The metallic tang of blood spread between their lips as warm liquid trickled down Shen Yan’s cheek, the sensation like tiny insects crawling over his skin, sending faint tremors through his body.
Wen Xiuran’s pupils darkened slightly, his golden eyes fixed unwaveringly on the beta, motionless as a statue. Their breaths mingled, and Shen Yan could feel the peach-scented warmth of Wen Xiuran’s exhale against his face. A restless excitement surged through his veins. With a lazy, amused glint in his eyes, he glanced downward, his tongue lightly flicking over the wound on the other man’s lip before he panted and leaned back slightly.
As the kiss ended, a soft sound escaped when their lips parted. Shen Yan studied Wen Xiuran with keen interest, his tone languid as he asked, “Did you enjoy that?”
The two remained close, locked in a motionless stare. Shen Yan’s scattered thoughts suddenly recalled a phrase he had once read—a gaze is a kiss without desire.
Wen Xiuran, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of judgment. “Do you really think you’ve done nothing wrong?”
Shen Yan, stubborn to the core, replied with shameless confidence, “You were drunk. I was just being kind, bringing you here to rest.”
It seemed the drug had no effect on Wen Xiuran. Shen Yan’s briefly raised tail immediately tucked back between his legs. Struggling to maintain his composure, he scrambled for a way to talk his way out of this. Sleeping with him was no longer the priority—escaping was.
“Shen Yan,” Wen Xiuran finally said, “apologize to me.”
“?” Shen Yan glanced at the bleeding cut on Wen Xiuran’s lip and took another step back. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly just now. I bit you.”
Now that his true nature was exposed, Shen Yan shed all pretense of gentleness and vulnerability, adopting a flippant tone. “But you seemed to enjoy it too, so I doubt an apology is necessary, right?”
Wen Xiuran looked at him and smiled faintly.
The scent of peaches filled the air again.
In an instant, Shen Yan felt as though an electric current had shot through him. All surrounding noise faded away. He could only see the amusement in Wen Xiuran’s eyes, his ears filled with the pounding of his own heartbeat.
His breathing grew uneven, the threads of rationality in his mind snapping one by one.
This was the first time Shen Yan had ever seen Wen Xiuran smile. Just one look had reduced him to this state—was he really such a sucker for a pretty face?
The smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. Then, darkness engulfed Shen Yan’s vision as he was shoved onto the bed. Jolted back to reality, he grabbed Wen Xiuran’s arm, nails digging deep into flesh. A surge of fear made his voice louder than intended. “What the hell are you doing?!”
Wen Xiuran, bare-chested but still wearing his formal suit pants, pinned Shen Yan’s wrists with one hand while his gaze swept the room, searching for something.
“Let me go!” Shen Yan kicked out at him.
Without even turning his head, the alpha caught Shen Yan’s foot with one hand, his eyes settling on a nearby liquor bottle. Shen Yan paled as Wen Xiuran undid his own belt with his free hand and used it to bind Shen Yan’s wrists together.
Then, Wen Xiuran reached for the bottle on the bedside table, biting out the cork and spitting it aside before sniffing the contents.
“This is it.”
A chill ran down Shen Yan’s spine, but with his body completely restrained, he had no way to resist. Watching Wen Xiuran examine the bottle closely, Shen Yan, terrified of being exposed, resorted to his old tricks—begging for mercy. “I’m sorry, I was really wrong this time.”
Wen Xiuran’s gaze turned dark and unfathomable as he looked over. He truly couldn’t understand this beta before him—vain, lacking in virtue. He had let him off once, yet the fool had the audacity to test his limits again.
Looking at Shen Yan, who was trembling with red-rimmed eyes before him, Wen Xiuran thought the beta resembled a fox voluntarily exposing its belly while tucking its tail between its legs, begging for mercy.
Now, he found himself perplexed. In the past, anyone who dared touch his scent gland would have been beaten straight to the hospital. Yet now, this reckless beta had crossed the line by drugging him with sleeping pills, and he couldn’t bring himself to strike back.
This wasn’t good. It wasn’t his usual way of handling things. Wen Xiuran closed his eyes briefly before gripping Shen Yan’s face and lifting him up. His eyelids lifted slightly as he coldly scrutinized the beta before him.
He didn’t need an omega, much less a beta. He refused to be bound by anyone.
Shen Yan’s mouth was clamped shut by Wen Xiuran’s palm, the pain from his jaw making his eyes well up with tears. Unable to speak, Shen Yan could only guess at what Wen Xiuran intended to do with him—though for now, it seemed he wouldn’t be harmed. Still, Shen Yan couldn’t fathom the other man’s intentions.
Wen Xiuran remained indifferent even as Shen Yan’s teeth sank into the fleshy part of his hand.
He withdrew his palm, gripping Shen Yan’s chin instead, and poured liquor into his mouth.
Some of the alcohol splashed into Shen Yan’s eyes, causing him to writhe in pain. The liquid trickled down his jaw to his collarbone, clinging stickily to his skin before seeping into his clothes. The damp fabric clung uncomfortably, and Shen Yan’s skin flushed pink, his chest rising and falling more noticeably.
Wen Xiuran took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and set the half-empty bottle aside.
