Ewan peeked into the basket. Even in the dim light, the jar of honey glowed with a golden amber hue, and the packet of pollen emitted a faint, sweet floral fragrance. Ewan's eyes lit up like lightbulbs.
"Mossy! Look! Dinner is here!" He cheered internally.
Deep inside Ewan's spiritual space, the sleeping green Slime shot awake, vibrating and cheering with telepathic noise. However, Ewan was far too drained to materialize him right now.
"Let's get you inside." Asher muttered.
He half-carried, half-walked Ewan into the house. Initially, the man intended to deposit Ewan on the sofa in the living room. But when the light of the room revealed Ewan's face, chalk-white, lips pale, and hair plastered to his forehead with cold sweat, Asher let out a heavy sigh. He changed course, guiding Ewan straight into the bedroom.
The bedroom was a smaller, more enclosed space. Immediately, the intimacy of the situation intensified. The air circulation was lower, meaning the concentration of scents was higher.
Asher lowered Ewan onto the edge of the bed. Ewan braced his hands against the mattress, gasping for air. His breathing was ragged, disjointed, like a man who had just been pulled from drowning in deep water.
The reality of his condition was catching up to him. Draining his Mental Strength to zero to nourish the dead soil had caused his body's final line of defense to crumble. The herbal suppressants he had taken that morning had been metabolized and burned away hours ago.
Now, he was just an Omega in the middle of a heat cycle, physically depleted, spiritually empty, and biologically starving. His body was screaming for energy, for comfort, for... something to fill the void.
"Sit there. Don't move." Asher ordered gently: "I'm going to get a warm towel to wipe your face. You're soaked in cold sweat."
Asher let go of Ewan's shoulders and turned to leave the room.
But the moment he moved, the air in the room shifted. A new scent tore through the atmosphere, sharp and jagged.
It was the smell of blood.
It was a minor injury, a shallow scratch on Asher's muscular forearm, likely from a thorn or a sharp branch he had brushed against in the deep woods. To a normal person, or even a Beta, it would have been unnoticeable.
But to Ewan, in his current state, it was like someone had thrown a lit match into a barrel of gunpowder.
Alpha blood.
It wasn't just blood. It was a carrier for the most primal, concentrated form of pheromones. The scent radiating from an Alpha's open wound was wild, unrefined, and incredibly potent, a hundred times stronger than the controlled scent released from the scent glands. It was the smell of a predator, of vitality, of raw, unfiltered dominance.
Ewan's eyes, which had been drooping with fatigue, snapped open. His pupils dilated rapidly, swallowing the irises until his eyes looked like dark pools.
His nostrils flared, twitching as he inhaled sharply. He dragged the air into his lungs, greedy for that metallic, sweet, iron-laced scent. It triggered a biological short-circuit in his brain. The logic of a civilized human was instantly overridden by the desperate, clawing instinct of an Omega in heat.
"Wait..."
Ewan's voice was a wrecked rasp, trembling with a sudden, terrifying hunger.
His slender hand shot out. His fingers, pale and shaking, clamped around Asher's rough, tanned wrist. He yanked back.
In reality, the physical strength of an Omega in heat was pathetic. It was soft, like a kitten pawing at a tiger. But Asher, sensing the contact, froze. Afraid that continuing to walk away would drag Ewan off the bed or hurt his arm, Asher instinctively yielded to the force.
He stopped and turned back, looking down at the hand gripping his wrist: "Ewan?"
But Ewan wasn't looking at his face. Ewan was staring at the bead of red blood welling up on his forearm, his breath hitching in his throat.
The spilled blood of a dominant Alpha was, in truth, one of the most overwhelmingly potent aphrodisiacs known to the history of their biology. It acted as a direct, chemical stimulant to an Omega currently suffering through the throes of their estrus cycle. It was undeniable that the injury sustained by the man standing before him was not catastrophic. In fact, it was quite minor, with only a few meager streaks of crimson fluid weeping slowly from the broken skin. And yet, despite the superficial nature of the wound, the mere scent of it was enough to make Ewan feel as though the earth were tilting beneath his feet, his equilibrium shattered in an instant. His fingers clamped down tight around Asher Ryder's hand, his grip desperate and unyielding. It felt as though an eternity passed, filled with the chaotic drumming of his own heart, before he could summon enough willpower to stabilize his trembling senses.
"What is it? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?" Asher Ryder leaned down, his deep voice laced with palpable concern as he scrutinized the smaller man's face.
Ewan shook his head in a jerky motion, unable to trust his voice just yet. Instead, he gestured frantically for the Alpha to step aside. Although Asher didn't quite comprehend the sudden dismissal or the reason behind the urgent request, he obediently shifted to the side to clear the path. He watched with a furrowed brow as the weakened Omega forced himself upright, swaying precariously like a reed in the wind as he took a few unsteady steps away.
"Where do you think you are going?" Asher hurriedly reached out to steady him, stopping the other man in his tracks. Given Ewan's current fragile constitution, he dared not let the person wander off aimlessly without supervision.
"I want to go... I need to take a bath for a moment." Ewan replied, his voice coming out significantly thinner and more breathless than usual. It was glaringly obvious, even to Ewan, that his body was betraying him, his physical state rapidly deteriorating. He quickly waved Asher away, a desperate edge to his movements as he tried to put distance between them: "Just... help me with the... medicine..."
It was at that precise moment that Asher Ryder finally detected that the pheromones radiating from Ewan were slightly off-kilter. The scent of Champagne Roses had grown heavier, more intense, creating a compelling, primal urge within the Alpha that was difficult to ignore. Asher hesitated, torn between two urgent needs. He knew he needed to brew the suppressant decoction for Ewan immediately, time was of the essence. However, worry gnawed at him, and the thought of letting Ewan go out to the bathhouse entirely alone filled him with anxiety.