Chapter Text
Jayce could clearly smell wormwood in the air.
And from that scent alone, he knew just how badly he had fucked up this time.
An enraged omega.
His mother had smelled like that maybe twice in his entire life. Both times, Jayce had crossed a line so hard it had left scars. And though his mother was the sweetest woman alive, when that suffocating, heavy scent filled the air, Jayce had been genuinely afraid of her.
“Viktor, you don’t understand,” he began carefully, forcing calm into his voice so he wouldn’t make it worse. “I had to react. He’s—Janna, you have no idea the shit he pulled even as a student. And now it’s probably worse. I’m just sick of how everything always slides off him, how that idiot walks around smug and convinced he’s untouchable—”
“I’m sick of how you walk around smug and convinced you’re untouchable!” Viktor shot back, sharp as broken glass.
Jayce shut up mid-sentence.
“You treat people like they’re beneath you,” Viktor continued, eyes blazing. “Like you’re better than everyone in the room and they should be grateful just to breathe the same air as you. Like they should kneel and kiss the fucking ground you walk on.”
“What? No—absolutely not—”
“And you never think before you open your mouth. Not for half a second. The moment you feel even the tiniest flicker of emotion, some rabid animal takes over and suddenly you can’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Viktor… that’s not—”
“Don’t tell me it’s not true,” Viktor snapped. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. What you just did? That’s one example. Another? Your office two weeks ago.”
He folded his arms across his chest, jaw tight.
“You act like this grand CEO, aristocrat, genius scientist—an alpha of all alphas—and all it takes is some asshole who, what? Once got a better grade than you in first-year philosophy? That’s all it takes for you to completely lose your fucking mind.”
Jayce looked away.
Because he was talking to you, he thought.
“I can’t believe this,” Viktor went on, voice dropping colder. “You’re incredibly lucky I was the only one—besides Dimitri—who witnessed that little performance. Maybe I can still fix it. Though frankly, I’m not sure I even want to. Maybe losing a few million would finally knock some sense into you.”
“Viktor, I’m sorry—” Jayce reached for him instinctively, like he could smooth this over with a touch.
“Don’t touch me,” Viktor growled. The scent of wormwood spiked, bitter and suffocating. “You’re an arrogant bastard, Jayce. The biggest one I’ve ever met. The only reason I’m even considering cleaning up your mess is because I value my team, and I’d hate to see months of their work go to hell because their boss is an idiot.”
He stepped back, turning away.
“Where are you going?” Jayce asked quietly.
“To find Dimitri. To talk to him. And then I’ll speak to Mel, so she’s not blindsided if my efforts fail and we end up with a negative report.”
“Viktor, don’t go to him. Please—”
“Fuck off, Jayce. I’m done with you tonight.” Final.
Jayce stood there in the corridor, watching Viktor disappear back through the ballroom doors.
So much for improving their professional relationship.
Fucking Dimitri. He always had to ruin everything.
…Or maybe it wasn’t Dimitri? The quiet, irritating voice in his head refused to shut up.
Jayce was impulsive, yes — even for an alpha. He knew that. It had landed him in trouble more times than he could count. But he’d always managed to wriggle out of it. Charm. Good looks. Intelligence. Luck.
Gods.
Was Viktor right? Was he really that fucking full of himself? Was he always that much of a prick?
But in his defense—how the hell was he supposed to react when Viktor looked like that tonight?
Did he even look in a mirror before leaving the house?
That perfectly tailored black suit hugging his narrow frame, making his porcelain skin almost glow under the lights. The loose knot of hair at his nape, strands slipping free—Jayce had wanted to fist his hand into it on sight. And was that makeup?
And the jacket—Janna—the way it dipped at the back, exposing smooth skin, the elegant line of his spine, that slim waist Jayce had fantasized about more times than he cared to admit.
How was he supposed to just stand there and let another alpha put his hands on his omega?
…Your omega? The voice again.
No.
He wasn’t Jayce’s omega.
He was just an omega.
An employee.
And Jayce took care of his employees. All of them. If it had been Elora—Mel’s secretary—he would have reacted the same way. Right?
