On a desolate highway at two in the morning, a black motorcycle at the far end roared like a panther sprinting through the darkness, tearing across the road where the asphalt met the stars. A sharp screech of tires cut through the night as the bike briefly paused at a lone gas station in the barren wasteland.
The air was thick with a potent mixture of alpha pheromones. A group of alpha motorcyclists lingered inside the station—tall, muscular, their arms tattooed with steampunk gears and ornate English lettering. Leaning against the pumps, a cigarette stub clamped between their teeth, they stared at the unexpected newcomer with a provocative gleam.
“Where’d the rich kid come from?” one alpha whistled, his vest lifted to reveal deep abdominal lines.
It was obvious to all the alphas here that the rider under the helmet was no ordinary person. His bike—a Nordic Goddess 1800, an American-made, ultra-heavy, high-powered cruiser—was a rare masterpiece. Eighty-five percent of its components were handcrafted, with only 2,500 ever produced before being discontinued.
The rider’s head was concealed beneath a black helmet, his body tightly wrapped in a studded suit that clung to his slender form. His waistline was a tempting curve, igniting a heat in the alphas’ gazes. Around his neck, a black steel neck guard hugged him closely, protecting his glands.
Alphas rarely wore such protection—they were strong enough to guard their own vulnerable necks with raw strength.
Yet even with the guard, a faint sweet scent escaped through its gaps. Soft and sugary, like a marshmallow with a heavy dose of milk candy, it teased unwittingly, igniting the alphas’ bloodlust. A few of them had red-rimmed eyes, barely containing their desire, like wolves stalking a naive lamb, their greed visible enough to shine green if it had color.
It was an omega.
An omega with pure, unmarked pheromones—so sweet and untainted, like pristine milk candy—standing right in front of them. A rare gem yet untouched, drawing involuntary attention.
Yan Yi removed his helmet, letting his soft, ash-gray hair flutter in the wind. The fragrance intensified, filling the gas station and overpowering the sharp smell of gasoline.
Two soft rabbit ears drooped between his hair, blood stalled from being pressed by the helmet. He massaged them, easing the numbness.
He checked his tactical belt. The suppressor vials were empty, and the heat coursing through his body made him restless. He longed for an alpha’s comforting pheromones, his rabbit ears craving touch, glands thrumming wildly, secreting mating pheromones that went unfulfilled. The pain became a signal, a compulsion driving him to seek an appropriate alpha to relieve his heat.
Taking a deep breath, he whispered to the attendant, a beta, “Fill it up.”
The beta, unaccustomed to pheromones, was nevertheless stunned by Yan Yi’s gentle, handsome face, fumbling with the pump.
“Sorry, sorry!” the beta stammered, adjusting his hat as he managed the nozzle.
Leaning against a pillar, Yan Yi fidgeted, pulling a lighter and cigarette from his pocket before noticing the “No Open Flame” sign and hurriedly tucking them away.
An unmarked, in-heat drooping-eared omega. So soft, so tempting. The implication was clear: this omega was a prime target for any alpha. He could be stripped, restrained, marked, and possessed; his delicate wrists and ankles pressed by a predator, his glands claimed, his body repeatedly invaded, until nothing remained but submission.
One alpha stepped forward, more imposing than any of the others. His red-rimmed eyes glinted, his chest muscles bursting against a jacket too small, revealing a lion tattoo carved in fierce detail.
“You’re beautiful, little white rabbit,” he said, exuding potent pheromones that overwhelmed the young omega. This was a second-tier lion alpha, elite among alphas. His pheromones carried dominance, his presence absolute.
Second-tier gland differentiation was rare, granting the alpha superior abilities and leadership status. This lion alpha was the leader of the group, undefeated in late-night hunts, a figure of strength every omega revered. Only one percent of all alphas reached this tier—a prize among prizes.
Confident in his dominance and pheromones, the lion alpha desired to claim the drooping-eared rabbit immediately. He reached for Yan Yi’s neck guard, eager to scent him, mark him, and assert possession.
