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LUCA

H eat crept beneath my skin like an unwelcome tide, rising in slow, inexorable waves. I'd felt the warning signs all evening—the feverish flush across my collarbones, the subtle ache deep in my abdomen, the hypersensitivity that heightened every sensation to unbearable clarity. Each light seemed too bright, each sound too sharp, each surface against my skin either unbearably rough or devastatingly smooth.

I'd assumed the suppressants were safe, untouched in the bathroom cabinet. I hadn't checked. Why would I ? The penthouse was supposed to be secure, Matteo's promises of increased protection a fortress around us both. It wasn't until the heat rose that I realized how vulnerable we truly remained.

I retreated to my bedroom as the symptoms intensified, burying myself beneath layers of blankets as if their weight could somehow contain the biological imperative awakening in my blood. The expensive cotton sheets that had once felt like luxury now scraped against my oversensitized skin like sandpaper, drawing a whimper I couldn't suppress.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet. Matteo had promised stronger suppressants tomorrow. Just one more day of control, of dignity, of maintaining the fragile partnership we'd constructed atop the legal claiming that existed only on paper.

A paper claiming that my body seemed determined to make real.

I pressed my face into the pillow, inhaling deeply, searching for traces of my own scent to gauge how far the heat had progressed. The honey-citrus notes that typically defined me had intensified dramatically, turning heavier, sweeter, more demanding—a biological beacon designed to call to any alpha within range. To call to him.

"No," I whispered into the darkness, the word emerging as a plea rather than a command. " Not like this."

My fingers fumbled behind my ear, touching the suppressant patch that should have prevented this very scenario. The edges felt loose, the adhesive failing—a technological barrier crumbling against biological imperative. Another wave of heat washed through me, drawing a gasp as slick warmth formed between my thighs, my body preparing itself without permission from my conscious mind.

I curled tighter beneath the blankets, as if making myself smaller might somehow contain the pheromones already saturating the air around me. Time lost meaning as the heat rose in steady increments, transforming discomfort into need, need into desperation. I drifted in and out of fevered consciousness, each awakening bringing me closer to the precipice I'd spent my adult life avoiding.

When I jerked fully awake, the room had darkened completely. Night had fallen while I'd struggled against my biology, the penthouse silent save for the soft hum of climate control and the ragged sound of my own breathing. Something had changed—some shift in my surroundings had penetrated the haze of approaching heat to trigger alarm.

I forced myself upright, pushing sweat-dampened curls from my forehead as I scanned the darkened room. The motion sent another wave of dizziness crashing over me, my body protesting the vertical position when all instinct demanded I present, submit, yield to the biological imperative consuming me from within.

"Focus," I hissed to myself, the word emerging as a command in the quiet room.

A faint gleam caught my eye—moonlight reflecting off glass from the en suite bathroom, the door standing partially open. With trembling limbs, I pushed aside the blankets, the cooler air against my overheated skin providing momentary relief as I staggered toward the bathroom.

The light switch felt cold beneath my fevered fingertips. Fluorescent brightness flooded the space, momentarily blinding me before my vision adjusted to reveal the source of my subconscious alarm.

On the marble countertop, shards of glass glittered like crushed diamonds—the remains of the suppressant vials Matteo had expedited earlier that day, the stronger formulation he'd promised would help until tomorrow's specialized delivery. The medication itself formed viscous puddles across the counter and floor, rendered useless, deliberately destroyed. Not accident. Sabotage .

Cold dread cut through the heat-haze for one clarifying moment. Someone had entered while I slept, despite Matteo's lockdown protocols, despite the guards he'd stationed. A staff member? A security breach? Someone with access, with keys, with knowledge of the penthouse layout. Someone had ensured the suppressants would fail. Someone wanted me vulnerable, biological, at the mercy of the heat that now coursed through me with renewed intensity.

