had gone as well as one might expect with a preteen preadator that was used to getting her way if she purred a little at him.

"You'll stay here."

Sylus's voice had a finality to it that seemed to go unnoticed by his increasingly upset kid.

"I'm not a kid anymore! You let me go to all the other meetings, what's so special about this one?!"

What indeed… Sylus could not place his finger on it (or more like he refused to) but the prospect of her in a pretty dress, sitting across the politician in the private lounge he had booked for the occasion, talking to him, being seen by him… It made his blood boil and him prone to smashing things. He turned away from her lest he did something he'd regret later, like show her exactly how men like that politician treated little girls like her.

Noticing the vein pulsing on his temple, she bit her lip and grinned slyly to herself. A change of tactic it was then.

"You will not even notice me being there, I will be sooo quiet!" she purred, hugging Sylus's arm and rubbing her face to his bicep the way she had observed made him give in the fastest. "You know that gang has been bothering us lately, are you really going to leave me here all alone?"

Sylus glares at her from the corner of his eye. "Quite the negotiator you've become…"

She keeps quiet and just stares at him with those big ruby eyes. Sylus sighs. She does have a point. There have been complications lately. A deal falling through had put them in danger of retaliation. Moreover, tensions were high due to the upcoming elections, the city holding its breath until the final ballots were counted. The safest place she could be was by his side.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and she cheers, knowing she's won.

"On one condition though."

That makes her freeze. Tartarus never set conditions that did not work in his favour.

"What…" she says cautiously, not trusting his smug face at all. Sylus takes a step closer, crowding her against the antique piano in his study.

"There is a certain… dress code for this event. And you will wear an accessory I've prepared exactly for an occasion such as this."

He smirks down at her, the red of his eyes dark like blood. She does not have a choice but to obey.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Councilman Wang hides his surprise well when Tartarus strides in his private lounge followed by his little shadow. But not his pleasure. The pleasantries he exchanges with the dangerous but influential preadator are done absentmindedly, his gaze shifting back to the girl over and over again. The dress she wore was obviously making her uncomfortable. From what he knew of her, she was a wild thing, more accustomed to street fights than fancy salons. He smirks—he wouldn't mind helping her lose the dress that bothered her. She defiantly meets his eyes, shuffling closer to her guardian. It's endearing, like a chihuahua getting territorial, all bark but no bite.

No matter how small the dog though it still needed proper training.

"Is it a bring-your-kid-to-work day today, mr. Qin? I was under the impression that this was supposed to be a serious meeting."

Sylus crosses his legs and waits for the waiter to finish pouring his drink before he speaks. From the corner of his eye, he sees the girl tense up, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

"I am a firm believer of teaching through firsthand experiences, councilman." He twirls the crystal tumbler, admiring the deep amber liquor inside before taking a sip. It burns, but not as bad as the other man's lecherous eyes on her. "I never pass up an opportunity for her to see what is best for her,"—another sip—"and what should be discarded."

The smile the councilman gives him is forced, jaw clenched. "Then I hope you and I can make today a good learning opportunity for the former, Tartarus." He snaps his fingers and an assistant rushes forward with a dossier, offering it to Sylus with shaky hands. "As previously discussed, those are the blueprints for the new protocore weapon that Ever is developing on behalf of the Hunters' Association. Procuring this information was extremely hard. Consider it a token of appreciation for your gracious support in the latest round of campaigns."

One of Wang's opponents had withdrawn the night before a scheduled live debate. Speculations about the nature of that sudden decision were many, the statement from his party pleading a family emergency raising even more doubts. There truly had been a family emergency (or emergencies), Sylus made sure of that.

Sylus casually flips through the pages—there are diagrams, detailed payments, key dates, names of the researchers in charge of the project, quite a goldmine of info, he has to give that to Wang—before handing the file to her. She startles, the haughty look on her face shifting into one of surprise. Quickly, she schools her features back into an arrogant little smirk, imitating Sylus's signature look. Or at least she think she is. The politician guy huffs an amused laugh and lifts his crystal glass to the preadators. He is still smiling as he drinks.

What's funny…—she grumbles, annoyed that this sleazy guy is looking down on them.

"Sylus, what—"

"Tell me what you see."

Even though his voice has the same tone as always (one part mocking, three parts sounding as if he's holding a secret), she is kind of hurt that Sylus drops all kinds of endearing names he always uses for her. In the presence of people as important as a councilman and not the lowly canon fodder that crawl all over the N109 zone she supposes he needs to leave behind anything that would make him seem vulnerable.

For a couple of long, silent minutes, the sound of paper pages flipping is the only one in the lounge. Even though she's had her fair share of near-death experiences, this is considerably more stressful than anything that can be dealt with simple violence. A drop of sweat runs down her exposed back and she's glad the councilman cannot sense her agitation, normal human as he is. When she finally snaps the file close she levels Wang with a glare.

"Many pages are printed twice. This looks like you're offering way more information that what is actually the case."

Wang barks an indignant laugh, his knee bouncing. "Is that all? My assistant must have made a mistake, he will be appropriately reprimanded later."

Sylus's smile is polite—albeit containing a touch of sarcasm as always—but she can read the disdain in his tight lips, in the way his red eyes flash brighter for a split second.

"Now let's talk about the payment," continues Wang eagerly. His eyes land on her again, shining with hunger like a stray dog's in front of a prime steak. "I am willing to renegotiate the amount we had previously agreed upon, Tartarus. I see new possibilities and one must be bold enough to grasp an opportunity when it comes his way."

Quite a lot of words to say you're a sick pervert…

Sylus raises an eyebrow, deciding to entertain the guy's delusions for a little while longer. Beside him, the girl's increasing discomfort wafts off her in waves. Good, Sylus thinks, let her see the kind of men that I'm keeping away from her.

"Interesting. And what do you suggest instead, Councilman? What could I possibly have to offer you that you don't posses already other than more money?"

The man licks his lips, misinterpreting Sylus's tone as playful instead of threatening. Playing host, he stands up to refill his guest's glass, walking with the confidence of a man used to everything going his way. He circles the sofa where the two preadators sit to stand behind them, Sylus on his left, the girl on his right. Both preadators tense at that. Letting someone in their blind spot went against every survival instinct. Wang grins. It's not necessary to lean so close between them in order to pour Sylus's drink. The girl's plain as day discomfort is addictive though, and he can't help but want a closer look. She keeps her face turned away, fists balled at her sides, pressing hard into the cushion in an attempt to redirect her anger. Adorable. How deep would her young fangs bite? Would she learn to mind them before he would have to ply them off, wonders the politician, ignorant of the burning gaze of the other man.

"My proposal is this," he drawls, reaching out to trail a finger from the girl's exposed nape down her bare back, the formal dress she's wearing hugging her budding figure in all the right ways, "I drop the price to 700.000 and you leave behind your protege tonight. I am sure I can offer her plenty of hands on learning experiences." Wang's hand goes back to her nape where he pokes the choker necklace she's wearing.

