The Power of Pheromones

Asahin floated between the surface and the depths of unconsciousness, his mind battered by relentless waves of fear. He couldn't smell the pheromones saturating the air, but he could feel them. Every cell in his body seemed to recoil from the invisible assault, muscles locking up, heart hammering as if trying to escape the cage of his ribs. The sensation was primal and consuming, as though something ancient and wrong was trying to crawl inside his skin and make a home there.

This was new. Terrifyingly new.

He had endured pain before — the sharp sting of broken bones, the dull ache of bruises that refused to fade — but this was different. This was fear woven into his bones, fear planted inside his flesh. His mind twisted beneath it, trapped in a suffocating dark fog. He drifted there, caught in limbo, until the darkness began to bleed into fragmented memories.

They weren't his.

Visions bloomed behind his closed eyes — raw, painful flashes of the original Asahin's life. He saw trembling hands clasped together in submission. A voice — cold and low — murmuring threats, promising punishment for disobedience. A hand brushing through pale hair with chilling affection before twisting and yanking cruelly. The sound of his own breath hitching in panic. And then the shattering emptiness that followed.

It began after the original Asahin woke from his coma. The torture had been subtle at first — whispered commands, veiled threats — but it escalated rapidly once Kaylen returned. That was when Tarya had started using pheromones to control him. Frequently. 

Even though Asahin couldn't sense them, his body could. And his body betrayed him every time.

The original Asahin had been broken down so thoroughly that obedience became reflexive. Even when the orders were absurd or dangerous, he obeyed. It wasn't devotion — it was survival. Fear of punishment. Fear of what would happen if he resisted. Tarya had taught him that defiance was costly, and the original Asahin had learned that lesson well.

Now Asahin understood the strange, erratic behavior that the novel had so cruelly twisted. The story had portrayed the original Asahin as a jealous villain, consumed by obsession and bitterness. But that was a lie. A mask over the truth.

The truth was far worse.

If Asahin had received a full, clean transfer of memories instead of these ragged and fractured glimpses, maybe he would have known. Maybe he would have realized how dangerous Tarya was from the beginning and run. He might have escaped before it was too late. But now, escaping felt very difficult. The web was too tight around him.

Asahin finally understood why the original Asahin had gone to Kaylen for help. It wasn't about love — it was desperation. He had no one else. And maybe — just maybe — if Kaylen, who supposedly hated him the most, had asked the Valmoors to send Asahin away, Tarya might have let him go without suspicion.

Tarya had been using Asahin for a long time — to elevate her son's status and to make Kaylen despise Asahin…. The reason why was still unclear. Darrien could have had Kaylen without turning Asahin into a complete lunatic. Why then?

Asahin wasn't sure how much time had passed when rough hands seized him beneath his arms and dragged him upright. He was barely conscious, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. He heard voices — distant and blurred — but couldn't grasp the words. His head lolled against his chest.

Suddenly, cold water slammed down on him, shocking him awake. He gasped, his body jolting violently. His head snapped back, vision reeling. He choked on the water streaming down his face, struggling to catch his breath.

"Wake up." A rough hand slapped his cheek, hard enough to sting.

Asahin groaned. His violet eyes blinked open, though his vision was still bleary. His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He saw the outline of a figure standing over him, dark and broad. Water dripped down his pale hair, trickling over his trembling lips.

"Wake the hell up. The lady's waiting."

The voice was sharp. Commanding.

Asahin's gaze focused slowly. The face above him sharpened — a guard. Abel. He was one of Tarya's most trusted enforcers. A dangerous man with cold, dark eyes and an expression as hard as stone.

Abel stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he saw something in Asahin's face that surprised him. But the moment passed, and his expression hardened again. He reached down and yanked Asahin to his feet.

Asahin's legs buckled instantly, and he crumpled. Abel caught him roughly under the arms and hauled him upright again.

"He's not going to make it like this," another guard muttered. Saylon.

"Go ask the lady if we should drag him out," Abel replied, his tone flat.

Saylon left the room and returned a moment later. "She said to take him to the table."

Asahin was half-carried, half-dragged to the round table in his bedroom. His legs nearly gave out again when they dropped him into a chair across from Tarya.

The table was set. Scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes, croissants, butter, marmalade — and two drinks, a glass of milk and one of orange juice. The sight of food made his stomach turn. From the fragments of memories he'd received, he knew exactly why the food was there.