I clutched the edge of the counter as another wave crashed over me, stronger than before, my knees threatening to buckle. My scent had transformed entirely now, heavy and sweet and desperate in a way I barely recognized as myself. My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger—pupils blown wide, skin flushed, lips parted with quickened breath. The omega I'd spent years suppressing, denying, controlling—now fully emergent and impossible to ignore.

With the last fragments of rational thought, I fumbled for my phone, fingers trembling so violently I could barely operate the screen. I needed to alert Matteo , needed to warn him of the breach in security, needed...

The thought trailed into incoherence as another wave of heat consumed me, more powerful than any preceding it. My phone clattered to the tile floor as I doubled over, a low moan escaping before I could contain it. The sound reverberated in the bathroom's confined space, primal and unmistakable—the call of an omega in full heat.

I needed to return to the bed, to bury myself beneath layers that might contain my scent, to lock the door against whoever had done this. Against Matteo himself, whose alpha biology would respond to my condition whether either of us willed it or not. The paper claiming would become meaningless against the biological imperative of an alpha confronted with an omega in heat—his claimed omega, whether the claim existed in blood and bond or merely legal documentation.

The distance from bathroom to bedroom stretched like an impossible journey. I managed three stumbling steps before my legs gave out entirely, sending me to my knees on the plush carpet. The world tilted and spun around me, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of my own need.

Not like this. Not as a biological imperative. Not as a prisoner of my own body.

The sound of the door opening registered dimly through my heat-addled consciousness. Heavy footsteps approached—the unmistakable cadence of Matteo Corvino , the scent of him preceding his physical presence like a storm front.

* * *

MATTEO

The hall outside Luca's room became my prison, every inch of polished marble a border I could not cross. His scent saturated the air, transformed into something devastating, something that called to the most primal part of me with a siren's destructive promise.

I'd been halfway across the city when his scent-bond had surged in my blood, when the molecular awareness that connected us even without a completed claiming had triggered warning signals impossible to ignore. Something wrong. Something dangerous. Something biological overtaking what was mine.

I'd abandoned the meeting without explanation, leaving Carlo to manage the fallout with the Colombian suppliers. Nothing had mattered in that moment except reaching Luca , my claimed omega, whose distress signal had transmitted across miles of urban landscape with unmistakable urgency.

The security footage had confirmed the breach—a delivery person, properly vetted but compromised, accessing Luca's quarters with a food tray. The cameras had caught her entering, leaving—but not what had transpired in the fifteen minutes between. Not the sabotage. Not the deliberate destruction of chemical barriers between Luca's biology and vulnerability.

Now I stood outside his door, each breath filling my lungs with particles of his distress, his need, his involuntary call to the alpha who had claimed him on paper but not yet in blood. The scent of him had transformed completely—the subtle honey-citrus notes now a maelstrom of sweetness, urgency, and biological demand.

My vision sharpened with predatory focus, each element of the hallway rendered in hyper-detailed clarity despite the dimmed lighting. My canines throbbed with threatening extension, my muscles coiling with potential energy. Every cell in my body demanded I break down the door, claim what was mine, complete the bond biology was already screaming for.

"Go," he had begged, tears streaking down his flushed face. " Please go."

I had gone. Not far enough. Never far enough.

With brutal effort, I forced my right hand to unclench, to release the doorknob I'd been gripping with enough force to warp the metal. My left hand pressed against the wall beside the door, fingernails digging into the plaster until fine dust sifted down to the marble floor.

His scent continued its assault on my senses sharpening to something that cut through rational thought like a blade through silk. Beneath it all lay that distinctive undertone—warm rain on stone—now heated to steam that threatened to scald judgment entirely.

Mine, my alpha hindbrain insisted with increasing urgency. Suffering . Needing . Mine .

The wall seemed the safer focus, where I could direct my strength without harming what was mine. The plaster continued crumbling under my grip, a poor substitute for the violence my body demanded—the claiming of vulnerable flesh, the sealing of biochemical bond through the exchange of blood and saliva and shared pleasure.

From beyond the door came a cry that pierced through all defenses—raw, desperate, my name embedded within the sound. " Matteo !"

