The alphas had positioned themselves strategically around the room—Stefano in the chair beside the bed, Marco near the door, Matteo by the window. Their presence filled the small space with an intensity that made breathing feel complicated.
“You don’t all need to stay,” I said, pulling the quilt up to my chin in a futile attempt at creating a barrier. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than babysit a recovering omega.”
“This is exactly where we need to be,” Stefano replied, settling more comfortably in his chair like he planned to stay indefinitely. “Your recovery is our priority.”
Uncle Jiro nodded approvingly at this declaration. “Good. He’s been pushing himself too hard for too long. Needs proper rest and supervision.”
Like I’m some kind of flight risk who can’t be trusted to recover without an alpha audience.
When Aunt Akiko returned with a steaming bowl of chicken soup, the sight and smell made my mouth water despite my exhaustion. I managed a few spoonfuls before my eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. The combination of medication, food, and exhaustion was finally catching up with me, my body demanding the rest I’d been fighting against.
“Sleep now,” Stefano said quietly, his hand briefly touching my forehead in a gesture that felt disturbingly tender. “Rest.”
As consciousness began to fade, I was dimly aware of the alphas’ presence still filling the room—their scents, their quiet voices, the weight of their attention. Part of me wondered if they’d still be there when I woke up, if this strange intimacy would continue, or if they’d disappear back into whatever shadows they’d emerged from.
Will I wake up to find them gone? Will this all feel like some fever dream brought on by heat suppressants and exhaustion? Or will they be sitting there, watching me sleep like the predators they are?
The last coherent thought I had before sleep claimed me completely was that I wasn’t sure which outcome I was hoping for.
nine
. . .
Six Months Ago
The barking woke me from a dream I'd been having way too often lately. The kind that left me sweaty, frustrated, and hating myself just a little more each morning.
"What the hell?" I muttered, blinking away the lingering images of strong hands and stern voices calling me a good boy. My body felt uncomfortably warm, the ghost of phantom touches still tingling across my skin where dream-alphas had claimed every inch of me.
I didn't have time to dwell on my increasingly problematic fantasy life because the barking continued—which made absolutely no sense because we didn't have dogs. Unless Aunt Akiko had gone on some kind of spontaneous pet adoption spree while I was sleeping, something was very wrong in my carefully controlled world.
Curiosity dragged me from bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor as I moved to the window. I pulled back the curtain justenough to peek outside without exposing myself to whatever was disturbing my morning routine of regret and repression.
That's when I saw them—Apollo and Zeus, those furry traitors, running joyful circles on the lawn like they owned the place.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was surprised it didn't leave a bruise. There was only one reason those dogs would be here, only one explanation that made my pulse skyrocket and my mouth go instantly dry.
"They wouldn't," I whispered, even as my body responded with embarrassing enthusiasm to the possibility. Heat flooded my cheeks, traveling down my neck to pool low in my belly. "They couldn't possibly be…"
But the evidence was right there on my lawn, four-legged and panting happily in the morning sun.
I glanced down at my sleep clothes—an oversized t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that barely covered anything worth covering. Not exactly appropriate attire for confronting the stars of my most confusing fantasies, but my body was already moving toward the door like it had received orders directly from my omega hindbrain.
"Leo-kun! Breakfast is ready!" Aunt Akiko called from downstairs, blissfully unaware that my personal hell/heaven had apparently reopened for business on our front lawn.
I ignored her, my feet carrying me down the stairs with singular purpose. Every rational thought screamed for me to stop, to put on actual clothes, to prepare myself for whatever was waiting outside. But six months of lying awake at night, touching myself to memories that never quite satisfied no matter how hard I tried, had apparently broken something fundamental in my self-preservation instincts.
"I'll be right back," I called over my shoulder as I blew past Aunt Akiko in the kitchen, barely registering her startled expression.
The morning air hit my bare legs, dew-damp grass cold beneath my feet as I moved across the lawn with single-minded determination. Apollo spotted me immediately, bounding over with Zeus close behind, both dogs circling me with excited whines.
"Traitors," I muttered as they pressed against my legs, tails wagging like we were long-lost friends. "I can't believe you led me to them in that forest. Still haven't forgiven you for that."
Apollo nudged my palm with his wet nose, clearly expecting pets despite my outrage. My fingers betrayed me, scratching behind his ears as Zeus pressed harder against my legs, angling for equal attention.
"This doesn't mean I like you," I informed them as my other hand found Zeus' chin. "This is pure biological conditioning. Dog makes sad eyes, human pets dog. It's practically Pavlovian."
The dogs seemed unconvinced, their tails wagging faster as they began herding me across the lawn toward the gate in the high fence surrounding our property. That small side entrance that represented the boundary between safety and… whatever waited beyond.