The girl recoils and yelps a horrified what?!, flushing in embarrassment. Her chest tightens when Sylus doesn't react other than narrowing his eyes at Wang. "What does he mean, Sylus— You can't leave me here!"

Her grip is bruising when she latches onto his arm to get him to look at her. He's taught her well.

In a flash, a large hand lands on her nape and yanks her head back, baring her throat. Her breath catches, heart pounding wildly. Sylus can feel her pulse fluttering wildly under her skin, so frail, enticing him to sink his teeth in and stake his claim. And there, dangling right above the hollow of her neck for everyone to see, a bejeweled charm. The rubies it's consisted of glow like drops of fresh blood, forming the letter S.

His one condition to let her accompany him. His need to mark her as his.

Sylus snarls at Councilman Wang who jumps back, his lips curling to reveal his sharp teeth, longer than most preadators. They are teeth that know what ripping someone's throat out feels like. The bottle of top-shelf liquor Wang was holding slips and shatters on the floor, splashing his pristine slacks. "Make no mistake, I am backing you out of sheer convenience. But if your hands stray further than what I've allowed you I'll cut them off."

Wang's bodyguards shout and move to pull their guns out but a wave from the politician has them pause. "Tartarus, you dare—!" The man is furious. He knows when the odds are not in his favour though. With the final round of elections only a few weeks away he cannot afford to lose the support of the indisputable boss of the N109 zone. The girl's necklace stands out against her skin, her wide-eyed look making her look exactly like the terrified thirteen year-old she is. But even when terrified she does not struggle in Tartarus's punishing hold. Wang sneers. He did not have an innocent puppy in need of training in front of him, but every inch a bitch.

He straightens his jacket and pushes his hair back. "I don't have time for this. Make sure you collect the full payment that was agreed," he spits as his assistant. "And you," Wang eyes the preadators with disdain, "I'll be in contact with you regarding the next steps. We're done here."

The man stomps out of the lounge with one last glance at the girl. Tartarus's hand is still on her neck, possessive and mocking.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

The ride home is spent in a tense silence broken only by the erratic tapping of Sylus's fingers on the steering wheel. He had foregone his motorcycle in favour of a new car he had acquired at an auction. Which on hindsight turned out to be a terrible idea—the interior of the car reeks with another man's stench, sticking onto her like a parasite. From the corner of his eye, he watches her shiver, the lowered windows funneling inside the razor-sharp cold wind that blows in the N109 zone regardless of seasons. Her head is lowered and she tries to discreetly wrap her arms around her torso to warm herself up.

Sylus's eye twitches.

"Put in on."

Dark tendrils of his evol manifest and pluck up his jacket from the backseat, then throw it at her as gently as an agitated preadator can manage. She catches it gracefully with her face but obediently wears it without any of her usual smart remarks. The heavy cloth swallows her up, quite a few sizes bigger than her. It retains hints of Sylus's warmth and it smells like him. She throws a quick glance at him—he's looking straight ahead, jaw clenched, still refusing to acknowledge her since they left the lounge. If she were a younger pup, still wet behind the ears, she would have whined to get his attention, tug at his sleeve and rub her face on his palm like a neglected pet. She is not though, so she contents with settling deeper in the plush seat of Sylus's sports car and sniffing his jacket.

They still have quite some time on the road till they reach the base. Combined with the night's stressful events, the car's low rumble and the safe cocoon of her guardian's jacket lull her to sleep.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

In her dream, she's on a boat.

She alone is onboard the vessel, tiny against the vastness of the black waters surrounding her as far as the eye can see. The sea churns and vast waves threaten to overtake her and her boat. Yet, as much as the wood creeks and groans, the boat never goes under the water. Then, a particularly monstrous wave towers above them, an impenetrable wall of cold, merciless black, and she trips and falls, screaming. The wooden boards are rough under her bare knees and the palms of her hands, splinters piercing her, rusty nails catching on her ratty dress. Rugged it may be, but it's her boat and it keeps her safe. The wave descends. The raging sea tosses them in the air. They are falling back towards the water, her stomach somersaulting from fear, gripping her boat's sides for dear life, bracing for impact and—

She opens her eyes.

A tuft of silver white hair is the first thing she registers, brushing across her face. She blinks, feeling like she's still in her dream; she's rocking as if she were on that lone, old boat. As the haziness of sleep dissipates though, her surroundings become clear: she knows those walls. She's in the base, passing through the entrance, down the hall, towards her room, all the while being carried by Sylus.

He is carrying her in one arm, the other on her back to hold her steady, his jacket wrapped around her like a blanket. She cannot see much of his face other than his jaw and neck but she imagines his brows are furrowed in their default state of mild disdain. For a few seconds she just watches him. This isn't an angle she usually sees him from; the column of his neck is a whisper away, warm and smelling so distinctly of Sylus that she takes a deep breath before she can stop herself.

Immediately, she freezes.

Back when he had just taken her in, he had schooled her on how to play dead in case of emergency, how to make it so believable that even the most discerning eye would not be able to tell her apart from an actual corpse. She uses that knowledge now to force her body to relax, mumbling some nonsensical nothings as if deeply in REM sleep.

Of course, it's no use.

"You altered your breathing way too fast." He glances at her briefly, a shapely brow raised, and she's loath to admit how giddy this simple acknowledgement makes her feel. "Had this been a real emergency you'd be dead." His voice rumbles in his chest, deeper than usual so late at night. It makes her want to press closer to him, let it lull her back to sleep.

Her scoff makes his hair flutter—it's got longer the past couple of years and from time to time he'd make an off hand remark about needing to cut it (she had noticed the way he relaxed when she brushed her fingers through it though, the tension leaving his body, slumping on her lap like an overgrown cat demanding petting). She blows air on it again out of spite, yelping when he snaps his jaw playfully at her.

When they reach her room he places her softly on her bed. There is no need to turn the light on—they are preadators after all, the top of the food chain, experts in hunting their prey in the dark. Just this once though, she wishes darkness could be her safe haven, shroud her until she was brave enough to face him again.

They regard each other in silence. His gaze is inscrutable, arms folded across his chest. It makes her nervous. Underneath his jacket, she can feel the weight of the jewel like a brand against her skin, preferable to the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them.

S for Sylus.

Presenting it to her just before they left for the disastrous meeting with Wang, probably hoping it would dissuade her from accompanying him. She recalls his hands tilting her chin up to clasp the collar around her throat, so gently, so unlike him. He had stood too close, his cologne heady, her gums aching with the need to—

To what, exactly?

Lately, more and more often she found her thoughts running ahead of her, conjuring improbable images she had to fight hard to lock away in the back of her mind before they could develop into something too big to ignore. Sylus's voice, his praise, his wit, his hands, his scent…

Gods, his scent.

Day by day, it was getting stronger for some inexplicable reason, invading her senses, sticking to the back of her throat till she couldn't taste anything else. They had had arguments about that, Sylus demanding to know why she refused to spend time with him like before, rushing instead to her room after exchanging a handful of words with him. He didn't buy the nonsense of "teenage phase". Their arguments would always end up with her shouting and him agitated, his scent projecting from him stronger, muskier, in an attempt to subdue her.