Tarya wasn't feeding him out of kindness.

"Eat," Tarya said coldly.

Asahin's gaze lifted slowly to meet hers. Her brown eyes were like polished glass — smooth and empty. A cruel smile curled her lips.

"No." Asahin replied with defiance. 

Tarya's smile deepened. She gestured toward the guards.

Abel wrenched Asahin's arms behind his back, holding him in place. Saylon stepped forward, grabbed a croissant, and forced it into Asahin's mouth. He gagged and coughed, the buttery sweetness mixing with the bitterness of bile. He tried to twist away, but Abel's grip was iron.

They forced him to swallow. Forced him to eat.

When they finally released him, Asahin was shaking, coughing raggedly.

"Now," Tarya said, resting her chin on her hand, "you're going to start answering some questions."

Asahin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Ask," he hissed.

Tarya's smile sharpened. "Where and why did you meet Kaylen Morrison?"

"It was by accident," Asahin replied flatly. "I was walking through the city. We crossed paths."

"By accident," Tarya echoed, her tone dripping with disbelief. "And yet you were drenched in his pheromones afterward. Strange, isn't it?"

"I don't know why," Asahin said. His voice was tight. "I can't feel them. Maybe you should ask Kaylen."

Tarya's gaze darkened. Her smile faded. "Wrong answer."

A crushing wave of nausea slammed through him. His insides twisted violently. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as his vision swam. His throat burned. He hit the floor hard, knees striking the marble tiles as he retched.

"Disgusting," Tarya said. "Where and why did you and Kaylen Morrison meet?" she asked again. 

Asahin's whole body was shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain control.

"I already told you,"Asahin answered, heaving. 

 Tarya clicked her tongue, clearly displeased with the answer, though she didn't seem inclined to press the issue further.

"Who gave you the new phone?" Tarya's voice was sharp.

"No one," Asahin forced out. "I bought it."

"But Kaylen gave you his number. Why?"

Tarya's voice was sharp, slicing through the pounding haze in Asahin's head. He could feel her gaze drilling into him, cold and calculating, waiting for a slip — a weakness. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, and the taste of bile lingered in his mouth. His throat burned from being force-fed, his stomach twisting violently. He needed to think — fast.

"I… I pestered him to give it to me," Asahin mumbled, his voice barely steady."I said I'd… make a scene if he didn't."

Tarya's expression remained impassive, but Asahin could sense the slight tension in the air. His pulse thundered in his ears, making it harder to think clearly. He forced himself to keep going, layering more desperation into his tone.

"Maybe… maybe he tried to chase me off with pheromones afterward," he added, swallowing against the nausea creeping up his throat. His hands trembled as he forced the words out. "That's… why I was covered in them."

It was a weak explanation. He knew it. And so did Tarya.

Her dark eyes narrowed, her lips curling at the edges as if tasting the lie on her tongue.

"And yet," Tarya said slowly, her voice laced with quiet malice, "you didn't look sick to me."

"If Kaylen had truly meant to use pheromones to drive you away," Tarya continued, "you would have collapsed on the spot. You would have been writhing on the floor. But you even walked back home on your own two feet."

"I… I don't know," Asahin murmured, his voice thin and fragile. He could feel himself unraveling, the fog thickening in his mind. His limbs felt heavy, his breathing shallow. He fought to stay upright, his hands curling against the cold floor beneath him.

From their conversation, Asahin could tell that Tarya had no idea he had spent the night out. She thought that he had only been missing for a few hours. Asahin didn't want to imagine what she would have done to him if she knew he had spent the night at Kaylen's house.

Asahin had discovered through his memories that Tarya didn't keep a close watch on the east annex because the original Asahin was too terrified to leave the premises. He was pretty sure things would change from now on. He would be surveilled constantly.

Tarya stood up. Asahin barely registered it through the haze in his mind. His head dipped forward, breaths ragged.

Tarya's gaze slid down to him with thinly veiled contempt. She wrinkled her nose, her mouth twisting as though the sight of him offended her.

"How utterly disgusting you are," she said, her voice venomous.

Before Asahin could react, her heel dug sharply into his shoulder. Pain shot through him, and his weakened body gave out beneath the pressure. He crumpled sideways, hitting the cold floor with a dull thud.

His breathing slowed as his mind drifted towards the dark again. He welcomed it. The cold, empty relief of unconsciousness. He felt himself slipping under, and this time, he didn't fight it.