Freed, Shen Yan collapsed onto the bed, coughing violently. Some of the liquor had entered his nasal passages, making it hard to breathe. Between coughs, he wiped the alcohol from his body with his clothes, cursing the unscrupulous drug dealer in his mind.
What useless medicine! It didn’t work at all. He’d nearly lost his life over it.
“Don’t ever try drugging me again. Sleeping pills or anything else—very few substances have any effect on me.”
Shen Yan listened, suppressing his anger as he nodded. He coughed twice more before sitting up awkwardly. The peach scent lingering in the air clung to him, making him nauseous. He waved a hand in front of his face, trying to dispel it.
“Get out. Don’t let me see you again.”
Wen Xiuran’s tone was uncharacteristically agitated. He grabbed Shen Yan’s ankle, yanking him forward, and undid his belt.
The sheets wrinkled violently from the force, and Shen Yan’s shirt rode up to his waist, revealing old bruises. At the sight of the injuries, Wen Xiuran immediately recognized they weren’t from a fall. The marks were clearly from being gripped hard.
No wonder the doctor had given him such a strange look back then.
The last shred of restraint kept Wen Xiuran from hitting him. He watched as Shen Yan angrily straightened his clothes, while he himself dressed without expression. For some reason, his head began to ache, his emotions unsteady, and the scent gland at the back of his neck burned.
He touched the gland—usually inconspicuous, now swollen. Alarm bells rang in his mind as he glared at Shen Yan. “What the hell did you give me?”
Shen Yan didn’t even turn his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, using his foot to hook his shoe. His tone was impatient: “I didn’t drug you. I already told you—you just can’t hold your liquor.”
The peach scent in the air was cloyingly sweet, and Wen Xiuran’s mind began to blur. His body grew inexplicably restless, his skin burning slightly. Every sign pointed to one thing—Wen Xiuran’s rut was coming on.
But as someone without a mate, he shouldn’t be experiencing a rut. Was he, an S-rank Alpha, really so weak that a mere Beta could trigger his rut?
Wen Xiuran tried to leave the room as quickly as possible, but his steps were unsteady. The unfamiliar sensations coursing through his lower body left him disoriented. The peach-scented pheromones unconsciously gravitated toward Shen Yan. His eyes reddened, his breathing ragged as he strode toward him.
Shen Yan, head bowed as he slipped on his shoes, exposed the delicate curve of his neck. A woody fragrance wafted toward Wen Xiuran, and his last shred of rationality struggled desperately.
Why did a Beta have pheromones?
Why was he baring his neck in front of an Alpha?
Did he… want to be marked?
Wen Xiuran’s mind descended into chaos. Instinct took over. He wanted to embrace this person, kiss his face, and claim him.
The peach scent fermented in the room like alcohol. Shen Yan felt as if he weren’t in a hotel but some wholesale peach market.
“Just my luck…” Shen Yan muttered under his breath.
Even the inducer had no effect on Wen Xiuran. It seemed his plan was doomed from the start. Now, Shen Yan finally understood Xu Chu’s complaints back in the dorm—S-rank Alphas really were freaks!
He didn’t want to get beaten up, least of all by an Alpha. Better to pack up and leave before Wen Xiuran changed his mind and decided to make things difficult for him.
Shen Yan shuffled to the door in his half-worn shoes, gripping the handle and pulling it open just a crack. Light from outside streamed in, but the door stuck. He glanced down—the security chain was still latched. Back then, he’d been worried Wen Xiuran might escape, so he’d locked it extra tight.
And now, here he was, slinking out in defeat.
Shen Yan pursed his lips and reached for the chain.
A low, rough breath ghosted past his ear. A powerful grip seized his chin, forcing Shen Yan to turn his head.
Wen Xiuran’s kiss descended like a sudden storm—clumsy yet fierce, wild with inexperience. The Alpha was like a youth tasting forbidden fruit for the first time, teetering between exploration and conquest.
Shen Yan lost his balance, tumbling backward into Wen Xiuran’s arms. The Alpha coiled around him like a dragon hoarding treasure, one hand gripping the back of Shen Yan’s head as he kissed him messily, without restraint.
So, the drug was working after all?
Shen Yan arched a brow, tugging at Wen Xiuran’s hair as he studied the Alpha before him.
In the dim, hazy light, Wen Xiuran’s face was flushed a delicate pink. His golden eyes, bright as gilded foil, reflected Shen Yan’s image. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, dampening stray locks of hair that stuck to his pale skin.
A trace of blood lingered at the corner of his lips. The air itself seemed thick with the mingling scents of hormones and desire.
Shen Yan let out a mocking laugh, his other hand pressing unceremoniously against Wen Xiuran’s scent gland. The previously withered gland now swelled like a small bump, indicating that Wen Xiuran had entered his rut—proof that the plan had succeeded after all.
Wen Xiuran’s breathing suddenly turned ragged and heavy, each breath laden with boundless desire and agitation.
He lowered his head, inhaling deeply at Shen Yan’s neck like a starving wolf, his voice growing halting and trembling: “You… you should leave. There’s still time to go now.”
“Your face doesn’t look satisfied at all.” Shen Yan slowly reached out, gently cupping Wen Xiuran’s face, his eyes glinting with mischief and provocation.
“Let me help you, alright?”