The Bond Burns

Voss pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it without hesitation.

Leah had expected perfect military efficiency—scars from old fights, maybe a bullet wound or two.

What she hadn't expected—was the evidence of what he was.

Every muscle was engineered, lethal, controlled—but beneath the surface, barely visible under the skin, were traces of modification. Thin, pale circuit-like lines mapped over his ribs and forearms, remnants of his genetic enhancement. A soldier wasn't just built in a lab. They were maintained. Upgraded. Adjusted.

And yet—not bonded.

Not even once.

She once had the oppotinity to read his profile. There were over a hundred test all below 0.5% compatibility.

"This is primitive," Voss muttered, eyeing the setup.

Two blood transfer ports. Two veins open. No suppressors. No stabilizers. Just raw biology.

"It's almost like you could do this with a syringe."

Leah rolled up her sleeve, revealing the inside of her wrist, where the needle would connect.

"You could." Her voice was flat. "But you'd die."

Voss exhaled slowly, silver eyes sharp, calculating.

"Then let's not do that."

Leah attached the line to her wrist first, feeling the slow pull as her blood was drawn.

The machine pulsed, humming quietly.

She watched as red filled the chamber—hers, first—before the second port opened.

Voss stepped forward.

For the first time, hesitation.

Just a flicker.

Leah caught it. "You've never done this before."

Voss's jaw ticked. "Not past the first second."

0.5%.

Not enough for even the simplest connection.

She hadn't thought about what that meant.

Alphas weren't supposed to be alone.

They weren't meant to be left unbonded, unbalanced, untethered.

But Kael Orion Voss had been.

For years.

Leah lifted the transfer line.

"Then let's see if you survive the second."

Voss huffed, a sharp, humorless breath. "Encouraging."

But he sat down across from her, rolling his wrist as he took the second line.

A slow, sharp inhale.

Then—

He connected.

The Transfer Began.

Leah felt it first.

The sharp pull, the shift—her blood leaving, his entering.

Her cells recognized him.

His cells—fought back.

A rejection. A clash.

Her breath shook.

Hold.

Don't stop.

Across from her—Voss's body went rigid.

A low growl rattled in his throat, his muscles seizing as his veins reacted.

It was instinct—his body recognizing something foreign, something it wanted to reject.

But rejection meant death.

And Kael Voss did not die.

His fingers clenched against the armrest. His breath came shallow, controlled, forced.

He was fighting it.

She watched his system wage war against itself.

It wouldn't be enough.

Leah pressed her feet against the floor, shifting forward slightly—just enough to close the space between them.

Her golden eyes locked onto his.

"Voss."

A sharp exhale through his teeth. "Holding."

Her lips curled. "Good."

She felt the moment it shifted.

The blood settled.

The burn—dropped.

The rejection—paused.

The system adjusted.

The console flickered:

GENETIC STABILIZATION: 5%— 12%— 41%—

Leah swallowed.

It was working.

Voss exhaled slowly, testing his own breathing, watching her carefully.

"That's it?" His voice was rough. "Just blood?"

Leah huffed a soft laugh, adjusting her grip on the armrest.

"It's never just blood."

She watched his veins shift—the old traces of enhancement reacting, adapting, changing.

The machine pulsed again.

GENETIC STABILIZATION: 76%— 89%— 91.04%

Locked.

A slow hiss of release came from the ports as the system shut down.

The machine stilled.

Leah sat back, heart pounding.

Her veins felt colder. Lighter.

Voss…

Was still breathing.

Still here.

Still alive.

His silver eyes flicked open.

His voice—low, rough, edged with something new.

"That worked."

Leah tilted her head, watching him carefully.

"Yeah. It did."

A beat.

Leah exhaled, feeling the strange stillness settle inside her.

"Told you you'd survive past the first second."

Voss huffed out a rough breath, his silver eyes heavy-lidded, his muscles still taut from the process.

But he was breathing.

He was here.

And so was she.

Leah had heard about bonding.

Had listened to dozens of Omegas talk about it over the years—mated ones, happy ones, settled ones.

They spoke about the certainty. The warmth.

A shift in the world that felt like coming home.

But this?

This didn't feel like that.

It felt like standing at the edge of something vast and dark, looking down and realizing—

She had no idea how deep it went.

Her body wasn't pulling toward him.

It wasn't some magnetic, uncontrollable draw.

It was deeper.

More subtle.

A faint awareness—not inside her, but alongside her.

Like a second pulse beneath her ribs, a heartbeat that wasn't her own.

Voss's heartbeat.

He was watching her.

She knew it before she even lifted her head.

His silver gaze—sharp, dissecting, but not cold.

Not like before.

Before, he had looked at her like a problem.

Now, he looked at her like a question.

Leah licked her lips, feeling how dry they were.

"It's not what I expected."

Her voice sounded smaller than she wanted it to.

Voss's brows pulled together slightly. "What did you expect?"

Leah let out a slow breath.

"More."

More fire.

More force.

More… anything.

All the stories had made it seem like a flood.

Like one second you were alone, and the next you weren't.

Like you'd been pulled into something bigger than yourself.

Like you belonged to someone.

She didn't feel claimed.

She felt…

Anchored.

Like something inside her had latched on, dug in, but wasn't taking.

Just… holding.

Voss shifted, rolling his shoulders back slightly, testing his own body.

His veins had gone still.

The bond wasn't fighting him.

He lifted a hand, pressing his fingers over his pulse, like he could feel the difference in his own blood.

Maybe he could.

Leah swallowed.

"Do you feel anything?"

Voss's gaze flicked to hers.

A long pause.

Then—

"Yes."

She inhaled sharply.

His voice was lower, rougher.

"But not what I thought."

Her throat tightened. "Same."

Silence.

Not heavy.

Not awkward.

Just… new.

The bond wasn't finished.

She could feel that much.

It was like a door had opened, but neither of them had stepped through it yet.

They were standing on either side, waiting.

For what?

She didn't know.

But she had the distinct, unsettling feeling that once one of them moved—

There would be no stepping back.