Chapter 1

“Well, now. Who might this be? It seems the young lord has no need for sleep.”

Deep within the midnight shadows of Count Ravenwell’s manor, Elwin Somerset Hetherton lingered anxiously in the second-floor corridor. He hovered before a guest room door, his nerves stretched taut, when the low, purring voice behind him made him jolt, snapping his head around in alarm.

A strikingly handsome man loomed in the dim hallway. Loose black curls framed a sun-bronzed face, and a corner of his mouth tilted upward in an amused, devastatingly flirtatious smirk.

“Mr. Leon.”

Elwin’s blue eyes faltered in the gloom.

Of course.

That insufferable rake had materialized to disrupt his plans yet again. Leon, the uninvited guest who had descended upon the Ravenwell estate without warning, remained an enigma whose depths Elwin could not begin to plumb. The household staff dismissed him as little more than a wealthy, cheerful idler, but Elwin knew far better than to trust that effortless, easy smile.

He cast a fretful, sweeping glance over Leon’s attire. The man wore a crimson velvet robe embroidered with lavish gold patterns—an outfit perfectly suited to a frivolous, decadent playboy. Yet, the garment itself was the least of Elwin’s concerns.

“…Why are you wandering the corridors in nothing but a robe again?” Elwin hissed in a horrified whisper.

He had rushed from his quarters in such a frenzy that he had neglected to grab his spectacles, yet the parted collar of Leon’s robe still revealed the firm, sculpted contour of his chest with agonizing clarity. Utterly unabashed by his own exposure, Leon merely smiled.

“I never wear anything when I sleep. As you know very well, Sir Elwin.”

Leon enunciated the final words with deliberate, heavy emphasis. While technically true, the shameless insinuation hung heavy with scandalous implications, leaving Elwin flustered and stammering.

“W-what an utterly indecent thing to—”

“Then should I have donned a respectable nightshirt, like yours?”

Elwin flinched. Once again, Leon had spoken the literal truth. Elwin did indeed wear a shirt beneath his robe, but given the scandalous nature of the garment, he could hardly claim the moral high ground.

It was no ordinary pajama shirt. The piece was downright provocative, fashioned from a sheer, gossamer fabric that left nothing to the imagination, with froths of excessive lace spilling from the cuffs and collar. It was the sort of nightwear designed solely for intimate adornment—certainly not something an Omega-born heir of a noble house should wear in front of an unfamiliar, predatory Alpha.

Mortified by his own display, Elwin scrambled to cinch his robe closed, but in his haste, he accidentally unraveled the silk sash at his waist. His panic-slicked fingers fumbled uselessly as the crimson cord spun and drifted around his body.

Leon chuckled softly, snaring the drifting sash in one fluid, elegant motion. As he kindly returned the silk strap, the tips of his unusually warm fingers brushed lightly against Elwin’s palm, sending an electric jolt through the Omega.

“What an exquisite sight. I had no idea the young lord harbored a preference for sleeping in such… provocative garments.”

“I do not enjoy wearing this! This is merely…”

Elwin cut himself off, though he, too, was telling the truth. He had never worn such an outrageous piece of clothing in his life, and he certainly had not selected it. The culprit who had slipped the sheer garment to him while preparing his bedding was none other than his personal attendant, Toby.

Toby had served Elwin since childhood, a loyal companion who was practically his closest confidant. He was good-natured and remarkably decisive, but that same boldness often spilled into outright recklessness, birthing more than a few domestic disasters. Indeed, the very reason Elwin paced the hallway tonight was a direct consequence of Toby’s latest scheme.

“What urgent business could possibly drag you out in the dead of night, dressed so unlike your usual modest self?” Leon drawled playfully, his gaze darting toward the heavy oak door in front of them. “Were you perhaps slipping away for a clandestine rendezvous?”

That door led to the guest room housing Dwight.

Dwight was Elwin’s distant cousin from a branch family, and the man poised to inherit the title of Count Ravenwell. Following the sudden death of Elwin’s father abroad, the estate’s future was grim; as an Omega, Elwin was legally barred from inheriting the family title or land.

