Noah wasn't running.
That would imply he thought he had a chance to escape.
No—Noah was pacing, heart hammering, pulse erratic, fingers still tracing the bite on his neck.
He had spent all night feeling it. Feeling Theron's mark. Feeling the weight of what they had done.
The bond wasn't just some abstract, distant thing anymore.
It was in his bones. In his skin. In the heat that wouldn't fade no matter how many cold showers he took.
And Theron?
The Alpha was watching him like he was prey.
Noah swallowed hard, avoiding the golden eyes that tracked his every move.
"I told you," Noah muttered, arms crossing over his chest, trying to create space. "This doesn't change anything."
Theron let out a soft, dangerous chuckle.
"Oh, omega," he murmured, voice silk and steel, dark and amused. "You keep saying that like it'll make it true."
Noah's jaw tightened.
"I'm not yours."
The amusement vanished.
In one fluid, predatory motion, Theron was in front of him, too close, too warm, too much.
Noah took a step back—only for Theron to follow.
Step for step.
Until Noah's back hit the wall.
Shit.
Theron's hands came up, caging him in, his body radiating heat, dominance, possession.
"You're not mine?" Theron asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
Noah clenched his jaw, refusing to let himself sink into the warmth, refusing to acknowledge the way his body wanted to melt into it.
"Then why," Theron continued, tilting his head, inhaling deep, "do you still smell like me?"
Noah's breath hitched.
Theron's lips curled.
"That's the thing about marks, omega," he murmured, reaching up, fingers grazing the fresh bite, making Noah shudder.
"They don't just fade."
A warm, wet tongue flicked against the mark—just a taste—before sharp teeth scraped over it.
Noah gasped.
His body betrayed him.
His knees weakened, his head tipped instinctively to give Theron more access.
The Alpha growled.
"That's right," Theron rumbled, voice thick with satisfaction. "You can fight it all you want, but your body? It already knows who it belongs to."
Noah hated how true it was.
How the bond thrummed between them, how the heat twisted low in his stomach, how his hands itched to grab onto Theron's shoulders and pull him closer.
But he wasn't giving in.
Not yet.
Noah forced himself to breathe, to ignore the way his skin burned where Theron touched him.
"Your bond doesn't own me," he rasped, ignoring the shameless need in his voice.
Theron pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, something wicked and dark and knowing in his gaze.
"No," he murmured, his lips brushing against Noah's jaw, his breath hot against his ear.
"But I will."
Noah barely had time to process that before Theron kissed him.
Not soft. Not hesitant. Not careful.
Deep. Rough. Punishing.
Noah's control snapped.
He fisted Theron's shirt, dragging him in, letting the heat consume them, letting the bond tighten around them like a vice.
Because Theron was right.
No matter how much Noah fought it—
Theron was going to own him.
And deep down?
Noah already wanted him to.