Could it be that her alpha genes were awakening? Causing her to be acutely aware of the older alpha, feeling threatened by his presence or needing to prove herself worthy of being in his circle? It was all too confusing.

She flushes and grips the jacket tightly around her, a shield against his piercing crimson gaze. If she met his eyes now, would he know that she had enjoyed bearing the mark of his ownership? Would he guess that she flushed due to want rather than anger?

The thought is mortifying.

Sylus is the one who relents first. He sighs tiredly and runs a hand down his face.

"It's late, we can talk tomorrow. Wash up and go to bed."

…that's it?

He's about to turn around and leave her alone when he hears it, the unmistakable click of her tongue. Sylus's narrowed eyes are fixed on her in a millisecond, his subsided anger flaring up again.

"Anything you'd like to say?" he demands with a low growl, a vein on his temple pulsating when she refuses to look up. Fucking teenagers.

"Hey!"

The black jacket is ripped away, Sylus's hand seizing her face and forcing her to look at him.

"Don't give me attitude, not tonight."

"Let. Me. Go!"

She thrashes and claws at his arm, unable as she is to bite him. Sylus squeezes her face and shakes her, a film of red creeping up his vision. With his jacket off, the scent of that scum Wang hits his nostrils again, faint but unmistakably there. It coils around her like his fingers did, touching her all over like he owned her, spoiling her own sweet scent.

Managing to yank her face free, the girl bites hard on the soft flesh between Sylus's thumb and the rest of his fingers. Angry tears sting her eyes. She's had enough of being manhandled for the night.

"Motherfu—!"

She's flat on her back before she knows it, pinned on her bed, Sylus's forearm pressing down on her throat. Their snarling faces are a hair away from each other's. His hand is bleeding, the stench of blood heavy between them. She actually bit him! It's been years since her temper has had him as its unfortunate target.

"Go ahead! Hit me if it's going to make you feel better! You brute!" Her voice is strained from the pressure against her windpipe but she yells regardless. She tosses and tries to buck her body to throw him off her, hot tears spilling from her eyes. She had been so excited to finally attend a more serious business meeting with him. How had things gone south so fast? It was all that guy's fault. If only he hadn't lain his slimy hands on her…

"Stop, just stop! For fuck's— Listen to me!"

Calming down a teenage preadator on the verge of a full-blown panic attack was not a skill Sylus had in his extensive arsenal. He did not know how to be gentle while getting screamed at. Usually, when people reached that point with him it meant negotiations were meaningless and violence the only solution.

He tries, tries really hard to be nice, talk her down. She's past the point of reason though, mad at herself, that politician, and utterly convinced he's mad at her too (not completely without reason, Sylus will admit to himself later). Several nasty bites mar his arms next to deep scratches. She lashes out again and this time he catches both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. With his free hand, still bleeding, he rips his button-up shirt open.

Scent is a peculiar sense—it has the power to evoke the strongest of emotions, affect your disposition with just a whiff, unearth the deepest, most hidden of memories. Sylus remember close to nothing from his childhood. One memory he guards fiercely in his mind though, is that of a hug smelling of flowers. He remembers soft arms around him—a woman's arms—and a gentle voice humming a song. The soothing smell of flowers is all over him, promising safety.

She still struggles when he lies on top of her and hugs her tightly, blind to everything but her own inner chaos. But then he starts humming.

It's low and she's unsure if she heard correctly at first. It's there though—Sylus is humming to her. She stops fighting, too stunned to do anything else than listen. It sounds like a lullaby, the melody simple and sweet. And in tandem with his singing, he rubs his neck against her, covering her with his own scent. Tucked as she is under Sylus's chin, pressed down by his body weight, the only thing she can smell and think about is him and his song. She can feel his heart beating steadily, his skin so perfectly warm against hers. There's a slight purr as he hums too and she is reminded of her first months under his wing: he used to purr and rub his scent on her like this back then too, when she couldn't sleep, when he had to take her with him on a mission…

He never sang to her though. Sure, she's heard him hum to himself before. Sylus loved music—he hummed while cleaning his guns, sang off-key in the car, in the shower, occasionally while beating up people. Every now and then, she would tease him, ask him why he was a gangster instead of following his true calling as a singer. His answer was always the same: his singing was a privilege for her ears only.

Gradually, she calms down. The meeting, Wang's disgusting hands, the tension… they all fade away. What's left is only the two of them, safe in each other's arms.

After thoroughly scenting her neck and hair, Sylus brings her wrists to his neck too and rubs the soft insides of them on his scent glans. He is still humming, his voice cracking on the higher notes. It's very endearing. So much so that she can almost forgive herself when a drop of blood from the wound on his hand lands on her chest. Almost.

"It's okay, shh it's alright now," he reassures her softly when she sobs. Her lower lip trembles uncontrollably so she just nods at him, unable to find the words she wants or even utter them. Hugging her again, he resumes humming softly and pulls the bed cover over both of them, one hand going to the back of her head to pull her to him, patting her hair in a way he hopes is soothing. She curls up to his chest, imitating how she used to sleep next to him all those years ago, when she was a helpless pup. Even though she's bigger now, Sylus's arms can still wrap all the way around her.

She falls asleep like that, lulled by Sylus's presence and his song. Sylus wonders… will she remember this in the future? His smell and his song—will she remember them and hold them dear in her memory the way he does with the faint memories of the person who must have been his mother?

Her breathing has slowed down and her fists are not clenched anymore. Sylus carefully opens his arms to let her lie down more comfortably, watching her for signs of distress. They instantly show up.

She flinches in her sleep, mumbling no, don't… and clings to him.

Then, Sylus freezes, his eyes flashing red in the darkness. Because she mumbles something else too. Something that has him burning up with a multitude of opposing emotions: awe, love, protectiveness, raw unfettered desire.

"Dad, don't go…"

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Had she been a normal girl, with a normal family, she would have been spending the last days of summer enjoying her freedom before school started again in September, probably shopping for school supplies or going to the beach with her girlfriends or catching late screenings at the open air cinema.

How boring.

A rapid fire of bullets lands on the spot she had just be standing, accompanied by the furious shouts of the men wielding them. They still had not got used to her speed, despite chasing after her for the past better part of the hour. Behind the wall where she took cover, she smirks and pulls the safety from a stun grenade.

Her life as an elite class preadator and member of Onychinus is anything but normal. A normal day for her consists of either running for her life or hunting others for theirs. As for family—

"Sweetie, try not to destroy the protocores please. We talked about this."

Her family consists of Sylus ordering her around from the safety of the base while she's out here running the errands he deems too unimportant to handle personally. With a scoff, she throws the grenade at the thugs that are after her and the precious cargo she stole from their boss.