“A rendezvous? No, it is nothing of the—” Elwin’s voice trailed away, his teeth gnawing anxiously at his lower lip.

Leon undoubtedly assumed Elwin had donned this seductive silk to barge into Dwight’s quarters and entice him. The agonizing truth was that the assumption was not entirely incorrect. Dwight was precisely the reason Toby had forced Elwin into the lace shirt. And Elwin did, in fact, intend to seduce him.

It was not a matter of desire, but of sheer survival. It was the only gambit left to prevent himself and his beloved younger sister from being cast out into the streets. Elwin had devised a desperate, secret objective: extract a marriage proposal from Dwight during the heir’s one-month stay at the manor.

But a plan is merely a plan, Elwin thought bitterly.

Though diligent and clever, Elwin was a bookworm, hopelessly inexperienced in the arts of courtship. His grand seduction campaign was, in truth, a miserable failure. Whether it was due to his own ineptitude or because the objective was fundamentally doomed, he did not know.

As Elwin lost himself in his thoughts, Leon observed him in heavy silence. Under the piercing, predatory weight of those amber eyes, Elwin felt a feverish warmth creep up his neck, flushing his cheeks crimson.

Is it the wine? Honestly, Toby… you absolute menace.

In a way, Leon shared the blame for tonight’s disastrous turn. Toby had only resorted to such desperate measures because he had grown frantic over Elwin’s complete lack of progress. Earlier that afternoon, Elwin had managed to thoroughly offend Dwight, leaving the heir in such a towering rage that the entire household staff had spent the evening walking on eggshells.

Hoping to salvage the situation, the overzealous Toby had taken matters into his own hands.

When Toby had arrived to turn down the bedsheets and forced Elwin into the scandalous lace shirt, Elwin had assumed he could simply demand a change of clothes. But then Toby, noting the unusual flush on Elwin’s face, had chirped ecstatically.

— “Look, young master! It’s starting to take effect!”

— “What nonsense are you spouting now? First, bring me proper sleepwear.”

— “No! Tonight is the night you must strike!”

At his servant’s spirited declaration, a dark, heavy dread had bloomed in Elwin’s chest.

— “Strike? Don’t tell me you…”

— “You remember tonight’s dinner menu, don’t you? I consulted the kitchen maids and had them prepare it specifically. Oysters for the appetizer, heavy truffle sauce and rich spices with the roast, and hot chocolate and port wine to finish!”

— “What of the menu?”

— “Is there truly something the young master, who knows every book in the library, does not understand? You drank far more wine than usual, so I thought you caught my drift. Those are all potent aphrodisiacs! They say if an Alpha consumes them, he’ll turn into an insatiable beast all night!”

Toby had looked utterly triumphant, as though he had performed some great, heroic feat.

— “There is no time to waste, young master. Lord Dwight drank heavily of the port wine as well. When I cleared the table, I saw several drained goblets at his seat. By now, he must be rock hard.”

— “Toby! ‘Rock hard’? Mind your language… no, wait.”

As Elwin scrambled to silence his attendant’s outrageous vulgarity, a terrifying realization had struck him. Dwight was not the only resident in the manor. There was also the noble lady who had traveled with Dwight, not to mention Elwin’s innocent younger sister sleeping just down the hall. If Dwight truly succumbed to a primal, aphrodisiac-fueled frenzy, a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions would unfold.

— “I must lock Mr. Dwight’s door from the outside! Toby, return to your quarters at once. Tell the maids to bolt their doors securely before they sleep tonight!”

Frightened out of his wits, Elwin had thrown his robe over the sheer nightshirt, snatched up a heavy padlock in a panic, and bolted into the corridor. But instead of encountering a rampaging Dwight, he had run straight into Leon, who had just stepped out of the adjacent guest room.

Leon was the absolute last person Elwin wanted to face in this state. As Elwin’s eyes darted frantically around the corridor, avoiding the Alpha’s gaze, Leon spoke again, his tone dropping to a low, almost reproachful rumble.

“Why no answer, Sir Elwin?”

