Krishna didn't move from Michael's lap.
She just let out a sigh. "Well. That was dramatic."
Michael leaned back in the armchair, one hand gripping her bare thigh, the other pressing against the side of his temple.
"Dramatic," he repeated, voice low. "She nearly had me rutted on the floor like some feral idiot."
Krishna smirked. "You're welcome."
He gave her a look. Exhausted. Slightly flushed. "You knew she'd come?"
"I didn't know when," she replied calmly. "But I knew she would. You're one of Triton's top whales. And Bella's appetite is as predictable as her perfume."
He nodded, lips twitching without humor. "I took the suppressant, by the way. Right before she came in."
"Not fast enough?"
"Not strong enough," he muttered, running a hand down his face. "Whatever scent she's enhanced with, it's not the usual. It hit me like a goddamn weapon. I had to dig my nails into the leather just to stop myself from grabbing her throat and-"
"Mounting her?" Krishna offered, voice like a knife dipped in honey.
His jaw clenched.
"Her scent," he admitted, "isn't just rare. It's dominant. Engineered. She's not some soft-blooming Omega raised to kneel and scent tea towels. She's a lethal breed. Born to trigger feral instinct."
Krishna's eyes darkened. "She's been weaponizing it since she was fifteen. Some men said no, once. They don't remember it."
Michael exhaled. Sweat slicked the edge of his temple. "Fucking hell."
"You're burning," Krishna observed, pressing her palm to his chest. His skin was warm. No, hot. And rising.
"The pill's fading," he said through gritted teeth. "And her scent's still here. Jesus, it's in the damn couch.."
He stopped.
His body tensed beneath her.
Krishna's hand slid slowly to the back of his neck. Cool, grounding.
"You're not going to rut," she said flatly. "You're stronger than that."
"It's not about strength anymore," he rasped, breathing heavier now. "It's chemical. My body's reacting on instinct."
"You need another dose?"
"No time," he bit out, jaw clenching. "The scent's already past the threshold. She… she layered it on. She knew I'd resist the first wave."
"Breathe through me," she murmured. "Focus. Anchor."
"Fuck, Krishna-"
"I'm right here," she whispered. "And I don't reek of poison."
Michael turned, forehead pressed into her shoulder, swallowing ragged breaths as the invisible chains of Bella's scent wrapped tighter around him.
Krishna stroked his hair.
She'd seen men fall before.
But she refused to let this one break.
Michael was trembling now.
Still seated, shirt undone, skin glistening with sweat. His pupils blown wide, teeth gritted as the last of the suppressant crumbled under Bella's lingering scent.
Krishna didn't move at first. She studied him like a patient she'd seen before, someone drugged, fevered, barely clinging to himself.
He hissed, voice cracking. "Krishna...fuck...it's not going down-"
"I know," she said simply. "It won't."
He growled, fists clenched. "It's crawling under my skin. Like she left it in me."
"She did," Krishna answered, rising from his lap slowly. "That was the point."
His breath hitched.
She stood in front of him, her robe loose, nearly falling from her shoulders. His gaze dropped immediately. Her body was a balm and a trigger at once.
"Bella wanted you to snap," Krishna murmured. "To forget. To rut her stupid and tie her to your empire."
"I didn't," he ground out, chest heaving. "I didn't touch her."
"I know."
Michael's head dropped back against the chair, the leather groaning beneath him. He was flushed down to his collarbone. His chest rose fast, too fast. Krishna could see it, his knot was already swelling.
"You're past the suppression window," she said softly. "Only one thing will flush it out."
He laughed, but it was hollow. "You want me to jerk off to get her scent out of my system?"
"No."
Krishna knelt.
Right between his knees.
Michael flinched. "Krishna-"
"I'm not her," she said, voice cold. "I'm not here to seduce you into a contract. I'm not bathing in synthetic pheromones to get on your desk."
Her fingers moved to his belt.
"I'm here to break it," she whispered, undoing the buckle. "To burn her out."
He tried to speak. She silenced him by dragging the zipper down.
His cock sprang free, already flushed, twitching, painfully hard. Krishna didn't hesitate. She wrapped her fingers around him, firm, smooth, confident.
Michael choked out a gasp.
"Krishna...wait-"
"I said breathe through me," she murmured. "So shut up. And let go."
She stroked once.
He growled. His hips jerked.
Twice, slower. She watched him unravel.
His eyes shut tight, jaw locked, head thrown back as she dragged her palm over his length, twisting just right at the head. She wasn't teasing, she couldn't. His body was already beyond restraint, heat pouring off him in waves, his cock leaking with the ache of a need he hadn't chosen.
"I hate that it's her scent," he spat through clenched teeth. "I hate that she's still in my head-"
"She's not," Krishna snapped, jerking him harder now. "Look at me. Look."
He obeyed.
And what he saw gutted him.
Krishna, hair messy, robe slipped halfway down her back, lips parted in control. Beautiful, yes, but not in the same way as Bella. This wasn't illusion. This was rage and devotion. Fire and purpose.
"Focus on me," she whispered. "Let me scrub her out."
Her head dipped.
Michael cried out, deep, guttural, as her mouth closed over the head of his cock. Warm. Wet. Real.
She didn't stop. She sucked him down slowly, lips dragging, hand pumping the base in rhythm. It wasn't a performance, it was destruction. Controlled demolition. She was dismantling everything Bella left clinging to his skin, with every stroke of her tongue.
Michael's hands shot down, gripping her shoulders, trembling.
"Krishna,...I'm not gonna last...I can't-"
She didn't pull off. She just hummed.
And that broke him.
His hips lifted hard off the chair, thrusting deeper, desperate, snarling. His vision blurred as the knot pulsed. Krishna held him firm, hand pressing on his stomach to keep him grounded.
Then he came.
It hit like a violent purge, groan torn from his throat, hips bucking, cock twitching as he spilled down her throat. His entire body arched, locked, emptied.
Krishna swallowed it all.
Only then did she let go, lips dragging off with a soft, wet pop.
Michael collapsed into the chair, arms limp, breathing ragged. His heart pounded against his ribs. For a second, just a second, he thought he might cry.
Krishna wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
And smiled.
"She's out of your system now."
He looked at her, eyes glassy, chest still rising hard.
"You didn't have to, "
"Yes, I did," Krishna cut in. "I wasn't going to let you be another name on her heat list. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let your scent mark her."
He groaned. "This isn't how we're supposed to do business."
She climbed onto his lap again, straddling him, heat meeting heat.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I'm not doing business, Michael. I'm playing war."