Chapter 45: Help me

Victor's smile returned, slower this time, warmer in a way that made Elias's throat tighten.

"Then teach me," he said quietly, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping until it brushed against Elias's senses like silk. "Show me how it works, Elias."

Elias pushed his gold‑rimmed glasses higher on his nose, like the movement might let him see something else, anything else, besides the man in front of him, weaving that calm, dangerous charm around every word.

"You're…" he began, trying to summon something cutting, something steady.

But before the thought could form, Victor's hands slid to his hips, fingers steady and sure, and pulled.

Elias startled, breath catching as the floor shifted under him, not physically, but in that strange way space feels when someone decides exactly where you should stand. Victor dragged him forward, unhurried, until Elias was standing between his knees.

The world seemed to narrow to the warmth of Victor's body, the quiet hum of power beneath his skin, the low press of crimson eyes looking up through dark lashes, far too steady.

Elias froze, knuckles white where his hands gripped the arms of the chair he'd just vacated, as if letting go might break whatever fragile distance remained.

"You can't just…" His voice came out low, thin, frayed at the edges.

Victor's hands stayed firm on his hips, thumbs brushing faint arcs against the fabric of his shirt, slow and unsettling in their gentleness.

"Careful," Victor murmured, soft enough that Elias felt it more than heard it. "You're close enough now that I might stop asking."

Elias's pulse kicked hard, heat flaring unbidden under his skin.

"You can't…"

"Can't I?" Victor's smile curved, lazy and certain, a faint ember of amusement sparking in his eyes as he leaned in, just enough that Elias felt his breath ghost along the line of his throat.

A shiver slid down Elias's spine before he could stop it. He held his ground, or tried to, fingers tightening in the fabric of his own shirt like he could anchor himself there.

Then it hit, subtle at first, then spreading, a dark, warm current curling through the air around him. Victor's pheromones. Heavy, intimate, threaded through with an intent that made Elias's knees lock in place.

It wasn't violent. That would've been easier. It was slow, patient, the way smoke seeps into every corner of a room, wrapping around him, pressing against his senses until every breath carried Victor's scent deeper into his lungs.

Elias's pulse leapt, sharp and frantic, but his body betrayed him, his shoulders loosened, his weight shifting forward before his mind could catch up. He jerked back half a step, but Victor rose from the chair, his hands on his hips holding him steady, thumbs brushing faint circles, coaxing rather than restraining.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Elias asked, his voice tighter than he intended, the words half a plea and half an accusation.

Victor's smile was faint, crooked, his tone deceptively calm. "I could ask the same thing about you."

He leaned in just enough for his breath to warm the shell of Elias's ear. "I need you… so my head will get quiet again. So I can move this body without breaking it apart."

The words sank into the charged air between them, soft but threaded with something heavier, a confession wrapped in a claim.

Elias's throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to throw something at a wall, but the intimacy of it, of Victor admitting need without flinching, caught him off guard.

"That's not fair," Elias muttered, his hands still gripping Victor's shoulders as though that could keep distance. "You make it sound like I don't get a choice."

Victor's thumbs stilled on his hips, pressing in just slightly, steady and warm. Crimson eyes caught his, unwavering, intent enough to make Elias's breath falter.

"None of us has," Victor murmured, voice low and even, "but we can make it work."

Elias huffed softly, the sound caught between disbelief and a plea for sanity. "At least start with something normal," he said, his tone strained, trying to anchor them both. "Like a date."

Victor hummed, the sound low in his throat, thoughtful, almost indulgent. His gaze roamed over Elias in a way that was far from casual. The recessive omega stood there in a black blouse and navy jeans, both pieces were tailored perfectly to him, to the shape of his shoulders, the line of his waist, and the long frame that looked almost too fragile until you saw the quiet strength in how he held himself.

Victor's breath slowed, the hum fading into silence as he let the thought settle. He had ordered those clothes and now, seeing them on Elias, it was almost unbearable. He wanted to take everything off. 

His hands tightened faintly on Elias's hips to remind him that Victor was still there, still close. His crimson eyes swept over him with quiet precision, lingering just long enough to make heat rise at the back of Elias's neck.

"I could take you on a date," Victor said softly, and though his tone was gentle, the glint in his eyes was anything but. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as though confiding a secret. "But I can't promise I'd make it through dinner without undoing those buttons."

Elias blinked at him, heat creeping up the back of his neck before he could stop it.

"You can't just…" His voice cracked, and he snapped his mouth shut, glare sharpening even as the tips of his ears burned. "Gods, Victor, you can't say things like that and expect me to…"

"To what?" Victor interrupted softly, tilting his head, that slow, maddening smile returning as though Elias's fluster was exactly what he'd been hoping for. His thumbs shifted against Elias's hips again, brushing light circles, coaxing rather than holding. "Blame me? Be offended? Or maybe… blush like that?"

"I am not…" Elias began, but the words tangled, his pulse tripping over itself. He shoved lightly at Victor's shoulder, more a nervous reflex than real effort. "I am not blushing. And we're not… we're not having that conversation."

Victor laughed under his breath, warm and low, a sound that curled through the space between them like smoke. "We already are," he murmured, leaning back just enough to make the pull of his hands on Elias's hips feel intentional. "Besides, you're adorable when you're trying to argue with yourself."

Elias's jaw worked soundlessly, eyes narrowing, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him far more than he wanted. "I'm starting to think that elbow to the ribs was deserved," he muttered, but even as the words left his mouth, his voice wavered.

"Elias."

Victor's tone dropped, low enough to graze the air like a blade sheathed in velvet. "Help me before I lose my mind."

The shift was immediate, disarming.

Elias blinked, caught off guard by the sudden gravity in Victor's voice, the way his breath now came heavier, shoulders rising just a little too sharply as though under an invisible weight. Crimson eyes, usually so effortlessly composed, burned low and unsteady, like coals on the edge of going dark.

Elias opened his mouth, ready to lash back with some desperate retort, anything to reclaim ground.

And then he saw them.

At first he thought it was the light, until he realized it wasn't.

Faint tracings shimmered under Victor's eyes, down the curve of his temples, snaking faintly along his neck. Ether channels. Visible when they should never be. Pale and sickly, flickering like something burning out, some collapsing into faint scars as if they'd already been pushed past their limit.

Elias's stomach dropped. His breath caught, his heartbeat stuttering as his gaze climbed back to Victor's face. More of those ghostlike lines bloomed and faded near his eyes, crawling too fast, too wrong.

"How?" The word slipped out raw and low, stripped of anything but fear.