Who the fuck was he trying to fool…
“Mr. Talis?”
The pleasant voice behind him pulled Jayce from his spiraling thoughts.
He turned and saw the omega he had arrived with.
Right. Him. Jayce had almost forgotten he existed.
Don’t get him wrong — objectively, the boy was flawless. A perfect face. Perfect brown hair. A perfect body. A soft, agreeable scent. There was only one disqualifying flaw.
He wasn’t him, Viktor.
And he was hired.
Jayce didn’t usually pay for sex or company. Why would he? He could get it for free without even trying. But this situation was different. Inviting some omega he’d met at a bar would mean breaking rules he had never broken. A second meeting? Out of the question. Sharing personal details? Absolutely not. That led to complications he couldn’t afford.
He already had one omega from his past walk back into his life, and look how spectacularly that had gone.
The mere fact that Jayce had hired an escort to prove something to him—to provoke what, exactly? Jealousy?—was pathetic enough.
Could he sink any lower?
Probably not.
Which meant he might as well make full use of rock bottom.
“Sorry for leaving you on your own,” he said smoothly, offering the omega one of his practiced, camera-ready smiles. “Work complications.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry beyond them.
“Listen—if I wanted us to slip out of here. Say, to the nearest hotel. How much extra would that cost?” The look he gave made his meaning perfectly clear.
The omega wasn’t naive—he was a professional. He knew exactly what Jayce was asking for.
“The amount you’ve already paid covers the full extent of my services, Mr. Talis,” the omega replied sweetly. “We pride ourselves on ensuring complete client satisfaction.”
“Excellent.”
That night, Jayce made use of the full extent of those services more than once.
He knew the omega was pretending—pleasure, desire, climax. The movements were practiced, precise. The moans carefully measured—not too quiet, not too loud—engineered to stroke the fragile ego of the man footing the bill. It was fine.
Because Jayce was pretending too.
Pretending he needed to keep him on his back because his right leg would hurt if he stayed in a presenting position too long.
Pretending he needed to slide a pillow beneath the boy’s knee when he rode him, for “stability.”
Pretending the eyes beneath him were gold, not blue.
Pretending the scent in the room was vanilla, orange blossom, and sweet milk.
Not roses and citrus.
And if he came with “Viktor” on his lips, the escort was professional enough not to comment.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
On Monday, Jayce meant to apologize. He really did. He wanted to go down to the first floor, find Viktor, and talk to him like a grown man. But every time he imagined stepping into the lab and looking him in the eye, he froze in his chair. Completely paralyzed.
On Tuesday, he tried again. He would explain. Fix it. Clear the air.
Except it was Mel’s first day back after the weekend. She cornered him before he had even fully closed the door to his office.
Jayce was fairly certain the entire building heard her shouting. She tore into him with such sustained fury that by the end of it she’d practically lost her voice. Jayce had never felt so small—or so thoroughly ashamed.
The only positive outcome was that Mel informed him there was still a slim chance the project could be salvaged — thanks to Viktor.
In return, Jayce wasn’t to so much as look in Dimitri’s direction.
Happily.
He didn’t make it down to the labs that day either.
Wednesday came. Jayce rode the elevator down to the first floor.
He paced the corridor. Back and forth. He peeked into one lab. No Viktor. Another. Empty. A third—two of Viktor’s team members were inside, heads bent over equipment, but no sign of their lead.
In the fourth lab, Powder was working. She spotted Jayce’s head appearing cautiously around the doorframe. The moment she opened her mouth, he bolted. Back to his office.
Wednesday: also a failure.
By Thursday, he felt like absolute shit.
He knew he was dragging this out. Avoiding it wasn’t helping. Viktor had time to think too. Plenty of time to replay Saturday in his head. And in Viktor’s version of events, Jayce was probably an even bigger asshole than he already knew himself to be.
He went down again.
And again—like an idiot—he started prowling the hallway, peering into each lab one by one, scanning for brown hair and a cane.
He probably looked like a thief calculating angles and exit routes, just in case someone left a laptop unattended for more than three seconds.
