I switch to the heavy artillery. I pound my fist against the wood, the sound echoing in the hallway.
"Sihwan!" I shout. "Open the damn door. I know you're in there so don't bother pretending you're not home."
Silence.
"I'm not leaving, hyung," I warn, leaning closer to the wood. "I will sit out here all day. I will order pizza to your hallway. I will start critiquing your interior design choices loudly enough for the neighbors to hear."
I raise my fist to hammer on the door again, but the lock clicks.
It’s a frantic, clumsy sound. The latch disengages, and the door is ripped open from the inside.
"What the f—"
I take a step back, the insult dying in my throat.
Sihwan stands in the doorway, and he looks like a natural disaster.
The pristine, gelled hair is gone, replaced by a damp, matted mess sticking to his forehead. He’s shirtless, his skin flushed a violent, feverish red, slick with sweat that tracks down the definition of his chest and soaks the waistband of his low-hanging gray sweatpants. His eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated so far the iris is just a thin ring of brown, and he’s panting like he just sprinted a 5k.
He’s trembling. Visibly vibrating with tension.
"Whoa," I breathe, my hands coming up instinctively. "You look..."
Wrecked.He looks absolutely wrecked.
Then the air from the apartment hits me.
It’s not a smell; it’s a shockwave. It slams into me, heavy and suffocating. The scent of Spiced Rum is there, but it’s been boiled down to a thick, syrupy concentrate, mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of aggression and something darker. Musk. Heat.Need.
My heart stutters, then kicks into a gallop that hurts my ribs.
My own scent flares in response, unbidden and violent. The winter chill I usually keep locked down explodes out of me, rising to meet his heat. My mouth goes dry, saliva flooding my tongue a second later.
It’s impossible. He’s an Alpha. I’m an Alpha. This reaction shouldn't exist. But my body doesn't care about biology textbooks. My body recognizes the scent, recognizes the distress, and screamsMate.
I stare at him, the realization hitting me with the force of a freight train.
"Are you in fucking rut?" I choke out.
Sihwan doesn't answer. He lets out a low, broken growl, his hand shooting out faster than I can track.
He grabs a fistful of my shirt, his grip bruising, and yanks.
I stumble forward, crossing the threshold, and he slams the door shut behind us.
Chapter Twelve
Sihwan
My apartment looks like a cave. A very expensive, high-rise cave where my social life and dignity have gone to die.
I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours in a pair of sweatpants, eating ice cream out of the carton and staring at the wall. Seungchan has called me twenty times. I’ve ignored every single one. What am I supposed to say?“Hey, sorry I bailed on karaoke, I was busy having a biological meltdown because the freshman I tried to bully accidentally claimed my soul.”
Yeah, that’ll go over great in the group chat.
I drag myself off the couch, kicking aside an empty water bottle, and sit back down at my desk. My laptop screen glows with the same depressing search results I’ve been staring at since Saturday night.
How to break a mating bond.