I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, focusing on the sensation to ground myself as another wave of his scent washed over me. My own biology had begun responding beyond conscious control—rut rising in answer to his heat, my scent sharpening with protective aggression, with possessive intent.

If I claimed him now, like this, it wouldn't be choice. It would be biology dictating terms both of us would have to live with forever. The paper claiming could be dissolved, could be reversed through legal mechanisms if necessary. A claiming bite—flesh yielding to teeth, exchanging biochemicals that would permanently alter us both—that was irrevocable. That was forever.

He deserved better than an alpha unable to master his own biology.

He deserved choice within constraint, partnership within possession.

I would burn for him instead.

My muscles trembled with the effort of restraint, sweat beading along my hairline despite the cool air of the hallway. The doorknob remained within my reach, the barrier between us penetrable with minimal effort. The instinct to claim, to possess, to take what was already legally mine grew stronger with each pained sound that filtered through the wood.

"Matteo," he called again, my name fracturing into syllables of desperate need. " Please . I can't— I can't bear it."

My hand rose toward the doorknob once more before I forced it back to my side, nails digging crescents into my palm as I fought for control against the primal imperative now roaring through my system.

If I entered that room, if I allowed myself to taste his heat-scent directly rather than through the filter of wooden barriers, there would be no return. The alpha already straining against civilized restraint would break free completely. I would claim him—not through mutual choice or partnership, but through biological inevitability neither of us could resist in our current states.

And he would hate me for it, once the heat receded. Once clarity returned. Once choice had been stripped away by instinct neither could fully control.

The sound of his suffering continued filtering through the door, each moan and whimper striking my control like hammer blows to weakening metal. My forehead pressed harder against the wall, the cool plaster offering momentary clarity through physical sensation as my body temperature continued rising with the onset of responsive rut.

Mine to protect. Mine to honor. Mine to respect through restraint rather than possession.

When the Souzas discovered they had created this vulnerability in what was mine, they would pay with blood and territory both. Every person involved in the sabotage—from whoever had turned our staff member to whoever had issued the original order—would disappear from existence. Their families would speak of them in past tense. Their territories would become mine. Their legacy would be erased from memory.

But first, I had to survive this night without betraying the trust of the omega suffering behind this door. Without allowing biology to override the choice that had to exist between us for any true partnership to form.

He had not chosen this heat. He had not chosen this moment. He had not asked for the biological vulnerability now being used against us both.

I would endure the fire in my blood, the ache in my jaw, the tension coiled through every muscle. I would stand guard while he suffered. I would protect what was mine from afar, offering security without taking advantage of vulnerability that would be so easy to exploit.

From within the room came sounds of movement, of struggle, of an omega fighting his own biology with the same determination I battled mine. The scent grew stronger, more complex, layers of need and desperation and biological imperative saturating the air until it felt like breathing liquid fire.

Mine, my alpha hindbrain insisted with unwavering certainty. Suffering . Fix . Claim . Mine .

Ours, my human choice countered with newfound clarity. Partnership . Respect . Choice .

The distinction made all the difference as I maintained my vigil outside the door, as I burned for him instead of with him, as I proved through restraint what possession could never demonstrate: that he mattered beyond biology, beyond claim, beyond the primal imperatives neither of us could fully escape.

That the omega who had entered my life through missing millions had become essential in ways that transcended strategic alliance or legal documentation.

That whatever existed between us would be forged through mutual choice, through partnership within possession, through respect that acknowledged vulnerability without exploiting it.

Even if that meant enduring the worst night of biological torment either of us had ever experienced.

Even if that meant standing guard while what was mine suffered behind closed doors I refused to breach without invitation.

Even if that meant burning with unanswered need while honoring boundaries biology insisted were irrelevant between alpha and claimed omega.

I would endure. For him. For us. For what might exist beyond this night of fire and restraint.

For the future neither of us had anticipated when paper claiming had set us on this path, but that now seemed like the only one worth fighting for—through biology, through vulnerability, through the fire in our blood neither had chosen but both now endured.