"Yeah yeah, your shiny toys are just fine." There is a deafening explosion, screams, and then nothing. For good measure, she waits for the dust to settle and then counts bodies. All accounted for. Another job well done. The metal case containing the protocores Sylus was after is safely strapped on her back and she can't wait to get rid of it. "You better not have eaten my leftovers from yesterday or I'm actually going to lose it. I'll be there in about an hour."

She cuts the intercom connection before her boss slash guardian slash pain in the ass slash cause of all her problems can retort. It's been a long couple of days and she can't handle his evasive sarcasm right now.

She's been generally unable to handle anything that has to do with Sylus for quite some time.

This is not the time for this. She shakes her head and mounts her motorbike, scowling while yanking her helmet on and revving the engine. Return home, hand over his loot, take a shower, eat, then pass out for twelve hours at least—that's her plan for the rest of the day. No thought of her infuriating parent figure she may or may not have a crush on is going to ruin it.

Something else will though.

It had been bothering her since she woke up, a strange discomfort deep in her belly, a building pressure. Disregarding it as pre-period pains, she went on with her mission. Adrenaline had pushed all other sensation out of her mind. Now though, on her way home with no one hot on her trails, the discomfort comes back. And it comes back tenfold.

The bike swerves dangerously when a cramp twists in her belly out of nowhere, a hot flash flaring up in seconds and drenching her entire body in cold sweat. She grunts and curses, hitting the brakes so hard the tyres leave black marks on the asphalt.

What the hell is going on??

It's suffocating under the helmet, the oxygen suddenly not enough. With an urgency she's never felt before, she yanks it off. It rolls away on the road but she is too occupied trying to breath to notice. Unsteady, she slumps on her bike, breathing so fast she fears she's hyperventilating. It's wrong, everything feels wrong. Her blood is pounding in her head, vicious cramps tearing through her. The light is blinding, the scenery around her so sharp she has to shut her eyes. Between her legs and lower abdomen, there is only pain—pain like she's never felt before, hot and heavy, threatening to devour her. Moreover, she can't smell anything.

The Onychinus base they are currently using is deep in the mountains, the winding road to get there passing through a dense pine forest. The air should be teeming with scents of all kinds yet nothing registers to her.

For preadators, losing one's sense of scent is similar to losing their sense of self.

Panicking, she fumbles for her phone. He picks up at the first ring.

"Everything al—"

"Sylus… help," she pants seconds before all her other senses desert her too and she passes out on the rough asphalt.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Hot… so hot…

Regaining consciousness comes in gradual, excruciatingly painful increments: a searing migraine first, waking her up. She whimpers, but when she tries to move her head to alleviate the pain she finds her body unwilling to cooperate. Her eyes dart around helplessly, ready to burst out of her skull due to a nasty pulsating ache deep in her eye sockets. She is sweating profusely, the heat so immense she would claw her skin off if she were able to lift her arms. And what registers last is that: the centre of the inferno, low in her abdomen and between her legs, her innards waging war on her, twisted in a thousand burning knots.

She sobs, her tears scorching on her already burning skin, and trembles uncontrollably as she pushes herself to sit up. Her muscles spasm with the effort it takes but she manages it, her clothes soaked in sweat by the time she's done.

Panic claws at the back of her throat, threatens to manifest as a scream—the room she is in is unfamiliar, somewhat decrepit, bare but for the bed, a row of labelled cupboards, and a table. She attempts to read the labels, see if they give her any clues as to where she is. Her eyes still hurt though and her vision is blurry. She blinks and tries to shake the haziness away, only for the migraine's splintering force to make her cry out. Doubling over, she dry heaves, nauseous from the pain.

An overwhelming need chokes her. For what, she cannot say. Only that she needs and that it's eating her from the inside.

"…please"

The whimpering plead hangs in the silence of the room. It's only her and her pain—all-consuming, hungry.

It can't be, nonononono

The extreme fever, the pain low in her belly, the overwhelming desire… These tell-tale signs can only mean one thing. One terrible, irreversible thing.

She's presenting as an omega and experiencing her first heat.

What her body craves is an al—

The door opens with a deafening bang, ricocheting off the wall. Sylus barges in followed by a calmer stranger dressed in maroon scrubs. She raises her head to stare at them blankly—the stranger is not that much of a stranger after all. She recalls seeing him before once or twice. In the cut-throat N109 zone he is known as the vet who will patch anyone up for the right price, human, turtle, or preadator.

"You look like shit, kid."

Sylus halts near the foot of the bed, arms crossed and fixing her with a hard stare. He is wearing something weird on his face, a metallic contraption like a mask, or a muzzle. She'd laugh if only her body was not actively trying to turn her insides into outsides. A pathetic head shake is all she manages before another cramp causes her to seize up. The blanket is ripped where she's gripping it for dear life. When it passes seconds—aeons—later, a steady, cool hand guides her to lie down again.

"You will only get worse," deadpans the doctor, not unkindly.

"Fucking hell, Zayne! Did you listen to anything I just told you?!"

Sylus's fist connects with the nearest wall, teeth bared. Unfazed, Zayne merely raises an eyebrow and keeps checking the girl's vitals. Without realising, she has closed her eyes, panting and pressing up against his touch, desperate for someone's touch.

"I will add that to your bill," he states to the furious preadator, referring to the crater on his wall. The thermometer in his hand reads 39.7°C. Zayne shows it to his client. "See for yourself. Her temperature keeps rising exactly like I told you it would. Frankly, it's a wonder she is still lucid. Treatment must be administered as soon as possible."

Sylus curses loudly again, pacing around the room.

"Fuck you and your treatment!" He grips the front of Zayne's shirt, snarling at his face. "What you're proposing is letting a random bastard fuck her like a common whore! Like hell I'll do that!"

Intimidation is second nature to Sylus by now, but it's useless against the doctor. A low growl rumbles in Zayne's throat, his eyes flashing red. Many people have made the mistake of believing him to be harmless, given his occupation. They were swiftly taught not to take his calm facade for granted. After all, the elite preadator Galen was on the government's most wanted list.

"If you're hell-bent on endangering her life because of your own ego then you shouldn't have brought her here, begging for my help."

He shakes Sylus's hands off and returns to the girl's side. She had been reaching out to him, trying to take a hold of his hand and place it back on her burning forehead. His scent was also calling out to her—it was soothing and clear, like snowy woods or the feeling of freshness you get when you chew mint gum, calming the raging inferno in her guts just a little bit.

She mumbles something incomprehensible, then sighs when Zayne's hand covers her forehead. Her skin is sickly pale, her scent getting stronger by the second. One of the reasons Zayne was able to effectively treat any kind of preadator—alpha, omega, elite or common—was because he was defective. Well, that's what others usually called preadators with no sense of smell. Zayne was glad about this flaw of his though. It allowed him to focus on his work without distractions, hence why he was able to be near a newly presented omega during their heat and still be sane.

The same could not be said about his client.

"Get. Off. Her."

