[POV: Hayden]
It came just as I’d expected—slow at first, then violent.
The first morning of my rut hit like a thunderstorm tearing through a calm sky.
By midafternoon, I was already fighting to keep my wolf from clawing out of my skin. The heat simmered beneath my flesh, dragging fire through every nerve, and the scent—her scent—lingered in my lungs like smoke I couldn’t exhale.
“Piper,” I growled, voice hoarse and sharp from the fever burning in my blood. “Aaron will take over for the next few days. Full leadership. You’re his second.”
“Of course, Alpha,” she said, hesitant.
Then, carefully Aaron added, “Hayden, should I… speak to one of the Omegas? Perhaps have someone brought—”
My glare cut him off mid-sentence.
He didn’t finish. Just swallowed hard, gave a short nod, and retreated.
I turned to Piper next. She understood even without me saying it twice.
“No one goes near your room,” she said crisply. “I’ll handle the servants and the guard rotations. You’ll get food and water at your door only. No interruptions.”
“Good,” I muttered.
And with that, I slammed the door shut behind me and threw the bolt.
Darkness. Silence. And then, the unbearable burn.
I’d survived this before. Every year since Annabeth’s death, I’d endured the heat alone, shut away with nothing but cold baths, brutal training, and sheer force of will.
I had never once taken an Omega into my bed during a rut. Not even in the worst of it.
But this time… this time was different.
Because now I wanted someone. Needed someone.
And not just anyone. Her. Aria.
It wasn’t even a desire anymore—it was like an obsession. Her scent filled my thoughts.
Pine and snowdrops.
It was in my blood. In my sweat. I could feel her in my fangs, under my skin, embedded in every pulse of heat crawling through my body.
Sirius wasn’t helping.
He was feral. Pacing. Growling. Scratching at the insides of my mind like a caged animal.
“Go to her,” he snarled. “She’s close—I can feel her. Her scent is all over us. She’s ours.”
“She’s not here,” I spat aloud, panting, dragging my claws down the stone wall. “She’s not anywhere near here.”
But her scent clung to everything.
I stripped off my sweat-drenched shirt and stumbled to the window, throwing it open to breathe fresh air—but it only made it worse.
Even the wind felt like her touch. Even the breeze reminded me of her fingers fisting my shirt the night she broke down in my arms, of how fragile and desperate she’d been.
How right she’d felt pressed against me.
My heat peaked, savage and raw. My body ached with the need to take. To claim. To have her.
Growling, I shoved a hand through my hair and stormed across the room, desperate to find some way to suppress it. I tore off the rest of my clothes and fell into the cold basin of water—but even then, the burn didn’t stop. It seared.
I tried to ignore it. To endure it. But instinct didn’t care about discipline. Didn’t care about honor or pride.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I gave in.
My hand wrapped around myself, fast and rough, every stroke fed by the vision of Aria—flushed and breathless, eyes glazed with pleasure, her mouth parted in soft moans as I pulled her into my lap, into my teeth, into my bed.
I gritted my teeth, trying to banish the image—but it stayed.
She was the only one I saw. She was all I wanted.
I came hard, growling through my teeth, but the release brought no peace. Only more hunger. More need.
And then that scent again. Stronger. Real. Too real.
I froze. Slowly, like I was possessed, I turned toward the armoire in the corner. The drawer was cracked open. A shirt.
The shirt. The one I’d worn the night Aria clung to me like she was drowning.
It still held her scent—embedded deep in the threads from where she’d pressed her face to my chest. I had thrown it there after that night, too haunted to wear it again.
Now it called to me like a siren.
I should’ve burned it. I wanted to burn it.
But instead… I fell to my knees and pulled it out, hands shaking. And I pressed it to my face. The moment the fabric touched my skin, something inside me snapped.
The scent hit me like a drug—pine and snowdrops, delicate and earthy and utterly hers.
I groaned low in my throat, sinking to the floor, burying my face in the shirt as I breathed her in like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
I imagined her under me, skin hot and slick with sweat, her lips at my throat, her legs wrapped tight around my hips. I imagined the sounds she’d make when I took her. The way she’d whimper when I bit down and marked her for good.
Sirius howled in my mind, triumphant. “Ours. She’s ours.”
“Aria,” I gasped, unable to stop myself now.
Again and again, I stroked myself, face still buried in the shirt, body shaking with desperate need. My thoughts weren’t my own anymore. My body belonged to her. My scent, my sweat, my everything was hers.
I came again—harder, louder—and still, it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough until I had her beneath me. Until I had her in every way. And so it went for the rest of the night.
Her scent. Her name. My hands. My hunger.
My shame.
But not once—not even once—did I stop.