“Boss, I don’t want to limit your freedom in your own company,” a hoarse voice drawled behind him, “but the creeping is starting to freak me out. And I speak for most of this floor.”
Jayce jumped.
“Powder! You scared me.”
“Sorry,” the blue-haired beta said, smiling in a way that conveyed absolutely no remorse. “Why have you been skulking around here for two days? Is this some new management technique? Because, just so you know, it’s not inspiring confidence. People are getting jumpy.”
“No!” Jayce said quickly. “No, I’m not monitoring you. I trust all of you. I just—”
Powder leaned against the wall, arms folded, waiting.
“I’m looking for Viktor. Uh. Dr. Reveck,” he corrected awkwardly.
“Ohhh!” she laughed. “You could’ve just said that. Viki’s on leave. Since yesterday. He’ll be back next Wednesday. I’m handling the chaos in his absence. So—what catastrophic issue can I help you solve, boss?”
A week?
Viktor was gone for a week?
How the hell was Jayce supposed to talk to him now? To explain himself?
And more importantly—what was going on that required a full week off?!
A vacation? A trip out of town?
Was he alone? Or was he with someone?
With another alpha? Dimitri?
The thought lodged itself somewhere ugly and sharp beneath Jayce’s ribs.
No. No, that couldn’t be it.
Maybe Viktor was sick. Yes. That made more sense.
It was spring, sure—bright skies, mild air—but spring could be deceptive. Warm sun during the day, cold wind in the evenings. The kind of weather that tricked you into leaving the house without a proper coat and punished you for it later.
It had to be a cold. Or the flu.
Stress could wreck the immune system. And Viktor had every reason to be stressed—new job, high-stakes project and a boss who’d publicly lost his mind.
Yes. That was far more reasonable than… the alternative.
Jayce clung to that explanation like it was oxygen.
“It’s nothing urgent,” Jayce said quickly. “Just something I needed to discuss. It can wait. Yes. It can definitely wait. I’ll, uh—let you get back to work. And, uh, apologize to everyone from me. Work stress-free. Bye.”
He was already walking before Powder could respond.
A week.
How was he supposed to last a week?
It wasn’t like they saw each other daily—but at least Viktor had been there. In the building. If Jayce needed him, he could go downstairs. Talk.
Even if Viktor called him arrogant. Or mediocre in bed.
That was still better than not knowing where he was. Better than not being able to catch that sweet scent in the air.
As he approached the elevator, Jayce noticed an open door to his left.
Locker room.
He pressed the button for the upper floors—then glanced back.
A lab coat hung by the door. V.R.
Jayce looked up and down the hallway.
Empty.
He snatched the coat from the hook and darted into the elevator like he was being chased by some unholy force.
The doors slid shut.
He raised the fabric to his face and inhaled. Vanilla. Still there.
Thank gods it hadn’t faded since Tuesday.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
By Friday, Jayce was on the verge of losing his mind.
He couldn’t believe what was happening to him.
Fine. He had stolen Viktor’s lab coat. Strange, yes—but still within the realm of something he could rationalize.
What he could not rationalize was taking it home. Laying it out on his own bed, his den. Pressing his face into the fabric and breathing in that sweet omega scent while he jerked off again and again and again—so many times it was a miracle he didn’t dehydrate.
Around four in the morning, dazed and wrecked, he fired off a brief email to HR saying he felt unwell and would be taking a personal day.
Then he passed out.
Exhausted. Sticky. In a cooling mess of his own come he hadn’t even bothered to clean up. His face buried in Viktor’s coat like some kind of degenerate.
Which, apparently, he was.
When he woke up, he felt poisoned. Hungover. Like he’d gone on a three-day bender or quit some hard drug cold turkey. His skin itched. His thoughts wouldn’t settle. He was restless and hollow at the same time.
At two in the afternoon, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and nearly had a heart attack.
Two-day stubble. Hair a disaster. Eyes wild.
Gods…
If he didn’t leave the apartment, he was going to spiral.
He needed a familiar face. A kind voice. Someone who wouldn’t call him an arrogant asshole, an idiot, a self-absorbed prick.
