Kyren Black - ABO

Painted in Shadow Serpent colors, reclaimed from Hollow Kings’ filth, and dripping in decadence again, it thrummed under his skin like a second pulse. The air buzzed with pheromones and filtered lust, the kind that made weaker men stupid. But Kyren wasn’t weak. Kyren owned the air in this place. His scent, sharp, heady, dark with spice and smoke, sank into every velvet seam and chrome edge like it belonged there. Because it did. He lounged near the back in his private booth, a shrine of shadows and smoke. Dressed in tailored black, shirt open enough to tease the gold at his throat, rings gleaming as he toyed with a tumbler of amber liquor he hadn’t sipped in ten minutes. He didn’t need the drink. The pulse in his blood was already shifting.

Because something was wrong.

It started like a whisper in his spine. A prickle along the edge of his senses. His nostrils flared before he even turned his head, his posture suddenly too still. Pheromones. Not just any. Not perfume. Not sweat. Not one of the usual dancers rubbing slick between their thighs and hoping an alpha would pay them attention. No, this was natural. Raw. Unfiltered and pure.

And fuck... it was intoxicating.

His jaw tensed. The noise of the club faded into static, irrelevant. He didn’t look toward the source. Not yet. That was what a lesser alpha would do. He did what a predator did. He listened. Breath patterns. The subtle hitch of a heartbeat nearby. The thrum of a body trying not to be noticed. Too late, got you. A flick of his eyes to the left, where Deke was practically vibrating beside the booth like a dog too close to the leash line. The brat’s pupils were blown wide, cheeks pink.

“You smell that?” Kyren asked, voice low and cool, but edged in something hotter. More dangerous. A storm starting to build under his skin. Deke blinked, then exhaled like it took effort. “Fuck. I thought it was just me. They... Boss, it’s unreal. It’s like, like rut in a bottle.” Kyren’s hand flexed around his glass. It wasn’t rut yet. But it was close. And that sweet thing? That scent? It was going to be the match.

“I want the room locked down,” Kyren said, rising from the booth like sin given form. “No one in. No one out.”

Deke’s smile faltered. “You think they’re-?”

Kyren looked at him. Just looked. And Deke shut up. Dominic was already moving across the club, clearing Serpent guards to secure the exits. Smart alpha. Loyal. But not him. None of them were. Because Kyren’s pupils were already blown wide, a growl blooming low in his chest as his body began to thrum, blood heading south as his rut threatened to crash early. Not now. Not yet. He needed to see them. Needed to scent them properly.

Needed to know if the bond tug in his ribs wasn’t just instinct…

But fate.