It hit him harder than any accusation. His alpha scent flared, snapping tight around Eren in a cage of protective heat. He was losing control—losing it all to this fragile man who looked at him like he was the only thing that kept him alive.
"Red…" His voice broke. "I'm not angry. Not at you. I was—" he swallowed hard, jaw clenching, "—scared. You think I don't have the right to be overprotective? Every time you're in danger, it tears me apart. I can't—"
He didn't finish.
Because Eren leaned in and kissed him.
Soft. Quick. A breath stolen between heartbeats.
Adriel froze, lips parted.
Then Eren kissed him again—slower this time, lingering, his trembling scent turning warm and coaxing.
"I'll be more careful next time," he whispered against Adriel's mouth.
Adriel's chest tightened. He hated how weak he felt around him. Hated how every wall crumbled with one look, one kiss, one pleading note of omega scent.
And yet—he couldn't pull away.
"I hate worrying about you," he admitted, voice low and rough. "It messes me up. I lose it. And the only way I know how to protect you is—" His throat closed before he could finish.
Eren stepped into his arms, pressing his cheek against Adriel's chest, breathing in his alpha scent like it was the only air he trusted.
"Can you wait a little longer?" he whispered.
Adriel's jaw locked, fury and tenderness colliding inside him. "A little longer? Red, this whole secret thing feels like forever. You really want me to keep pretending we're nothing?"
"I'm almost there," Eren said softly. "The final competition's close. Once I make it to the design team, I won't stop you anymore. If you want to tell the world about us, I'll let you."
Adriel searched his face, reading every flicker of sincerity. His pheromones pressed close, fierce but restrained. Finally, he nodded once. "Fine. But don't think you can stop me from protecting you. I won't let today happen again. You have no idea how close—"
"It won't happen again," Eren cut in, lifting his gaze. His voice was quiet, but his scent pulsed steady—anchoring, reassuring.
And then—his stomach growled.
They both stilled.
A beat of silence.
Then Adriel chuckled, tension snapping like a frayed string. "Looks like someone's not satisfied with dinner," he teased, brushing a strand of hair from Eren's face. His hand lingered, thumb grazing his cheek. "Come on, sit. Finish your food."
He guided him gently back to the chair, his hand warm and steady around Eren's wrist. His alpha pheromones curled softer now, protective and tender, coaxing calm.
Eren sat, obedient for once. Adriel picked up the spoon, holding it out.
But Eren didn't take it. He looked up, lashes damp, lips parted. His scent shifted—low, needy, insistent—pulling Adriel in like a tide.
"I want something else," Eren whispered.
The spoon clattered softly against the plate.
Adriel's chest ached. His throat burned. His alpha instincts howled, demanding bond, demanding mark, demanding claim.
"What exactly do you want, Red?" he asked, voice rough, dangerous.
Eren held his gaze, unflinching. His scent trembled but didn't falter.
"You," he whispered.
Adriel blinked. Once. Twice.
Then he coughed, sharply, like the word had punched the air out of him. "You?" he echoed, as if he hadn't heard it right. His ears burned hot. Hell. He heard it right.
Eren's scent pressed in closer, trembling but steady, wrapping around him in a way that made Adriel's pulse spike. Heat climbed up his neck, his instincts roaring—mark, bond, claim.
He shot to his feet so fast the chair scraped against the floor. "You can't just—say things like that," he muttered, running a hand down his face. His other hand clenched at his side, white-knuckled with restraint.
"Why not?" Eren asked softly, tilting his head. His lips curved—half shy, half teasing.
Adriel groaned under his breath, turning away like the wall might save him. "Because I'm hanging on by a damn thread here, Red. You think it's easy keeping my hands off you when you smell like that?"
He regretted it the second it left his mouth.
Eren's brows shot up. "Smell like what?"
Adriel froze, realizing what he'd just admitted. He shoved both hands through his hair, growling low. "Forget it. Just—eat your food before I lose the last ounce of control I have."
But when he risked a glance over his shoulder, Eren was smiling—small, soft, dangerous. Like he'd just won something.
Adriel swore under his breath and grabbed the nearest glass of water, downing it in one gulp. Maybe drowning himself in cold water was the only way to survive the night.
Adriel slammed the empty glass onto the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Eat," he muttered again, voice rough, clipped. Like if he just repeated the word enough times, it would undo what had just slipped out of him.
But Eren wasn't letting it go.
"Smell like what?" he pressed, his tone deceptively innocent. He leaned forward slightly, chin resting on his hand, his eyes glinting with mischief. His own scent shifted, curling playfully in the air—sweet with amusement, teasing, deliberately brushing against Adriel's like a spark.
Adriel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Red…"
"You said it like you meant something," Eren mused, lips curving. "Like I'm… distracting you."
"You are distracting me," Adriel snapped, heat climbing up his neck. He refused to look at him, staring hard at the far wall as if it had personally offended him.
Eren bit his lip, trying not to laugh. His omega scent shimmered, playful and smug, latching onto every crack in Adriel's composure. "You're blushing."
"I am not," Adriel barked, finally turning—only to curse under his breath when he saw the grin on Eren's face. His alpha pheromones spiked, hot and defensive, like a shield trying to smother his own embarrassment.
But Eren only leaned closer, drinking in the rare sight of Adriel Ulrick—the unshakable, untouchable alpha—fighting to keep his composure.
"You're cute when you're like this," Eren whispered, eyes glinting with wicked delight.
Adriel choked. Cute? His jaw worked, fists clenching at his sides. "Red, I swear, if you say one more—"
"Cute," Eren repeated, softer this time, savoring the way Adriel's whole expression faltered—caught between fury, embarrassment, and something far more dangerous.
The air grew heavy again, thick with clashing pheromones—Eren's teasingly sweet, Adriel's sharp and tangled, both colliding in a storm that left neither breathing evenly.
And Eren smiled like he'd just found his new favorite game.