“Easy, easy—”
“I’m sorry.” Cass’s voice came out thin, desperate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just need to—”
The scent hit him mid-sentence and stole the rest of his words. Storm winds and ozone. Clean and electric and achingly powerful. It wasn’t the same as Riot’s scent—didn’t make his brain feel wrapped in warm honey or make his body surge with that desperate, hungry ache. But it wasgood. It wassafe. It made something deep in Cass’s chest unclench in a way he’d never experienced before.
He didn’t make a conscious decision to move closer. His body just... did it. Leaning into Orion’s space, pressing his nose against the curve of the other Omega’s neck where the scent was strongest and breathing deep. Something in him settled at the contact. Some of the fever-wrong-empty feeling eased as he inhaled that storm-and-lightning smell, like it was grounding. Like when he held hands with Honey when they were kids.
“You smell like rainy weather,” Cass murmured against Orion’s neck. “The good kind. Like right before a storm breaks, when everything feels... clean.”
“Um,” Orion said, his whole body going rigid. “What are you—”
Cass nuzzled closer, rubbing his cheek against Orion’s shoulder without quite meaning to. His body was doing things again—things he couldn’t control, things that felt necessary even though his brain couldn’t explain why.
“Dante.” Orion’s voice rose into a higher register. “Dante, he’s—what is he—”
“He’s scenting you.”
Dante’s voice had dropped an octave. When Cass glanced up, still pressed against Orion’s shoulder, he found the Alpha watching them with undisguised interest. Those gray eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide, and he’d tilted his head like he was trying to memorize every angle.
“It’s a comfort behavior,” Dante continued. “During heats or high stress, Omegas seek out other Omegas for... this. Scent sharing. Grounding.” A slow smile curved his lips. “I used to watch from the observation deck at the Ateliers. Before heats, the Omegas would all pile together. Grooming each other. Scenting. Touchingeverywhere.” He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on where Cass was pressed against Orion. “It was... educational.”
“You’re such a creep,” Orion snapped. His arms had finally moved, settling awkwardly around Cass’s back. “Iknowwhat Omega scenting is. I’ve just never—it’s not something I—”
“He’s clearly having a difficult time, just let him.” Dante’s grin was entirely too pleased. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.” The grin softened slightly. “Hold him tighter. He’s shaking.”
Orion’s arms tightened around Cass, less awkward now, more protective. The scent intensified with the closeness, and Cass felt some of the desperate edge ease from his breathing.
“You must not be from somewhere with cuddling,” Cass said slowly, trying to make sense of what they were saying. He wasn’t sure what an Atelier was, but if Orion was like Riot, maybe he was originally from Gensyn territory? “Riot was weird about cuddling too. It’s okay.”
“You cuddled…with Riot?” Orion asked, sounding confused. “How are you still…alive?”
The words hit something raw in Cass’s chest, because even as Orion’s scent helped ease some of the panic, Cass was achingly aware of what was missing.Whowas missing. The hollow ache that had been temporarily quieted roared back, and Cass felt his body clench around nothing—desperate, empty,wanting. Orion’s arms were kind, but they weren’t the arms he needed.
“Where’s Riot?” he asked again, pulling back to look at Orion’s face. “Please. I need to see him.”
“Cass, he’s a Berserker. A modified Berserker. You know what that means, right? The episodes, the—”
“He’s never hurt me.” It came out simple and certain, because it was simple and certain. Riot had only ever been gentle with him, even when his eyes turned gold and he looked frustrated, he’d always touch Cass like he was something precious. “Please, I want to see him.”
“Cass—” Dante began.
Another cramp seized him, and this time he couldn’t hide the sob that escaped. The pain was getting worse, not better. The emptiness was becoming unbearable—a physical ache, a void demanding to be filled. Fresh slick leaked between his thighs, and the shame of it mixed with the agony until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
But underneath all of it, cutting through like a beacon—
Strawberries and cream.
“I can smell him,” Cass gasped. “He’s here. He’s—”
He was moving before anyone could stop him, following that thread of scent like a lifeline. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else—someone operating on pure instinct, drawn forward by something that bypassed rational thought entirely.
“Cass, wait—”
He was already at the door, yanking it open. A short hallway. The strawberry scent was stronger here, mixed with other smells—unfamiliar pheromones, something sweet and chemical that made his nose wrinkle.Hot chocolate. Apples. Cordite.