Sylus is breathing hard, the pup's scent permeating every pore of his body. He absorbs it like a sponge that's been left out of water for years. Pup was not accurate anymore though, was it… She had presented, the little girl he raised, begging for an alpha. She shifts on the bed, whimpering, and the movement sends another wave of her smell towards him.

"Fuck!"

It's sweet. Overly so. Nearly sticky in nature, like cherry wine, enticing him to get drunk on her. Sylus sways on his feet, his skin flushed.

"Fuck! Fucking hell," he roars again, leaning forward on the metallic railing at the foot of the bed to steady himself. The metal bends under his grip with a piercing screech. Saliva pools in his mouth, his sharp teeth aching to bite into soft flesh. To mark, to claim. The muzzle keeps his jaw from opening fully though, a preventive measure he had custom made under complete secrecy a couple of years ago, shortly after the meeting with councilman Wang.

As much as he did not want to admit it, it was getting harder and harder to maintain self-control when it came to her.

Zayne regards him expressionlessly.

"It doesn't have to be a random bastard, you know."

The bed frame snaps in Sylus's hands.

"Just give me the pills," he growls lowly, eyes on her. She's agitated, the loud noise momentarily pulling her out of her daze.

"Sylus…?"

The way she calls his name—like he's all she needs—makes his heart swell.

"I'm here kiddo. We're going home soon, alright?"

He doesn't dare to approach her more, not until he calms down, so he just pats her legs, covered under the blanket. Even that is enough for her. She nods and nuzzles the pillow, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed in discomfort.

It's dark by the time they leave the clinic. The suppressant pills needed some time to take effect. Sylus carries her, swaddled in a clean blanket. In her drugged sleep, she feels heavier that usual. Or maybe it's the admittance she's no longer the young pup he took in that makes her more substantial.

Zayne reluctantly holds out a paper bag to him. It contains two boxes of heat suppressants.

"Starting pills from the first heat can have serious side-effects," he warns again. Working with Tartarus was always a test to his patience. It was one thing when he ignored Zayne's advices whenever he barged in the clinic with wounds that had to be patched. Now though he was risking his child's health.

"I know what I'm doing," comes the curt answer.

Zayne sighs. "I'll add the bed you destroyed to your bill as well."

Sylus gives him the finger and walks away, feeling the doctor's judgmental eyes on his back.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

Heats vary in their duration. Typically, stronger preadators experienced longer cycles, both for heats and ruts. It was just Sylus's luck that his kid was apparently some kind of super omega whose heats lasted around ten days.

The muzzle did not come off for the first couple of days, until her scent grew familiar, borderline tolerable. At least he could be close to her without fearing he would jump her. And close he needed to be.

She required constant watch to make sure her fever stayed low and that she was drinking enough water. At one point Sylus had been called away for a meeting, and she had sneaked out of her room and into Sylus's own, where he had discovered her nestled on top of a pile of his clothes after almost an hour of frantically searching all over the base. Raw want had twisted in his belly, seeing her seeking comfort in his scent at her most vulnerable. Sylus had gritted his teeth and carried her back to her room though, letting her bring along a soft sweater of his. When he had returned later at night to check on her again, she was sleeping soundly, his sweater pressed against her nose. Sylus had bent closer to caress her flushed cheek only to swear under his breath and storm out of the room, achingly hard in his pants. The sleeve of the sweater had been crusted with her sleek.

Every day Sylus was waging war against himself, ignoring the starving beast inside him. She was under his care, trusted him. Betraying that trust would destroy him far more than denying himself the taste of her could. So he limited his touches to the absolute necessary, trying to ignore the way she pawed at him, breathless when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to keep her steady as he held a glass of water up for her, or the way she whimpered at the slightest touch, the way her skin burned, her scent driving him crazy. He would give her a pill and lock away the voice that urged him to quit pretending he didn't want to ravage her.

At night though, in the privacy of his room, Sylus let his mind wander.

It was the sixth day of her heat, with no signs of ending any time soon. The pills had suppressed the more extreme symptoms—she was no longer constantly feverish and could stay lucid for longer periods of time. Her scent was just as strong though, and she stayed locked inside the bathroom suspiciously long.

Sylus was not a patient person.

His frustration was starting to wear him thin—he was irritable and barked orders left and right, fidgeting with his guns in ways that made his subordinates sweat nervously. A meeting occupied most of his day, yet all Sylus could think about was how good she had looked sprawled on the carpet of his study.

"Sorry," she had mumbled when he walked in and stopped dead on his tracks, "I thought you were away."

She had kept her eyes downcast, peering at him shyly through her eyelashes. Clad in only underwear and one of his t-shirts, Sylus had a hard time believing her demure act.

"You'll catch a cold," was the only thing he told her before grabbing his tablet from his desk and striding out without a second glance her way.

Did she have any idea that she was playing with fire?

Sylus tosses and turns on his bed. Sleep eludes him, as well as reason. The image of her bare legs is plastered front and centre in his mind's eye. At last, he can't take it anymore. He kicks the blanket off and fists his cock roughly and fast, coming in record time. He manages to fall asleep, mildly disgusted at himself and the constant itch that jerking off barely scratched.

Sleep comes at last but it's restless. His dreams are governed by bodies in various precarious positions. Bodies that resemble hers, bent in ways he's never permitted himself to think about for too long. In his dream, he is touching her everywhere all at once, her skin silky soft and sliding on his own like it's where she belongs. And when dream-Sylus knots her and bites down on her soft flesh, where the shoulder meets the lovely column of her throat, real life-Sylus wakes up with a gasp, ejaculating hard in his boxers.

Equal parts guilt-ridden and pent up beyond belief, Sylus avoids her the next day. His most trusted subordinates are tasked with seeing to her needs instead, cowering under their boss's withering gaze.

"If one hair on her head is missing when I get back you're gonna be wishing never to have been born, am I clear."

Of course, it's not a question, and Sylus leaves before the twins can do anything to worsen his mood.

His punches hit extra hard that day. Threats and pests he had been meaning to deal with are all visited by Tartarus one after the other, his wrath coming down on them swiftly and with a newfound ferocity. By the time he's finished, an eerie silence hangs over the N109 zone, the entire city holding its breath lest it provokes its owner's rage.

It's equally silent in the base, alarm bells going off in Sylus's head the moment he opens the front door.

"Luke, Kieran!"

His call goes unanswered. He rushes to her bedroom, picking up the pace when he hears faint crying in the distance. Right outside her door are stationed the twins, their heads together as they discuss in hushed, anxious tones.

"Speak," he orders, picking each one up from their nape. The boys squeak in surprise and exchange terrified, wide-eyed looks. Beyond the door, she keeps sobbing.

"Boss! We—"

"We tried, I swear—"

Sylus shakes them, his nostrils flaring in anger.

"You have twenty seconds to tell me what happened before I rip you to shreds. Kieran."

Usually the more sensible of the two, Kieran slightly trembles as he explains the situation to his boss.

