"Get this thing off me! Get it off me now!" Noah exclaimed, his voice laced with disgust as he thrust the offending item forward.
Damian, who rarely laughed, looked at him with a flicker of amusement. He took the boxers from Noah’s hand, glanced at them, and grimaced slightly.
"Oh dear, those aren’t mine. They must belong to Marcus—he probably left them here by mistake," Damian explained calmly.
Noah stared at him in utter horror, his face twisting with revulsion. "Okay, how the hell is that my business? You know what? You guys are disgusting. I’m getting the fuck out of here."
He stood up abruptly. He had already wiped down the toilet earlier, so he pressed the flush button with more force than necessary. As he turned to storm out of the bathroom, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping his arm firmly. The sudden pull sent Noah’s legs twisting awkwardly beneath him, and he plummeted straight into Damian’s waiting grip.
*Jeez, what is it with this guy? Is he some kind of pervert now?* Noah thought wildly.
"Don’t pretend you don’t want to see me naked," Damian said, his voice low and teasing. "Tell me, how did you end up in my bathroom when there are others available—and even one in your own room?"
Noah looked at him, shaking his head in disbelief. This whole situation felt like it served him right for wandering into the domain of what might very well be a psychopath. He was getting riled up just from being held like this, and damn it, why did Damian have to smell so good?
"Oh wow, that’s so fucking rude. What makes you think I came here for you? Who do you think you are, some kind of gold mine?" Noah shot back, struggling to free himself. He hadn’t noticed the intense look Damian was giving him, or how the other guy was leaning in closer, clearly trying to inhale more of his scent.
"What the fuck, guy? You’re too close. Can you back off?" Noah exclaimed, panic rising in his chest. Part of him wanted to push away, yet another confusing impulse lingered—something about stealing his first kiss from a person like this didn’t entirely repel him. Still, Damian kept pressing closer, caging him completely with an arm around his waist.
With his free hand, Damian trailed his fingers softly along Noah’s thigh, making him flinch at the unexpected touch.
"You’ve changed so much," Damian murmured. "Why aren’t you following us around anymore, Noah? Why did you stop? And your scent... it was never this addictive. What the fuck happened to you?" His voice dropped lower, carrying a dangerous edge that left Noah feeling unexpectedly aroused.
*Fuck, this isn’t supposed to happen.* The hand on his thigh felt euphoric, almost like a drug spreading warmth through his body.
"Maybe because I’m tired of taking your guys’ fucked-up shit," Noah replied, his words spilling out with surprising intensity. "Maybe I’m fed up with being rejected and bullied all the time. Don’t you think I deserve to move on?"
That response sparked something deep within Damian. His blue crystalline eyes glowed with an inner light as they took Noah in. He inhaled deeply, drawing in more of the intoxicating scent like an obsessed predator. Noah, still trapped in his hold, couldn’t move. Yet he found himself equally stuck, breathing in Damian’s own mysterious aroma—one he couldn’t quite decipher, unlike anyone else’s. It left him unsettled, wondering why this one scent felt so different and impossible to pin down.
"You never appreciated me, so why should I stick around? I’m human too. Shouldn’t I go to someone who actually makes me feel special?" The words poured out of Noah, and he wasn’t entirely sure if they were purely his own thoughts or influenced by something deeper—perhaps Ashton’s lingering presence or emotions surfacing unexpectedly.
Damian’s hands suddenly dropped. He took a step backward, his gaze falling to the floor. Just as Noah prepared to bolt from the bathroom, Damian spoke again, his words snapping something raw and confusing inside Noah.
"I always wanted to speak to you, but... I don’t know, I felt shy. Something didn’t add up with you, and I thought you were weird. But I never hated your presence. Then all of a sudden you changed. Now you don’t look at me anymore and can’t stand being near me. Is it because of all the things me and my squad said to you?"
The question sounded incredibly dumb to Noah. For a fleeting second, he almost felt a pang of sympathy—until the full weight of it hit him, evaporating any new or confusing emotions in an instant.
