Chapter 2: Heat and Hate

The ride was silent.

Kai leaned against the window of Alek’s personal transport, forehead pressed to the cool glass, watching the city blur past in streaks of red and blue. His breathing had steadied but his scent hadn't. It still hung in the air—thinner now, like smoke after a fire, but no less dangerous. The air inside the transport was saturated with it, and Alek could feel it in his veins like poison.

He kept his hands on the control panel. Kept his eyes forward. He counted the lights ahead of them, the seconds between his breaths. He focused on the mechanical, the routine—anything to keep the primal tension from digging into his chest.

"You live alone?" Kai asked suddenly, voice still raw.

Alek nodded. "Yes."

Kai didn’t speak again for several minutes. Then: "Good."

The word sat between them like a knife.

They pulled into the underground garage of Alek’s building. A private lift awaited. Kai’s steps were unsteady, but he didn't accept the offered hand this time. He refused to lean on anyone—not out of pride, but survival.

The elevator ride was long. Tense. Kai’s reflection flickered in the mirrored walls: bruised, filthy, gaunt. His clothes hung off his frame like wet rags. Alek noticed the way he stared at his own reflection—like he didn’t recognize it. Like he didn’t want to.

Alek didn’t speak.

Words would’ve broken something.

When the doors opened, Alek led the way into his penthouse. It was clean. Minimal. More like a hotel suite than a home. Cold surfaces, dim lighting, too much space. Kai blinked at the emptiness of it.

"This is yours?"

Alek nodded.

Kai snorted softly. "Of course. Alphas always live in palaces."

Alek didn’t rise to the bait.

"You can take the guest room. Bathroom’s attached. There are clothes in the wardrobe. They might be big, but they’re clean."

Kai walked stiffly into the hallway. He paused in the doorway. Didn’t look back.

"Thanks."

He didn’t sleep.

Kai lay on the guest bed—too soft, too clean, too alien—and stared at the ceiling. He’d showered, changed into oversized sweats, taken the suppressants Alek had placed silently on the nightstand. But sleep wouldn’t come. It never did when it was too quiet.

He kept expecting a lock to click. A voice to command. Hands to grab.

None came.

And that absence gnawed at him just as much as their presence once had.

He sat up after two hours, tangled in sheets that smelled like expensive detergent and nothing else. The window stretched across the far wall, giving a panoramic view of Helios City’s sleeping skyline. From this high up, everything looked small. Silent. Like it had nothing to do with the grime he’d clawed through to survive.

He got up. Wandered.

The penthouse was a surgical theater of taste. Cold grays, clean whites, black metal. Not a single picture. Not a single personal object. Kai trailed his fingers across the marble countertop, almost expecting alarms to sound.

He found Alek on the couch.

Still dressed, long legs stretched out, fingers steepled under his chin. Watching a blank screen.

Kai hovered at the edge of the room.

"You don’t sleep either?"

Alek’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. "Not much."

Kai stepped closer. Slowly. Cautiously. His voice was quiet. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you needed help."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one I have."

Kai folded his arms. "You expect me to believe you just... saw a broken Omega and thought, 'Let’s play hero today'?"

Alek didn’t flinch. "No. I didn’t think anything. I just couldn’t walk away."

Kai scoffed. "So you’re what? A noble Alpha?"

Alek finally looked at him. "I’m not noble."

Silence.

Kai stared at him for a long time. Then, too tired to keep standing, he sat on the edge of the couch. Not close. But not far either.

"I hate Alphas."

"I know."

"You should."

"I do."

Kai blinked. The quiet admission broke something.

He laughed. Just once. Dry, bitter. Then he buried his face in his hands.

"You don’t know what they did to me."

Alek didn’t answer.

Kai didn’t expect him to.

"They said I was born defective. An Omega with too much mouth. Too much fire. They tried to break it out of me. Every time I talked back. Every time I fought... they punished me."

His voice cracked. "And it worked. It worked so well I don’t even know who I am anymore."

Alek sat still. A statue in the dark. But his voice, when it came, was quieter than Kai had ever heard.

"You’re still here. That’s who you are."

Kai swallowed. Hard.

He rose and left the room without another word.

He woke screaming.

Nightmares clawed their way out of his throat. The room was dark but too large—he didn’t remember where he was at first. The smell hit him: linen, synthetic air, Alek’s lingering scent.

His breathing calmed slowly.

He got up and wandered again. The suppressants were wearing off. He felt the itch behind his teeth. The flush in his chest. The pressure building low in his gut.

He found Alek in the kitchen.

"I need more."

Alek was already holding another dose. He handed it over without a word.

Kai took it dry.

Then: "What happens when they stop working?"

"We’ll figure something out."

Kai stared at him. "You say that like it’s easy."

"It’s not. But I’m not leaving you alone with it."

That promise—simple, flat, absolute—hit harder than anything so far.

Kai turned away, ashamed of how much he wanted to believe it.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***