Obsessio

Dawn barely tinted the sky when Nana gently shook Amor awake. "Up you get, pup. We're foraging today – need extra hands." Her voice was calm, but her eyes held unspoken urgency. Truth was, she'd gathered enough yesterday. But her grandson's rut was rising like a tide, and Amor had to be shielded. Ruts might be brief, but the raw Alpha pheromones? Brutal. An unmated Omega like Amor wouldn't stand a chance – flight was the only defense. Nana herself was immune, safely anchored by her late mate's enduring mark etched into her soul. But Amor? He was exposed.

Obsessio finally stirred, groggy and hours behind schedule. Sleep had been a battle. He'd spent the night wrestling the suppressant's fading grip, his gaze perpetually drawn to Amor's sleeping form – the curve of his cheek, the rhythm of his breath. The shot Nana administered yesterday had dulled the worst of the rut's possessive frenzy, but suppressants were a flimsy shield. Temporary. Unreliable. The beast beneath could surge back anytime.

His stomach growled like a feral thing. "Nana!" he called out, voice rough with disuse and lingering rut-gruffness, padding towards the kitchen. "Starving over here!" The cottage felt hollow, silent. Then he saw it, a steaming bowl of porridge on the table, and beside it, a folded note in Nana's familiar, spidery script.

He snatched the note, hunger momentarily forgotten as his eyes scanned the words:

Dear Obsessio,

Amor and I headed out for more supplies. You just chill – rest up. Take your meds after you eat, okay? They'll take the edge off the ache. Please... look after yourself.

- Nana

A low groan escaped him. Supplies. Right. The code for 'getting the vulnerable Omega the hell away from the volatile Alpha'. He crumpled the note slightly, a mix of frustration at the rut's timing and guilt for the disruption. The suppressant vial on the counter seemed to pulse, a temporary cage for the storm inside. He slumped into a chair, the scent of Amor lingering faintly in the empty space, a sweet torment the porridge couldn't mask.

Back in the quiet cottage, Obsessio paced the small confines of his room like a caged predator. Amor's scent – sweet milk and innocence, faintly clinging to the borrowed blanket – seemed to permeate the air, an invisible noose tightening around his senses.

Why won't it stop?, The Omega's face, his smile, the feel of him trembling against his back during the slide… it looped relentlessly in Obsessio's mind. It wasn't just thought, it was a physical invasion. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a crushing fist, each beat sending shards of pain through his chest. A low growl rumbled in his throat, unbidden – pure Alpha frustration warped into something raw and terrifying. He felt… unhinged.

Desperate, he fumbled for the small vial Nana kept for his rare, severe episodes. The bitter herbal concoction, swallowed after dinner, usually brought a numbing calm. Mid-day, it only dulled the edges. The image of Amor – the scent of him – still pulsed beneath the surface, a relentless, sweet ache.

He's just an Omega. A friend. Pack. STOP...

He slammed a fist against the rough wall, the pain a fleeting distraction. "Stop… Stop thinking about him!" he hissed into the suffocating silence, the command useless against the primal tide rising within him.

The craving was visceral, terrifying, a desperate, gnawing need to bury his face in Amor's neck, to drown in that intoxicating Omega pheromone, to claim…

The craving tipped into madness. Rational thought shattered. He needed oblivion. Now. Stumbling to Nana's meticulously organized medicinal chest – knowledge gifted by her, not schools – his trembling hands found the small syringe and vial of potent sedative, reserved for emergencies. Nana trusted him implicitly. This felt like a betrayal, but the beast inside roared louder than guilt.

With grim determination, ignoring the tremor in his hands, he drew the clear liquid. No hesitation. He plunged the needle into his thigh, injecting the cold solution. A sharp sting, then spreading numbness. The world tilted, sounds muffled. The frantic pounding of his heart began to slow, the sharp edges of his obsession blurring into a thick, welcoming fog.

He staggered the few steps towards his mat. Not the cold floor. He collapsed onto Amor's vacated pallet, the thin mattress still radiating the Omega's warmth, saturated with his unique, tormenting, utterly irresistible scent. As the sedative pulled him under, dragging him into forced unconsciousness, his last conscious thought was a horrifying mix of relief and surrender, his face pressed into the pillow that smelled like him– the Omega who had unwittingly become his obsession, his solace, and his deepest, most dangerous craving. The borrowed blanket, smelling of them both, tangled around him like a shroud as darkness claimed him.

The afternoon bled into a tense, uneasy dusk. Long shadows stretched across the clearing where Obsessio paced restlessly. Nana and Amor should have been back hours ago. The sun was sinking fast, painting the sky in bruised oranges and purples, casting an ominous gloom over the silent forest.

Obsessio's own recovery was complete, the lingering fatigue and minor scrapes from the slide were gone, his Alpha resilience fully restored. But that only sharpened his anxiety. The gnawing worry in his gut had escalated into full-blown dread.

Where are they? What's taking so freaking long? —Every rustle in the undergrowth made his head snap up, heart pounding against his ribs.

Panic, cold and sharp, finally overrode caution. "Screw waiting," he muttered, grabbing his worn hunting knife. He burst out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him. Standing in the deepening twilight, he closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his Alpha senses. He inhaled deeply, filtering through the familiar scents of pine, damp earth, and woodsmoke. There. Faint, but unmistakable – the warm, comforting scent of Amor layered with Nana's distinct aroma of herbs and aged resilience. And beneath it... a thread of something sour. Fear? Distress?

He locked onto the trail like a bloodhound. Got you.He took off, not walking, but running, crashing through the undergrowth with single-minded urgency. The fading light made the path treacherous, roots snagging his feet, branches whipping his face, but he didn't slow. His world narrowed to the scent trail, pulling him deeper into the forest's heart. The further he ran, the stronger the scents became, laced now with the unmistakable tang of... blood? His Alpha instincts screamed, protective fury igniting within him.

An hour of frantic running later, the last slivers of sunlight vanished, plunging the woods into near-total darkness. Only the moon, a pale sliver, offered any light. The scent trail led him to a clearing he knew all too well – the edge of the territory dominated by the massive, gnarled silhouette known as the Grave Tree. It was a place whispered about, avoided: the rumored meeting ground or stronghold of the forest's unseen, ruthless rulers – wealthy, powerful, and notoriously cruel.

There, in the moon's feeble glow, he saw them. His breath hitched, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. Nana and Amor were bound back-to-back against the thick trunk of a lesser tree near the ominous Grave Tree. Rough ropes bit into their wrists, their postures slumped with exhaustion and fear. Nana's head was bowed, but Amor's eyes, wide and glistening in the dim light, snapped towards the sound of Obsessio's approach.

"Nana! Ve!" The names tore from his throat, raw with fury and relief. He didn't hesitate, didn't scan for threats – his sole focus was reaching them. He sprinted across the clearing, dropping to his knees beside them, his knife already sawing through the coarse ropes binding Amor's wrists with frantic speed.

The ropes fell away. Amor slumped forward, gasping. He looked up at Obsessio, his face pale, etched with pure terror, deep worry for Nana, and a profound sadness that cut Obsessio to the core. His voice was a broken whisper, trembling with unshed tears. "Sio... T-Tolong..." Help us... The single word, laced with desperate trust and vulnerability, struck Obsessio harder than any physical blow. His Omega was hurt. His pack was threatened. The Alpha within him roared to the surface, a primal wave of protectiveness and rage ready to unleash itself on whatever had dared to touch them.