"Maybe you should figure that out yourself," Noah snapped. "When you and your friends were bullying others, I wasn’t there with you. Ashton Lane can’t have anything to do with bullies. I’m not foolish, so get the fuck out of my sight and let me pass."
His pheromones flared uncontrollably in that moment, though Noah didn’t notice. He stormed off, frowning deeply, pissed that Damian had somehow made the entire confrontation about himself. Of course he was a narcissist—that was exactly how people like him behaved. How dare he?
Just as Noah exited the bathroom, Damian’s legs buckled. He nearly collapsed to the floor, forced to grab onto the wall for support. A dangerous, euphoric pressure washed over him—seductive and pulling, dragging him dangerously close to the edge. His skin prickled with heat, and a long-buried need surfaced violently. A deep yearning broke free, threatening to turn him almost feral if he didn’t regain control.
Damian recognized the signs. This was Ashton’s—no, Noah’s—pheromones at work. But such an intense reaction had never happened before. Why now? Why all of a sudden?
Wasn’t he supposed to be the one in control as an alpha? His own pheromones were meant to calm and soothe an omega, not the other way around. This felt completely reversed, like he’d taken a powerful drug that exploded every forbidden thought and desire buried inside him. If he didn’t act on it soon, it might consume him entirely.
"Fuck you, Noah... how could you leave me like this?" he muttered through gritted teeth.
Sweat glistened dangerously across his skin, making it look as if he’d just stepped out of a shower. Damian staggered out of the bathroom, hoping he could sleep off the overwhelming sensation. But on his way, he encountered Marcus, who wore an eerily similar expression—flushed, unsteady, and on the verge of collapse.
Marcus nearly fell against him, but Damian pushed him off in irritation. "Dang, dude. Take care of yourself. That’s some fucked-up shit."
Marcus waved it off weakly. "Did you feel that? It’s almost like I’m being pulled from my consciousness. My soul feels washed clean. It feels so good I can’t even explain it."
Damian nodded. Those were the perfect words to describe the overwhelming pull. "It’s not supposed to happen. How the hell is this going on? We aren’t supposed to fall under this kind of influence—like we’re being controlled. It’s not meant to last this long."
He collapsed onto the nearby couch, his body still humming with residual energy. "I’m not going to classes. No one can see me like this."
Marcus thought for a moment, his mind drifting. "Sylvia... what are you going to tell her?"
At the mention of the girl’s name, Damian hissed in annoyance. Nothing special or blissful had ever come from that relationship. If anything, it left him feeling tossed around like an old rag. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to stay here and savor this rare, intoxicating feeling for once in his life.
"She can go fuck herself," Damian replied bluntly. "No damn way I’m letting the whole school see me like this." His crotch strained uncomfortably against his clothes, a visible reminder of his current state.
Marcus added another thought, his voice thoughtful despite the haze. "We’ve seen how Ashton—seems so different lately. What if he isn’t an omega at all? What if he’s pretending to be one? Like he isn’t as weak as we thought."
The words hung in the air like smoke. Damian’s expression turned stiff, contemplative. He finally closed his eyes, a dangerous glint hidden behind his lids. "Then I’m more excited than ever to uncover those deeply buried secrets of his."
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by their labored breathing. Both alphas wrestled with sensations that defied their usual dominance. Noah’s departure had left an imprint far stronger than either had anticipated. For Damian, the encounter replayed in his mind—the way Noah’s body had felt against his, the unexpected fire in his words, and that irresistible scent that promised both pleasure and chaos.
He shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the persistent ache. Memories of past interactions with Noah flickered through his thoughts. There had been a time when Noah followed their group more closely, enduring the casual cruelty that came with it. But something had changed. Noah had pulled away, transforming himself in ways that both frustrated and intrigued Damian. Now, this new version carried power in his presence, even if he didn’t seem to realize it fully.
Marcus paced slowly nearby, equally affected. "This changes things, doesn’t it? We can’t just brush it off."
Damian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let the euphoric pull linger a moment longer, embracing the rare vulnerability it forced upon him. Whatever Noah had become, whatever secrets he hid, Damian was determined to explore them. The chase had only just begun, and for the first time in years, he felt truly alive with anticipation.