He needed his mother.
Jayce pulled himself together enough to look halfway decent, grabbed his keys, and drove out to his childhood home in the quieter suburbs of Piltover.
He could take her to lunch. To a museum. Go for a walk. Anything. Anything to stop thinking.
Only—was she even home? Did she have guests? One of her book club meetings? He probably should have considered that before showing up unannounced.
Still sitting in the car in the driveway, he pulled out his phone and called her.
She answered after a few rings.
“Hello, my dearest. How lovely of you to call,” Ximena said warmly.
“Hi, Mom. So, funny thing—I’m actually outside the house right now. I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere? Dinner? A movie? Whatever you feel like. Are you busy?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry—I can’t. I’m looking after Benji.”
Jayce frowned. “Benji?”
“Oh! I didn’t tell you? He’s the son of a friend of mine. No—wait, I did mention him. The little boy who looks just like you did at that age. Honestly, what are we doing talking on the phone? Come inside, Jayce. You can meet him.”
Jayce opened his mouth to protest—to say pups were not his preferred company, that spending a Friday afternoon with one was not exactly his idea of a mental reset.
But she had already hung up.
He sighed, killed the engine, and stepped out of the car.
A friend’s pup?
Hadn’t his mother said it was some boy from the park?
He must have missed a few chapters. Which, if he was being honest, probably said more about him than about her. How long had he been too busy—too distracted—to notice that his own mother had built a whole new little routine without him?
Maybe the problem wasn’t how quickly they’d bonded. Maybe it was how rarely he called.
“I’m home!” Jayce called as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes.
“In the kitchen, mijo!”
He moved through the hallway and into the cozy living room—more library than sitting area, really—drawn forward by the warm scent of freshly baked cookies.
The first thing he saw in the kitchen was his mother, carefully pulling a large tray of cookies from the oven. Then his gaze shifted to the kitchen table.
A little boy sat there, utterly focused on his task. Tiny hands rolled pieces of dough into careful balls. His brows were furrowed in concentration, his lower lip caught between his teeth like he was conducting a high-stakes experiment.
Okay. He was adorable. There was no denying it. Cute and sweet to the point that just looking at him gave Jayce cavities.
But did he really look like Jayce had as a child, like his mother insisted?
The boy finally formed a perfect little dough ball and set it down proudly. Then he grinned—wide and bright—revealing a gap between his front teeth.
…Okay. Maybe there was something to that.
“Papi! What happened to you? You look like you haven’t slept in three days!” Ximena said in alarm, hurrying over and cupping his face to inspect him from every angle.
Hearing her voice, Benji looked up at the newcomer.
“Not three, but I didn’t sleep well,” Jayce said with a weak smile. “Took the day off, but I didn’t exactly rest.”
“This job and stress will kill you,” Ximena muttered, shaking her head. “Sit down, mijo. The cookies just need to cool a bit. We made polvorones—your favorite.”
She tugged him toward the table.
“Benji, mi cielo, this is my son.”
“Hello, Mr. Papi,” Benji said brightly.
Jayce laughed. Actually laughed. The first real, unforced laugh he’d had in… maybe a week.
“My name isn’t Papi, it’s—”
“Oh, sweet boy picks up new words so quickly,” Ximena said proudly, circling the table and leaning down to kiss Benji’s hair several times. The boy giggled.
“Abuelita, look! I made four balls,” Benji announced, pointing proudly at the counter.
“Excellent job,” she praised, kissing him again.
“I see you’ve grown very close,” Jayce observed with a smile.
His mother only shrugged, clearly pleased with herself.
It was a good scene to watch. Seeing her this happy, in her element, did something warm and steady to his chest.
Still, he had to ask.
“So why is Benji here?”
“Because his mommy is…” Ximena paused and gently covered the boy’s ears. “In heat.”
Ah. That explained a lot.
“And his father?” Jayce asked so quietly she had to read his lips.
She shook her head. Absent.
Poor omega. Poor Benji’s mom.
“Abuelita, can I show Mr. Papi the toys Mommy got me?” Benji asked eagerly.