"She's been feeling down since morning! We tried to cheer her up, brought her food, blankets, and more clothes from your closet, but she refused everything! Luke even tried to calm her down with his scent but she bit him and threw him out. She's been crying for hours! Doesn't let us in! Boss we—"

He stops as Sylus sets them back down, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sylus turns to Luke, noticing the bandage wrapped around the young omega's right hand. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Alright you two, you did well. You can relax for the rest of the day."

He pats them both on the head and then knocks on his headache's door after the twins run off.

"Sweetie."

The sobs pause for a second, only to be followed by a furious go away! and something soft landing on the door, presumably a catapulted plushie. Sylus takes a deep breath and counts to five before trying again.

"I understand you're not feeling well but you're being very unreasonable right now. We can talk about it if you let me in."

He tries to keep his voice steady and kind but when another plushie hits the door his kindness evaporates. The door rattles dangerously in its hinges as he bangs his fist on it.

"I can either tear this door down or you can open it willingly. Either way I am coming in."

There's silence for a few heartbeats. Then footsteps from the other side of the door, followed by loud sniffles, and then the door is unlocked.

"…what do you want."

She's a mess, hair all tangled up, eyes red-rimmed with dark circles under them, her skin glistening with sweat. Having eaten nothing all day, she leans on the door to support herself. Sylus can feel a migraine forming.

Ignoring her, he kicks the door fully open and scoops her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

"Hey! Let me go, what the fuck!"

Sylus goes to the kitchen, his burden thrashing along the way. Her punches fall ineffectively on his back, cushioned as it is by his padded leather jacket. When she tries to bite him, he swats her ass and growls in warning.

The aluminum surface of the kitchen counter he sets her down on is cold and she hisses.

"What's your problem, huh? Gone all day and pushing me around the moment you're back… Let's all bow down to the big boss and be thankful he decided to grace us with his presence! Long live the king!"

Her voices strains at the end, tears rolling down well-trekked paths on her cheeks. He silently accepts her rant, pulling plastic containers of food from the fridge and filling up a plate for her. The moment he turns his back to grab chopsticks from a drawer, she tries to jump off the counter.

"Ack!"

Sylus's evol binds her instantly and puts her back.

"Aren't you too old to have separation anxiety, kitten?"

He offers her the food and chopsticks, scowling when she stubbornly keeps her arms folded across her chest.

"Stop that!" she yells when black-red tendrils of energy forcefully dislodge her arms and make her hold the plate.

Sylus places his hands on either side of her on the counter, trapping her. "The next step is to shove the food down your throat if you don't start eating now."

They glare at each other for a few tense moments, two pairs of identical glowing red eyes. In the end, her own body betrays her, her starved stomach growling loudly. Sylus's smirk is infuriating. He watches her shovel food in her mouth for a while, amused by her determination to keep glaring at him while she's eating. Her eyelashes are stuck together from crying, tiny beads of tears trapped on them. Carefully, he wipes them away with his sleeve. His fingers linger, trail lower to rub circles on her cheekbone. Her glare falters, blood flooding her face.

"Care to tell me what's wrong?"

The low timbre of his voice sends a spark of burning hot arousal down her spine. She shifts on the counter and presses her thighs together, his scrutinising gaze making her flush redder—she knows her scent is getting stronger. Now that she has fed her head is clear enough to notice his strong scent. He's so close, close enough to count the faint lines on the corners of his eyes or lean in for a kiss.

Her eyes land on his lips and Sylus frowns.

"Well?" he insists, taking the empty plate for her and setting it on the counter so that he does not have to see the look on her face (raw, wanting, matching how he feels).

"I'm old enough to have presented," she whispers. Sylus is still refusing to look at her.

"Indeed. Yet you behave like a toddler. I thought you left temper tantrums behind."

She chews on her lip. The words she wants to say—has been wanting to say for a while now—press insistently on her tongue till they finally spill out.

"…this is different, I need—" She clicks her tongue in annoyance and pulls him towards her by the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to face her. "I need you."

Sylus closes his eyes, a pained grimace on his face.

"You don't know what you're saying," he hisses. Yanking his jacket open, he pulls out a familiar box of pills. "You'll take this and we will continue this conversation later."

"I won't!"

She slaps the pills out of his hand, her chest heaving with sobs.

"I'm sorry I'm such a burden! Boohoo, the great Tartarus's right hand is an omega, how shameful that must be for you! What a great solution you found, doping me up with drugs and hoping it will go away! News flash: it won't!"

He goes rigid at her words. His silence aggravates her more though, and she starts crying inconsolably, like she was when he returned to the base.

"You give me your clothes and then fuck off for hours, leaving me here alone, as if I will magically stop being in heat! Do you have any idea how much it hurts?"

Sylus stands frozen. It hadn't crossed his mind that she held this kind of resentment in her heart, that his actions would have been misunderstood so greatly. Lessening her discomfort had been his priority, yet he had achieved the opposite.

(had Sylus been honest with himself he would admit that his motives had been less than pure, driven by his selfish desire to let her remain untouched since he couldn't have her. It was not yet time for the truth though.)

"Sweetie—" he starts but she cuts him off.

"Don't bother, don't act like you care if you're not going to do anything about it."

She wipes her tears away angrily, tired of crying, of waiting for him to stop holding back. Because she knows he is—she smells the way his scent grows thicker when she's around, has noticed the way his gaze darkens whenever he looks at her, thinking she's not paying attention.

"From now on I will take care of this on my own," she informs him. "I don't need your pills or your help."

She leaves him standing on the kitchen, something inside her tearing apart the further she walks away from him. He doesn't know that she waits for him in the hallway, regretting her outburst, hoping he will run after her, her heart breaking when he doesn't.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

When she wakes up the next morning, the base is silent. No off-beat humming while making coffee, no sounds coming from the gym or the armoury or the library. His motorcycle missing.

Sylus is nowhere to be found, the faint traces of his scent the only indication he was ever there.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑

By the end of the first week, her tears have dried.

By the end of the second week, food has lost all flavour.

By the end of the month, she's lost hope.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

The dreadful beginnings of a familiar warmth start spreading from her belly across her limbs when she's a couple of hours away from the N109 zone.

"Shit…"

She thought she had calculated correctly, but either the pills had messed up her cycle or it was naturally irregular given it was just her second heat. Still, she had been expecting it so she pulls over. Dr. Li supplied her with strong menthol patches to alleviate the fever, and she pulls one out now, sticking it to her nape. The relief is instant. Her temperature is still relatively low but it will be a problem if she's still on the road once the full force of the heat hits her. Cursing again, she pulls up the list of cities she had compiled on her phone, all possible places where Sylus could be hiding.

She crosses out the one she had just left behind. No one there had any news of her elusive guardian, no matter how hard she had hit them.

Dammit Sylus, where the hell are you…

Taking one deep, shaky breath, she pockets her phone and puts her helmet back on. Her bike flies across the asphalt with a roar. Maybe if she speeds fast enough she won't have to think about the empty base she'll be returning to.

Alright, she exaggerates—the base is not empty.