This was unbearable. How could he possibly explain this humiliating debacle? Where would he even begin? With the aphrodisiac dinner menu? Or with the shameful confession that he was actively plotting to seduce his cousin?

Perhaps explanation was unnecessary. Leon, with his terrifyingly sharp intuition, might have already deduced the truth. Whenever Elwin humpled himself before Dwight, Leon’s mood turned dangerously sharp, as if the display thoroughly displeased him. Their charged conversation in the stables earlier that day had carried the exact same suffocating tension.

No. Do not think of the stables. Oh, heavens… was the wine truly that potent? Why is it so stiflingly hot? And this scent…

His thoughts were growing increasingly sluggish, swimming in a thick, sweet haze. Just as a heavy, intoxicating sweetness began to dull Elwin’s senses, a sudden sound shattered the silence.

Click, clack.

The sharp, rhythmic tap of a maid’s leather shoes echoed from the stairwell.

No. If she catches us like this, she’ll assume the worst!

If they were discovered alone in the corridor at this ungodly hour, dressed in nothing but loose night robes, the resulting scandal would ruin him. Panicking, Elwin looked wildly about. Retreating to his own bedchamber would force him to cross paths with the ascending maid, and he certainly couldn’t duck into Dwight’s room.

“Let us hide. Quickly.”

Grabbing Leon by the forearm, Elwin dragged the Alpha into the adjacent room. Had he been in his right mind, he would have realized that entering a closed chamber with an unbonded Alpha was absolute madness. He was a cornered moth flying straight into a consuming flame.

Thud.

Elwin forced the heavy door shut and pressed his cheek to the polished wood, holding his breath. The maid’s footsteps drew nearer, paused, and then slowly receded down the far end of the long gallery.

“Haa…”

Elwin exhaled a long, shuddering breath of relief, resting a hand against his racing heart. But as he turned around, he realized Leon was standing flush against him. Worse, Elwin’s fingers were still tightly clasped around the Alpha’s bare forearm. Even when Elwin recoiled in startlement, Leon made no effort to step back.

“What… is that scent?” Leon asked, his voice thick, rough, and dangerously low.

Elwin opened his mouth to offer a rational explanation—to blame the rich port wine or the hot chocolate. But then, a stray memory sparkled through the haze. Toby had mentioned seeing several empty goblets at Dwight’s seat.

During formal dinners, Dwight sat directly across from Elwin. Toby, having left the dining hall early, had assumed the seating remained unchanged.

But tonight, a maid had spilled water near Dwight’s setting during the appetizer. The fastidious heir had grimaced in disgust, and Leon, who had been seated beside him, had smoothly offered to exchange places.

Consequently, Elwin had spent the entire evening sitting directly opposite Leon. Flustered by the Alpha’s unwavering, intense gaze, Elwin had drank continuously to calm his nerves. And Leon, seemingly troubled by something himself, had matched him cup for cup, draining one goblet after another.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with terrifying clarity.

The ones who had consumed the lion’s share of the stamina-boosting oysters, spices, and port wine were not Dwight, but Elwin and Leon.

Good heavens.

— “They’re all foods that boost stamina! Rock hard!”

— “Beast! Beast!”

The chaotic voices of Toby and Echo the parrot echoed in his mind. Elwin shook his head vigorously, desperately trying to banish the maddening thoughts.

Stay calm. Aphrodisiacs are nothing but old wives’ tales. There is no scientific basis for this.

Surely that was true. They had merely consumed ordinary wine and chocolate. Yet, the air in the room was growing impossibly dense. The fragrance was no longer that of simple grapes or cocoa; it had blossomed into a rich, suffocatingly sweet aroma, laced with a sharp, musky edge that sent a paralyzing numbness through his limbs.

Is this… the scent of pheromones?

Just as a horrified Elwin opened his mouth to speak, Leon beat him to it.

“Forgive me, Sir Elwin… but could you please rein in your pheromones? This is… far too intense.”

Elwin’s initial instinct was to accuse Leon of teasing him. But in the next heartbeat, he realized with absolute horror that his own body was indeed betraying him, exuding a thick, sweet wave of Omega pheromones into the closed space.

