Dominic

My legs burned as I pushed the bike across the winding paths of Central Park, my wolf ears twitching as the crisp wind pricked at them. The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the autumn-strewn walkways. The air nipped against my skin, and I wiped the sweat off my brow.

It was just after five in the evening, the end of another day delivering packages as a bike courier for Mr. Thompson. The job wasn’t much, but it was the only work I could get and the only work that would take me. I was sure he hired me for my build—towering and strong beyond my years, but I didn’t care. The pay wasn’t bad for a high school senior.

Seventeen felt too young to be this tired. With the weekend and no school, early shifts were a necessity.

“I’m fucking hungry,” I said, glancing at the park’s edge where the city traffic hummed like an endless chorus. The thought of home pulled at me, heavy and uninviting.

Mom probably has dinner ready, yet the idea of stepping into that apartment, facing her weary eyes and the sharpness of her voice, made me hesitate. She’d be getting ready for another night shift at the hospital, and her exhaustion would probably manifest in anger. It was never truly directed at me, but it stung all the same.

I didn’t blame her, but guilt coiled tight in my chest. Life hadn’t been easy for either of us. My father—a name I never said out loud—had walked out the day I was born. The bastard couldn’t accept that his son was an Earborn, a Beastkin, with traits that set me apart so obviously. Born with the wolf ears and tail of the ancestors.

A Primal Alpha—one of the rarest and most powerful types, found only in the elite one percent of the population.

But in our world, being a low-class Beastkin born was a death sentence, a label stamped “threat” that marked me as uncivilized and wild.

My father hadn’t seen a miracle—he’d seen a lie. Convinced my mom had cheated with some elite, rich alpha, he’d left her, unable to shoulder the weight of responsibility. And so, she’d raised me alone, an omega Latina with a spine of steel, pushing against every stigma and obstacle. Even against the odds, she became a nurse in the harsh environment of New York City—the city that never sleeps.

She worked grueling hours to keep us afloat, facing a world that saw us as less. The least I could do was be grateful. But I wasn’t, not always. Moments like these, when the sky darkened and fatigue pressed in, selfish thoughts crept to the surface.

I’m an asshole for not wanting to go home.

Shame bit at me.

She deserves better than a son who’d rather roam the park than face her struggles.

Yet the pull to stay away was stronger. Because even though I loved her fiercely, the weight of her disappointment—in me, in our life—was something I wasn’t sure I could bear tonight.

I let go of the bike handles and opened my arms, letting the cool wind rush past me, carrying with it the aroma of fallen leaves and damp earth. It cut through the exhaustion, a brief moment of freedom that made my heart ache.

I steered the bike off the main path and headed toward the Bethesda Fountain. The courtyard was quieter now, with the summer crowds long gone and only a handful of people lingering. The fading warmth of the day gave way to the crisp chill of autumn, and the tourists had thinned out enough for me to enjoy the space in solitude.

I parked my bike and sat on the stone steps, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. The sound of water trickling from the angel statue above soothed the tightness in my chest. A few geese floated lazily on the pond, their silhouettes mirrored in the rippling water. Soon, they’d be gone, heading south before winter’s grip settled in. For now, though, they were here, and so was I, stealing a moment of peace before reality came crashing back.

Of course, the peace couldn’t last for long. Reality always snapped back as fast as I could blink. Being born a Beastkin meant more than just inheriting my ancestors’ ears and tail. It came with heightened senses of hearing and smell, like a two-legged dog. I could pick up the faintest sounds and even the smell of fear. And being an alpha, that instinct to protect was wired into my blood.

Well, not all alphas, I guessed. My father certainly hadn’t stayed to protect my mom. Maybe it was just me, my own sense of duty to protect her. But not today. Today, I just wanted to walk away, avoid any more trouble that my mere existence always seemed to attract.

I stood up and brushed off the dry leaf stuck to the back of my pants. As I reached for my bike, a breeze swept past, carrying the unmistakable smell of fear mixed with decadent pheromones that froze me in place.

Winter Camellias.

Sweet, hot and cold, angry and scared.

My breath hitched, coming out in ragged bursts. My canines sprouted, saliva pooling in my mouth like a feral animal. I clenched my eyes shut, taking deep breaths to calm my pounding heart, trying to ignore the overwhelming sensations.

A muffled call for help, followed by a string of curses, shattered my restraint. My eyes snapped open, and I looked at the sky, searching for any sign to stop me. None came. “Ha, fuck it,” I muttered, taking the stairs two at a time as I sprinted toward the terrace.

