Michael's voice came low, ragged against her nape.
"The more I'm close to you… the worse it gets."
He inhaled her slowly, like drowning in something he didn't want to survive.
"You don't smell like an Omega. You don't smell like anything I've ever known. Krishna…"
His hand trembled slightly over her stomach. "It's like you're the switch. And just being near you flips something in me I can't name."
She stayed still. Absorbing it.
"I don't know when it starts," he continued. "But it never stops. Even now… I'm-" He dragged in another breath, sharp, hungry. "It's crawling under my skin."
Krishna turned in his hold, finally facing him.
"I need to understand it," she said, calm but firm. "If I don't, I won't last long. So take it. All of it. Let yourself go. And tell me everything you feel while it happens."
Michael's jaw clenched. "You sure?"
She nodded. "It's both a blessing and a curse. But if I can't control it, it controls me. So take it."
He didn't hesitate after that.
He leaned in again, nose pressed to her neck, breath shaky. He inhaled, deep. Then again. Again. Until it wasn't just a scent anymore, but a drug flooding his bloodstream.
At first, Michael stayed composed. He described it.
"It's… sweet. No, not sweet. Rich. Dense. It's like static in my veins."
His pupils widened. "My throat's dry. My heartbeat's not slowing."
Another breath.
"My stomach...fuck. It flips every time. My hands feel too small. Like I want to rip your clothes off just to find the source of it."
His fingers dug into her hips.
"It's not just arousal, it's need. Something under my skin screaming at me to mate, mark, keep."
Krishna didn't flinch. Just watched.
His voice cracked.
"My mouth… it's wet. I can't stop drooling. My cock's..." he swallowed, hard, "fully hard and leaking through the goddamn pants. I haven't even touched you."
Then came the snap.
Michael grunted, suddenly yanking her flush to his chest, the tremor in his body breaking like a fever.
"It's heat," he said. "You just threw me into fucking heat-"
Not a normal one. Not an Alpha's rut. But a spiraling, desperate cycle. Like he was the Omega begging to be bred.
Krishna said nothing. Just observed.
How his breath stuttered. How sweat beaded on his brow. How his voice dropped into a deep growl between each word. How his hands shook between reverence and violence.
How his eyes glazed over.
Like Aaron's.
Like the Twins'.
And suddenly, it clicked.
Every time she let Aaron near, every time he dropped to his knees with his nose buried at her core like prayer,
Every time the Twins whimpered and fought each other just to be the one allowed to lick her wrist or scent her thighs,
It wasn't her body that had them bound.
It was this.
The unseen pull. Her scent. The switch she never realized she was.
They were addicts. Obsessed. Reduced to instinct and fever and whimpers for her.
Not because she commanded them.
But because she triggered them.
And now, watching Michael break apart in front of her, begging without words, panting like a beast shackled in silk,
Krishna realized the truth.
She was the origin.
And now, she needed to weaponize it.
Or it would devour them all.
Krishna stepped back, just slightly.
Not enough to break the moment, but enough to study him. Observe.
She needed to know.
Omegas had cycles. Their scent spiked then faded. Alphas drowned the room with theirs, dominant, primal, choking.
But hers?
She watched Michael closely, arms behind her back, eyes narrowed with precision. "Do you still smell me?" she asked, voice low, scientific.
Michael blinked, still panting softly, pupils blown, body tight like a bowstring. "If I use my nose, no. I don't smell anything. Not the usual way."
He exhaled through his nose, slower now. "But it's still there."
Krishna tilted her head.
Michael touched his chest, his arm, then dragged a hand across his jaw like it ached. "It's not a scent anymore. It's in my skin. My blood. You're in there, Krishna."
He stepped forward. His voice dropped, hoarse, reverent. "Wherever you go… it doesn't matter. It sticks. You've already carved yourself in."
She didn't move.
"You're the drug and the antidote," he breathed. "A whiff of you, it keeps me grounded. You leave, and it burns. You get closer…"
He let out a low groan. "It's not even lust. It's something older. Meaner. My instincts want to drop to my knees and stay there. You walk away and I...I lose myself."
Krishna blinked once.
Not with fear.
With realization.
There would be no fade. No dominance canceling her out. No cycle controlling the intensity.
She was the constant.
Not just a rare scent, she was the bond. The leash and the high. The trigger and the cure. Alphas didn't drown her out.
They dissolved under her.
And Michael…?
He wasn't broken. He was rewritten.
And there was no going back.
Krishna moved back in.
Slow, deliberate steps, her eyes never leaving Michael's.
He stood still, waiting. Not trembling, not whining. Just breathing her in like she was air in a vacuum. She could see the veins in his neck pulsing, the way his hands twitched at his sides. Holding. Barely.
"You helped," she said, tone unreadable.
Michael nodded, trying to stay composed. "Anything."
She reached up, fingers grazing his jaw, then his throat, feeling the heat rising under her palm. "You gave me something useful. So I'll give you something back."
Michael's breath caught.
"I reward those who help me," she murmured, fingers trailing down to the hollow of his throat, where his pulse beat like a warning.
She leaned in close, lips at his ear. "I still don't know what I am. Not entirely. But I will. I have to."
Her voice was darker now, laced with something less innocent. "Shallow knowledge doesn't serve power. It only tempts failure."
Michael swallowed hard.
Krishna's palm flattened against his chest. "But now I have a gist. A spark. A scent that burns and binds." Her hand curled into his shirt. "And you helped me see that."
He finally looked down at her, dazed. "So… this is my reward?"
Krishna smiled, small and sharp. "This is your mark."
She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss just below his jaw. Not sweet. Not soft. It lingered like ownership.
When she pulled back, Michael stood like he'd been branded. She could see it, his knees wanted to give out, his control fraying again.
"I need more," she whispered, eyes already shifting, mind elsewhere. "More tests. More triggers. More reactions."
She turned, back straight, voice cool again. "Get some rest. I'll call you when I need another fix of your instincts."
And Michael, still trembling from one touch, didn't question a thing.