Yan Yi, in full heat, flinched from the powerful alpha signals surrounding him. His ears burned, veins nearly bursting, his body ached as every nerve was pierced by invasive pheromones. His lips paled, the stress of resisting nearly unbearable.
He stepped back slightly.
The lion alpha smiled, reaching for Yan Yi, but a cold Desert Eagle pressed against his forehead stopped him.
Suddenly alert, the alpha smelled faint blood on Yan Yi—fresh from a recent struggle.
Yan Yi held the gun lightly, his voice soft yet firm: “Sir… please let me be alone for a moment.”
The two-kilogram Desert Eagle felt weightless in his delicate hand, its ten-inch barrel and scope attached, a ridiculous weapon for someone so small. The alpha’s expression darkened.
“Do you know who I am? No one dares point a gun at me,” he growled.
Yan Yi, fragile as a dandelion in the wind, smiled faintly. “Now you do, sir. Everyone has a first time.”
The gas station fell silent, tension sharp enough to freeze the air. Even the biker alphas watched in stunned silence as their usually arrogant leader was bested by a tiny omega.
Gas tank full, Yan Yi put on his helmet and mounted the black motorcycle. The starlight glinting off the heat shield caught the lion alpha’s eyes before he roared off, leaving a trail of gasoline-scented mist behind.
The lion alpha stared after the small rabbit, seeing through the helmet a pair of melancholy, gentle eyes. Ash-gray pupils glimmered with loneliness, like a dandelion trembling on a bare stem, impossible not to pity.
Who had caused this small, bristling omega such pain? Left in heat with no alpha to care for him—it must be unbearable.
Yan Yi turned onto a deserted country road, passing a few rural cottages. A small old woman squatted by the path, wearing a faded blue dress and a clean headscarf, a purple chrysanthemum in her hair.
Yan Yi slowed, careful not to disturb her. She sniffed the air, noting the sweet scent, and muttered, “Rabbit always in heat… it’s inconvenient without an alpha. Has your alpha caught up to you yet?”
Yan Yi smiled softly, ears pressed against the helmet. “Not yet. Perhaps yesterday’s flower wasn’t fresh… he didn’t like it.”
The old woman huffed and handed him a single red rose from her basket. “Take this in, give him a kiss—he’ll be enchanted.”
Yan Yi gently picked one rose, placed it in his jacket pocket, and handed the old woman ten yuan. She accepted it, folding it neatly into her lace-trimmed pouch.
He was a regular visitor to this garden, always bringing a rose for that alpha after his work. But roses were expensive. Buying a whole bouquet only to watch it wilt and toss it was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
One was enough. Seeing it wither in his pocket was easier to bear.
Under the black helmet, Yan Yi’s pale face was damp with cold sweat, ash-gray hair clinging to his cheeks. He parked in the underground garage, stepping into the elevator soaked.
Suppressing his heat with inhibitors was like drinking poison to quench thirst, making each cycle fiercer, his body thrashing like a caged beast, veins screaming in pain.
He could barely walk, eventually kneeling, instinctively moving toward the familiar scent of his alpha in the bedroom.
So desperate… he just wanted his alpha to touch him, a simple gesture, no more, letting pheromones ease the agony.
Weak as a rabbit pulled from water, he stood by the bedroom door, holding the vibrant rose, about to knock. Strong alpha pheromones hit his glands first, mingled with cloying omega heat, cutting through his last defenses.
Moans echoed from inside. A beautiful omega whispered, interrupted by bodies colliding: “Jin… Jin… it hurts…”
Yan Yi’s blood ran cold. Though he had witnessed this many times, he could never get used to it. His eyes grew lonely and sorrowful as the Desert Eagle pressed against the door.
His sensitive rabbit ears allowed him to hear everything; he could shoot the omega inside without opening his eyes. The moans pierced his ears, a brutal assault, forcing him to sink to his knees, forehead resting against the solid wood door.
His eyes went vacant, overwhelmed by conflicting pheromones. He couldn’t compete for territory with Lu Shangjin’s chosen omega. Instead, he brought the rose to his nose, inhaling deeply.
Mist blurred his vision; his soft ears trembled, brushing away tears.
“Jin… brother.”
“Touch me too…”