As soon as I reached the middle entrance, I skidded to a halt, stunned by the sight before me. An omega Beastkin, the most beautiful I’d ever seen—hell, I don’t think I’d ever seen a Primal Omega Beastkin in person—stood with bloodied knuckles and wild eyes. His blond, almost white hair glowed in the dim light of the terrace, and his blue eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Fear and pheromones poured off him in waves. And yet, he was fighting?

“Holy shit,” I breathed, eyes locked on the chaos. The omega moved like a cornered animal. His fist lashed at a kid, knuckles cracking against the boy’s cheek with a sickening thud that echoed off the empty terrace walls. The only sounds were the grunts of pain and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.

Another kid groaned, clutching his arm as if it might fall off, while the other spat blood. The omega stood above the three of them, chest heaving, a wild light in his eyes. He shifted his weight, knees bent, ready for another strike. Even from a distance, I could see how his hands shook, muscles straining as if the adrenaline was the only thing holding him together.

How the hell was he dominating them, turning the tables so viciously? I had no clue. And I didn’t want to get tangled up in this mess. I was about to turn and walk away when the omega’s eyes locked onto mine. He dropped the kid and ran straight for me.

My tail bristled, every hair on my body standing on end as I instinctively stepped back. But he was too fast, closing the distance in a heartbeat. He clung to my shirt, his fingers shaking as tears finally broke free and traced paths down his dirt-streaked cheeks.

“They followed me,” he choked out, his voice quivering. “Tried to touch me. My tail. They tried to touch my tail.”

Rage flared through my veins, hot and consuming. I didn’t know much about omega Beastkin, but I knew enough to understand that the tail was sacred, a sensitive area that no one had any right to touch without consent. It was an unspoken rule, even for me.

I glanced at the kids on the ground, their expressions shifting from anger to panic as they realized the trouble they were in. My alpha pheromones surged, thick and overpowering, filling the air. The kids coughed, fists clenching their chests as they struggled to breathe. They were probably alphas too, but they couldn’t withstand the weight of my dominance.

But then I felt the omega’s grip on my shirt weaken, his legs shaking as if about to give out. His blue eyes met mine, wide and pleading. “Please… it’s too much,” he whispered, the plea barely holding back a sob, his cheeks flushed as he fought to stay upright.

Realizing what I was doing, I took a shaky breath and pulled back my pheromones, letting the tension in the air ease. I reached out and steadied him, feeling the tremble in his thin frame. He was light as a feather, and my hands nearly dwarfed his thin arms. A strange, unfamiliar warmth unfurled in my chest. It felt foreign, unsettling, but before I could make sense of it, the anger at the kids surged back to the forefront.

“Sorry, I—” I started but cut myself off with a glare at the kids. They scrambled to their feet, casting one last fearful glance before bolting past us and disappearing into the shadows.

I turned back to the omega. His ears laid low in a sign of exhaustion and pain. Still, he managed a sheepish smile despite the tear tracks and bruises. “Are you feeling better?” I asked.

He nodded, wiping at his face. “Yes, thank you.”

I gave a tight smile and released his arms. “I’m outta here. They’re not coming back, trust me. Go home—it’s late.”

“I’m sixteen,” he muttered, his ears flicking up slightly as if to challenge me.

I guessed then he was low-class like me; an elite omega Beastkin wouldn’t be out here fighting alone. The way he defended himself, though, was impressive.

I patted his arm lightly, ignoring how the faint trace of his pheromones still made my skin tingle. “Take care.” I turned and walked away, climbing the steps back up to my bike.

Just as I started to push off, I felt a presence behind me. I glanced back and saw him standing there.

“Hmm, do you go this way too?” I asked, pausing mid-step.

He nodded but said nothing, and before I could turn away, he spoke up, his voice soft and with a slight tremor. “What’s your name?”

“Dominic Reyes,” I replied, a little surprised at the question.

A small, almost shy smile crossed his bruised face. He raised a hand and gestured to himself. “My name is Theo,” he said. “Just Theo,” he added, biting his lip. Something about that hesitation made my ears flicker, but I didn’t press him.

“Okay…bye then,” I muttered, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. I started walking, pushing my bike along. The hunger gnawed at me, annoyance simmering as I realized that peace, even fleeting, indeed was impossible.

As I continued along the trail, the floral fragrance teased my nose, insistent and distracting. I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead as I walked, but the scent clung to the cool breeze, winding its way into my senses and making my pulse quicken.

I tried to shake it off, taking deeper breaths to clear my head, but it was no use. The scent was there, insistent and maddening. My tail, a stupid traitorous thing, wagged with each step, drawing glances from passersby who probably thought I was some idiot who couldn’t control his instincts.

A small patter of footsteps followed behind, light, scraping against the leaves and gravel, sending a shiver up my spine. I didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Theo. Why was he following? Yet, something made me keep my pace steady, not shooing him away. And I knew I was fucked.