"Boss-lady, we secured you a way in the mayor's spring gala next month!" Luke informs her excitedly the moment she enters the base, saluting and everything.

She scoffs and punches his arm lightly, which then escalates in a few minutes of play-fighting. He is only a few years older than her and an omega too. He had laughed and waved away her apology for biting him, pulling her in a headlock and rubbing the top of her head and making her promise she would buy him fried chicken for at least two weeks as payback. His help had been invaluable ever since she presented. Slowly but surely, she was working on the internalised disappointment over being an omega.

They break apart, both breathless.

"Nice, hopefully I'll manage to corner one of his assistants and extract more info about that new no-hunt zone that appeared recently…"

Luke hums and sniffs the air around her.

"You're…"

She nods.

"Gonna go into seclusion in my room until it passes. Tell Kieran not to nag me about eating please."

The boy watches her walk away, feeling his boss's absence more strongly than ever.

Snacks, water, one pile of clean blankets, another one of Sylus's clothes—everything was set up. She had not been looking forward to going through this again. Dr. Li had reassured her that after a few years her heats would stabilise and occur less frequently. For now, she had to put up with a monthly nuisance.

After arranging her blankets and plushies to form a cosy cocoon where she can rest in, she grabs one of Sylus's sweaters and makes herself comfortable. The heat is more intense now, her belly twisting with mild cramps. She winces when she feels wetness in her underwear, but she's still too lucid and too embarrassed to take them off and lie naked despite being alone.

For the nth time, she wishes she had presented as an alpha instead. She wouldn't have burdened everyone around her then and Sylus would not have abandoned her.

At the thought of him her eyes moisten. She has promised herself not to cry over him again though, so she swallows her despair and buries her face in his shirt. It's starting to lose his scent. She falls asleep like that, clinging to the remnants of him.

Without the heat suppressants, her second heat arrives with a ferocity she couldn't have anticipated. If her first experience was bad this was ten times worse. She is awakened violently, her insides cramping so painfully that the little food she ate comes back up. Fortunately, she leans over the side of the bed just in time.

"Ugh," she groans, head pounding.

She is drenched in sweat yet cold at the same time, shaking uncontrollably. Sitting up on the bed, she grimaces in disgust at the wet feeling in her underwear, much worse than earlier. Her scent is strong even to her own nose, emanating from her uncontrollably. But all that combined pales in comparison to the vast emptiness she feels inside. Her core clenches around nothing, fresh slick dripping down her legs. It's all-consuming, the need for physical touch drowning out every other sense.

Bath…room…

A cold shower, that's what she needs. She grits her teeth and tries to keep her sanity when the only thing her brain screams at her she should be doing is getting thoroughly fucked.

She bumps from one wall to the other as she stumbles towards the bathroom, the floor swaying under her feet as if she's drunk. A few meters away from the bathroom door, her insides throb painfully, slick gushing to the floor, and she drops to her knees with a cry. Weird lights dance in her vision. Her body feels foreign, there and elsewhere at the same time. Passing out each time she's in heat is starting to get tiring but no matter how hard she tries to haul herself up, her limbs are not obeying.

The thought of Luke or Kieran discovering her sprawled on the floor like that is mortifying. It is getting harder and harder to focus on anything that isn't the terrible emptiness inside her though. The tiniest of shifts has her moaning, the soaked fabric of her panties rubbing over her sensitive clit. She makes one more attempt to stand up and when it fails she crawls to the bathroom. Opening the door has got to be one of the hardest things she's ever done. Her triumph is short-lived though—the fever overtakes her and she slumps forward, fainting on the bathroom's cold tiles.

Thirst wakes her up. Her tongue and throat are bone-dry and she coughs, eyes still closed as she fumbles around in the dark for one of the water bottles she stored on her bedside table.

"Here you go."

A bottle is placed inside her searching hand, the cap already unscrewed.

"Thanks…" she mumbles sleepily and brings the rim to her mouth. She drinks greedily.

"You're welcome, sweetie," replies an amused voice.

Hold on…

Are hallucinations a symptom of heat?

Slowly, she extends a trembling hand towards the direction of the voice.

Surely she imagined that, it can't be…

Her hand collides with a warm, sturdy chest.

He has the audacity to laugh when she yelps and chokes on a mouthful of water.

"Wha— Sylus?! You're ba—ack eugh!"

"Easy, easy." He thumps her back, his laughter quieting down to soft chuckles. "Hasty as eve—oof!"

She leaps up and tackles him, hugging him so tightly he can't breathe.

"You bastard!" she wails. "I hate you, don't you dare leave ever again!"

His chest rumbles with more laughter, the large hands she missed so much rubbing soothing circles on her back. He hugs her back just as fiercely.

"Your words are contradictory, kitten, I don't know what to believe."

She's too busy crying to snap at him. The front of his shirt is quickly soaked with tears, her grip around him not lessening at all. He hums and murmurs sweet nothings to her, rocking her back and forth and planting kisses everywhere he can reach—her head, her ears, her wet cheeks, her red nose.

With her still on his lap, Sylus scoots forward to turn on the bedside lamp. Warm light illuminates the room.

"Here you are," he whispers, voice full of wonder as he cradles her face in his hands and tilts her face up, laying his eyes on her for the first time in more than a month. She stares back, lower lip trembling. Tears roll down her cheeks and Sylus frowns. He's made her cry far too many times lately.

"Shh, no more crying. It's alright now."

He brings their foreheads together and purrs softly, releasing pheromones to calm her down. The effect is instant: she sighs and relaxes in his arms, purring back hesitantly at first and then louder when he doesn't pull back. Sylus's scent is like a warm blanket, surrounding her completely. She wants to drown in it. Before she understands what she is doing, she has licked his cheek.

She tenses and pulls back with a sharp intake of breath, expecting him to scold her. But Sylus just huffs and pats her head.

"Sleep some more, I'll stay here."

It's a wonderful proposition, that's for sure. Sleeping by his side sounds heavenly. The only issue though is that she's never felt more awake in her life. She squirms on his lap, suddenly extremely aware that her legs are wrapped around his waist, her butt directly over his crotch. She's also aware that her panties are not as wet as she recalls them being right before she passed out.

She flushes. Did he change her clothes? Saw her naked? Saw how badly her body needed him?

Sylus starts to stand up and she panics.

"No!"

Her arms tighten around his throat and with a burst of strength she wrestles him back down on the bed, pushing him flat on his back. Swiftly, she straddles him, tightening her knees on his sides.

Sylus sighs, one eyebrow arching elegantly. "Sweetie…"

"Why now?" she demands, hands pressing down on his chest to keep him immobilised.

"Why did you come back if not for this?"

She rolls her hips against his, gasping at the pressure on her aching chore.

"Fuck, wait—"

His hands grab her hips to steady her, red eyes glowing like embers in the semi darkness. Just that tiny bit of pressure had felt better than whatever she had tried with her inexperienced hands, so she does it again, mouth falling open when she feels him hardening underneath her.

Sylus groans, using his hold on her hips to press her down more firmly against him.