As a meticulously bred noble Omega, Elwin had never once lost control of his scent since presenting. But the lethal combination of the wine, the chocolate, and the sheer panic had utterly shattered his mental blocks.

Leon, who had consumed the exact same vintage, was in no better condition. As the Alpha realized his own dark, heavy scent was flooding the room, a rare flash of raw panic crossed his handsome features.

“A moment… I—I am terribly sorry,” Leon muttered, clearing his throat.

“Yes. Ahem. As am I.”

For a brief, agonizing moment, the two men turned away from one another, desperately attempting to suppress their biological signatures. It was an exercise in futility. With every passing second, their mingled breaths grew shallower and more labored.

This is dangerous. I must leave this room immediately.

Elwin pressed his ear to the door once more. The maid’s footsteps had finally descended the main staircase, leaving the corridor completely silent.

The instant the coast was clear, Elwin turned the brass doorknob.

Rattle.

The latch spun uselessly in his grip. The door remained firmly shut.

“Uh…?”

Because guests rarely visited the remote Ravenwell estate, the second-floor chambers had been neglected for years. Leon’s sudden arrival had left the staff scrambling, and this particular room had been prepared in a frantic rush.

But for the lock to jam at a moment like this was a cruel twist of fate. Stripped of his usual composure, Elwin grabbed the handle and shook it frantically.

“Will it not open?” Leon asked, stepping closer.

“Just… just a moment. Ah, why now of all times?”

“Allow me.”

“What? But—”

Driven by urgency, Leon closed the distance and clamped his hand directly over Elwin’s, gripping the brass doorknob. In doing so, his broad, solid frame effectively bracketed Elwin against the door from behind.

Elwin gasped as his heart plummeted into his stomach. He wanted to demand that the man back away, but he knew his voice would betray his trembling weakness, so he kept his lips tightly sealed.

Leon was equally affected. The muscular chest pressed flush against Elwin’s back had gone rigid with tension, and his body heat was scorching, radiating through their thin robes. Every biological indicator pointed toward a singular, primal conclusion.

Elwin’s own physical response was terrifying. In the small, unventilated room now choked with their clashing scents, the air was so thick it was impossible to tell whose ragged breathing echoed louder, or whose heart was hammering with such unbearable, deafening violence.

Wait. What is that… pressing against me? Don’t tell me…

The moment he registered the hard pressure against his lower back, a searing heat flared up the nape of Elwin’s neck. He was trapped in a locked room with a dominant Alpha whose pheromones were running completely wild. By all accounts, he should have felt terrified, yet his traitorous mind began conjuring highly inappropriate, intoxicating fantasies instead.

The man might be an untrustworthy rake, but his scent was achingly, overwhelmingly sweet—a fragrance so rich it seemed to melt Elwin’s intellect into helpless compliance.

“M-Mr. Leon…” he murmured, his voice a soft, breathless plea.

Leon suddenly shackled Elwin’s wrist with surprising strength. In one fluid, dizzying motion, he spun Elwin around, pinning his shoulders against the heavy wood of the door. They stood chest to chest, their rapid breaths mingling in the hot space between them.

Like a rabbit snared in a trap, Elwin’s gaze helplessly drifted down to Leon’s lips. They were lips that usually spouted insufferable provocations, yet they were beautifully shaped, looking impossibly soft and inviting in the dim light.

He is going to kiss me.

Whether the thought brought dread or a dark, forbidden anticipation, Elwin did not know. After all, they had crossed that line once before. What had those lips felt like? As the memory threatened to resurface, Elwin’s body temperature soared to a fever pitch.

“Sir Elwin,” Leon whispered.

The low, gravelly vibration of his voice sent a delicious shiver straight down Elwin’s spine. Elwin slowly lowered his eyelashes, his resistance crumbling.

If those lips touched his again, there would be no turning back. This was, without a doubt, the single greatest crisis in all twenty years of Elwin Somerset Hetherton’s life. The Alpha he had to seduce to secure his family’s survival was Dwight—yet here he was, on the absolute precipice of surrendering himself to the wrong man.