"Hot... Asher... save me..." He sobbed, his voice cracking: "It's so uncomfortable... please..."
The sound of his name, spoken in such a raw, pleading tone, sent a jolt of electricity straight down Asher's spine. It acted like a spark thrown into a warehouse of gasoline that had been leaking for hours.
The Alpha instinct, a primal beast that Asher had honed and controlled through years of discipline and warfare, roared to life. It screamed at him to claim, to possess, to devour the beautiful, fragile creature writhing at his feet.
Asher dropped to one knee, fighting the urge to pin the boy down. Instead, he reached out to scoop Ewan up, intending to put him back on the bed. He grabbed Ewan's trembling shoulders, his grip firm.
But the moment his large, calloused hands made contact with Ewan's scalding skin, a violent reaction occurred.
It wasn't Ewan the ancient soul who reacted, but the body of the original owner. Deep within the neural pathways of this body, there were scars, memories of terror, of abuse, of disgusting Alphas who had brought nothing but pain. The cellular memory of the original Ewan recoiled in sheer terror.
Ewan's body seized up, shrinking away from the touch as if burned. He shook violently, a pitiable conflict playing out in his movements. His hands reached out, wanting to cling to the cool relief Asher offered, yet simultaneously pushed him away in a panic.
"No... don't..." Ewan whimpered, shaking his head frantically: "It hurts... don't hurt me..."
Tears gushed from Ewan's eyes, rolling down his flushed cheeks in continuous streams. He cried silently, his throat too constricted to scream, letting the salty tears soak into the fabric of Asher's collar. The contradiction was tearing him apart. One half of him, the biological Omega in heat, was desperate for the Alpha's touch to soothe the ache. The other half, the trauma etched into his very DNA, was terrified of the invasion.
That sight, the tears, the trembling, the pure fear in those misted eyes, acted like a bucket of ice water on Asher's heated desire. His heart clenched painfully.
He suddenly remembered the story Ewan had told him when he first woke up in this house. The story of a forced marriage, of being sold off to an old man old enough to be his father, of the abuse and the escape. It wasn't just a story, it was the reason this boy was reacting with such visceral fear. The person in front of him wasn't rejecting him out of malice. He was rejecting the memory of pain.
"Ewan." Asher said, his voice dropping an octave, rumbling deep in his chest: "Look at me. It's me. It's Asher."
He kept his hands steady on Ewan's shoulders, refusing to let go but refusing to force him closer: "I am not that old bastard. I am not him. I won't hurt you."
He leaned in close, whispering the words directly into Ewan's ear. His voice was hoarse, strained with the immense effort of holding back his own instincts, but it was gentle.
The pheromones in the room seemed to respond to the shift in mood. The scent of Champagne Roses became vibrant, almost alive. It swirled around them, reaching out with invisible tendrils to entwine with Asher's own scent.
Asher's pheromones leaked out in response to the distress, the deep, rich aroma of premium Black Tea. It was a dark, calming, yet potent scent. The Roses and the Black Tea collided and mingled in the air, creating a heady, intoxicating blend that was both chaotic and perfectly harmonious. The rose wanted to steep in the tea; the tea wanted to absorb the rose.
Asher felt the veins in his temples throbbing. His blood rushed through his ears like a roaring river. His respiration grew heavy and labored. He knew he was standing on a precipice.
He looked down at Ewan, who was still whimpering, trapped between desire and terror. Asher realized with a sinking feeling that mere medicine wouldn't work anymore. The heat was too intense. If he didn't help Ewan find a release right now, the sheer spike in body temperature would cook his internal organs. The neural pathways could be fried, leaving the boy with permanent brain damage.
There was no other choice. Logic and morality had to bend to the necessity of survival.
Asher Ryder scooped Ewan up into his arms, lifting the slender youth as easily as if he were made of paper. He did not leave the room. Instead, he carried the trembling Omega over to the bed and sat down on the edge, keeping Ewan securely nestled within the protective cradle of his embrace.
The atmosphere in the small, dimly lit room was thick with tension and the cloying, intoxicating scent of roses. The flickering oil lamp cast long, dancing shadows against the wooden walls, painting the scene in hues of warm amber and deep obsidian. Asher's hands, large and rough from years of gripping hunting knives and tilling the unforgiving soil of Anvia, now moved with a surprising, almost reverent delicacy. His fingers, usually so steady, trembled slightly as he began to peel away the layers of clothing that separated him from the heat radiating off the boy in his arms.
He stripped away the thin, sweat-soaked shirt that clung to Ewan's frame. Under the dim, wavering light, Ewan's skin was revealed. It was a flawless expanse of porcelain white, glowing with a faint, feverish sheen. To the eye, he looked as cool and smooth as high-grade ceramic, but to the touch, he was burning. It was as if a fire had been lit beneath his skin, turning his blood into liquid magma.
Ewan continued to weep, the sound a continuous, broken melody of distress. He buried his face deep into the solid wall of Asher's chest, seeking to hide his shame in the fabric of the Alpha's tunic. His small, rosy lips clamped tightly onto the Alpha's muscular shoulder, stifling the humiliating whimpers and moans that threatened to escape his throat.
"Don't be afraid." Asher murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against Ewan's ear: "I won't hurt you. I promise."
Asher's hand drifted lower, moving past the curve of the waist to touch the most private, vulnerable part of the Omega. The area was already drenched, slick with the natural lubricants produced by the heat cycle. The biological imperative of the Omega body had betrayed Ewan's stoic soul completely, preparing him for a mating that his mind had not consented to.
At the contact, Ewan jolted violently as if electrocuted. His long, slender legs instinctively clamped together, trapping Asher's hand, while his sobbing intensified into choked, ragged gasps. It was a torture of duality. The ancient, dignified soul that had existed for ten thousand years felt a profound sense of violation and shame, warring against the primitive, instinct-driven desires of the biological vessel he now inhabited. The conflict tore at him, inflicting agony that was as much spiritual as it was physical.
Asher remained patient, a rock in the middle of Ewan's emotional storm. He used his long, calloused fingers to gently soothe the oversensitive nerves. He moved with a slow, rhythmic cadence, not rushing to take, but giving. He sought to alleviate the pressure that had built up in the boy's lower abdomen, to release the tension that had turned Ewan's muscles rigid.