"I came back because I wanted to talk, but you're not going to let me do that, are you," he pants, bucking his hips hard.

She keens and slumps on his chest, moaning in his ear. It's the sweetest sound Sylus has ever heard. Wetness drips from her and drenches his crotch, filling the air with her sweet aroma.

"Bullshit, if you wanted to talk you'd—oh!—you'd have come during the day, not appear in the middle of the night like a thief."

He laughs at that. Even when she's one step away from delirium she still antagonises him. It makes his cock stiffen more in his jeans.

"Be honest with me, for once in your life." She lifts her head and locks eyes with him. "Tell me why you're really here."

The flush on her cheeks is lovely, red like a ripe apple. If he took a bite would it be as sweet, he wonders? His teeth ache and Sylus swallows hard before making his decision.

"I'm done, I'm tired."

One of his hands slips to the back of her head and tangles in her hair, pulling it back to reveal her soft neck. He nuzzles her hot skin, sucking open-mouthed kisses across the sweaty expanse at his disposal. She tastes divine, and his eyes nearly roll back.

"Done pretending you're not mine, that I don't want to claim you"—Sylus kisses her again, this time on her jaw—"devour you"—then her cheek—"fuck you till the only thing you know how to say is my name."

The last kiss is on her mouth, and he hungrily sucks on her lips till they're swollen. Her breath hitches and she comes just like that, to the sound of his voice finally admitting what she's known for years.

She's boneless on his chest and he allows her a few moments of respite before making his words become reality. Her ear is red and hot when he nuzzles it. Annoying bastard as he is, he blows air on it just to see her squirm. She whines weakly and wiggles on top of him, biting his shoulder half-heartily.

"'m hot…" she mumbles after a while, when her breath has returned to normal. True enough, her forehead is burning, her hairline dark with sweat.

Sylus kisses her brow and then rolls over, pining her on the mattress. The rhythmic movements of her chest are mesmerising, breathing hard as she is, hair fanned around her head like a halo. His palms are big enough to cup her breasts comfortably and they groan in tandem when he squeezes them, enjoying the way the plush flesh gives under his fingers. Impatiently, he rips her flimsy top off, needing to feel her skin to skin.

She arches beautifully under his touch, mouth falling open in a silent scream when he pinches her nipples, rosy and perfect, exactly like he had imagined them to be. His hands are not enough though—he needs to feel her in every way possible, with each one of his senses. When he takes one breast in his mouth and sucks, Sylus swears he hears angels singing.

"Please," she gasps, her hands pulling at his hair, his shirt, "'m so empty, it hurts so bad, please…"

Sylus rids them of the rest of their clothes in record time. He leans close to her face and licks the trail of salty tears off her cheek.

"I know, baby, I'll make it all better, promise."

He is faring better than her but just barely so. Her scent is making him feral, as if concocted just for him. Under the soft orange light of the bedside lamp, her sweaty body glows golden. He places his unsteady hands on her waist, then slides them down to her legs. There, he pauses to admire the swell of her thighs, the muscles strong under his touch. He bends down, leaving a trail of hot kisses from her hip to her knees, before he hooks his hands under the bend of her legs and pulls them apart.

"Oh, oh sweetie."

Her scent assaults him, steals his breath. Right there, between her legs, her pussy waits, glistening with her slick, red and plush and wonderful like the rest of her. Her hole flutters under his intense gaze and he watches fascinated as more clear liquid gushes out freely. All his life he's been lost in the desert, searching for this oasis.

"Ah!"

If grinding on him had been pleasurable then his mouth on her pussy is ecstatic. Sylus descends on her with ferocious hunger, tasting every inch of her, reaching parts with his tongue she didn't know existed inside her until now. It is absolutely filthy, wet and wild and raw, like she's been dreaming about even before she presented.

Sylus is extremely vocal as he eats her out, moaning up a storm, the vibrations travelling all the way somewhere deep inside her belly, a strange pressure steadily building up. It builds and swells until it finally pops when Sylus's lips close around her clit and two of his long fingers breach her soaked opening.

"Sylu—Sylus!"

Clear liquid drenches Sylus's face, his red eyes flashing impossibly bright as he watches her losing herself in the throes of pleasure. His fingers don't stop pumping inside her until she whines and tries to shut her legs. He pulls his fingers out with a satisfying squelch and brings them to his eye-level, examining the juices coating them amazed. Then, half-lidded eyes on hers, he brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean.

She is more far gone than he had thought—instead of covering her face in embarrassment she extends her arms to him, begging for his touch.

"I'm here, shh."

Sylus fits between her legs like the perfect puzzle piece. One hand goes to his painfully hard cock, gripping it at the base and rubbing the head on her soaked folds, getting it nice and wet for her. The other is next to her head, petting her hair and holding himself up so that he does not miss any of her expressions when he enters her for the first time.

Her mouth forms an O, eyes wide in awe as his cock slides inside her little by little. It would hurt, under normal circumstances. But the heat makes everything more slippery and flexible, her overwhelming need to be fucked overriding any painful signal her brain may send to her nether regions.

She claws at his back, her head floating on cloud nine, intoxicated by the delicious stretch of her pussy around his cock, the emptiness inside her finally satisfied. What Sylus promised earlier comes true—language eludes her, her vocabulary reduced to two words.

"Sylus—ah!—a-alpha!"

Her head is thrown back, her knees digging painfully at his sides. Sylus winces and folds her legs up to her chest, his cock reaching the deepest parts of her, kissing her cervix. She howls, her nails piercing the skin of his back, the sweat dripping down from his hair stinging on the fresh wounds. It takes everything Sylus has to not sink his teeth on her neck and bind her to him forever.

"My beautiful girl," he babbles, kissing her drooling mouth and the corners of her red eyes, identical to his own. "Mine," he growls, ramming his cock inside her warm, perfect pussy repeatedly, the wet sounds of their coupling driving him crazy. She nods at whatever he's saying, the sound of his deep desperate voice enough to make her come once more, slick spraying out of her and covering Sylus's abdomen.

She keens and clenches impossibly tight around him and Sylus yells, his muscles spasming with the force of his orgasm. He comes for a long time, filling up her willing pussy with load after load of hot come, the long weeks he stayed away from her having him pent up like he hadn't been even when she used to walk around with the collar he had made for her, the S charm glinting seductively on the hollow of her throat.

When his cock stops twitching inside her, finally going soft, he pulls out gently and slumps on the bed, his body sore in the best way possible. She is still whining softly, the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms making her twitch. Sylus locates his discarded shirt and uses it to carefully wipe away the majority of the mess dripping from between her legs. She sighs and lets her legs fall open, enjoying his soft touches.

"Stay… please," she breathes when Sylus attempts to stand up and fetch her some water.

He has no choice but to obey, her eyes and mouth and scent and skin traps he will willingly fall into again and again.

Sylus drapes the blanket over them and pulls his girl to his chest, purring softly at her.

"Alright, sweetie. I'll stay for as long as you want."

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