“Of course, mi bebito. They’re all in the bigger living room, just where you left them this morning. I’ll bring you cookies in a moment.”
Before Jayce could object, a small, warm hand slipped into his. Benji looked up at him with wide golden eyes—
Don’t think about him. You came here not to think about him.
Jayce let himself be led to the living room, slightly hunched the whole way; he was tall even for a grown man, and the boy barely reached his waist.
A long, winding train track was spread across the floor. They sat by the little station.
“Mommy bought this so I wouldn’t be sad at Abuelita’s,” Benji said. “But I love being there. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
“I kinda miss my Mommy. Mommy’s the best ever. When I get scared, I sleep in Mommy’s room, and I get the best hugs.” He stared down at the controller in his hands. “But Abuelita says Mommy’s coming on Sunday morning. Today’s Friday. So it’s just one sleep and then another one. That’s how it works, Mr. Papi.”
“You’re right,” Jayce said gently. He needed to steer the boy’s thoughts away from the sadness, not deepen it. Better to distract him—give him something else to focus on. “So, little soldier, will you show me how this thing works?”
“Yes!”
If Jayce thought he’d been losing his mind over Viktor, then Benji absolutely finished the job.
He was a grown alpha. A CEO. A man with a serious career and a carefully constructed life.
And yet he spent the entire Friday evening playing hide-and-seek, tickling the pup until he nearly wet himself laughing, pretending to be a horse while Benji rode him around the house—pulling his hair to make him go faster or slower.
Jayce ended up completely soaked, not just damp, but dripping, after agreeing to help with bath time. It had quickly turned into a “sea monster attack,” featuring underwater ambushes and tidal waves that drenched half the bathroom. He eventually had to change into a set of old clothes his mother had thankfully kept.
And then, Benji informed Ximena he would absolutely not go to sleep unless “Mr. Papi reads me a story.”
What was Jayce supposed to do?
So he found himself lying on the edge of the guest bed in his childhood home, Benji tucked tightly against his side, following the pictures while Jayce read The Ugly Duckling.
He hadn’t felt this calm in a long time.
He knew an omega’s scent could be soothing—his mother had used that trick on him more than once growing up. But he hadn’t realized how impossibly grounding the scent of a pup could be.
“Mr. Papi?” Benji whispered.
“What is it, little soldier? I thought you were asleep,” Jayce said, pausing right before the ugly duckling was about to become a swan.
“Next time I come to Abuelita’s, can I bring my bike? Will you teach me how to ride it? Mommy tried, but can’t run very fast. And Abuelita can’t either, so I didn’t bring it. I wanna learn so Dylan doesn’t laugh at me at kindergarten.”
“Of course,” Jayce said immediately. “We’ll have you riding in no time. You’ll be the best in your class.”
No little shit was going to laugh at Benji. Over Jayce’s dead body.
“Then I’ll ask Abuelita to call you when I’m here again. I don’t know when that is. On weekends we’re with Mommy at Grandpa’s. And you probably work on weekdays. Like Mommy.” His voice got a little smaller.
“We’ll figure it out,” Jayce said softly. “Don’t worry about that. Now sleep. It’s late, and you need energy to play all day tomorrow, right?”
“Okay… but don’t go until I fall asleep, okay?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Jayce murmured, gently stroking the small arm wrapped around him.
Once Benji was fully asleep, Jayce slipped out and went downstairs.
Ximena was at the kitchen table, bent over a crossword. She looked up over the rim of her glasses as soon as she sensed him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
“So? Pups are the worst, right, Jayce? Absolute plague. I have no idea why anyone chooses that life,” she said sweetly, dripping irony.
Jayce said nothing, only shot her a look and poured himself a glass of juice.
“Would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked after a moment.
“Of course not, mijo. You know this is still your home. Your room is untouched—I just need to make the bed.”
“Thanks.”
The next morning, Jayce wasn’t at breakfast.
He’d left early.
And returned when Benji was already dressed, fed, teeth brushed, watching cartoons in the living room.
Under his arm, he carried a brand-new blue bicycle.