The Carter-Monroe household was quiet from the outside—polished, elegant, a picture of blended family perfection. But inside, it was a battlefield. Not of fists or flying objects, but of glares, slammed doors, and constant snide remarks exchanged between two boys who shared nothing but their parents’ last names.

Alex Monroe, seventeen, an omega with soft features and expressive eyes, had perfected the art of looking disinterested while secretly watching Brian from behind his curtain of fluffy hair. He didn’t like Brian—at least, that’s what he told himself. It was easier to call it hate than admit to the tight feeling in his chest whenever Brian entered a room.

Brian Carter, eighteen, broad-shouldered and commanding, had the kind of aura that made others step aside. He was the school’s golden boy—alpha, soccer captain, straight A’s—but at home, he was cold. Especially to Alex. He’d toss a careless insult, flash a smirk, and walk away like he hadn’t just left a bruise on Alex’s pride.

They weren’t always like this. When their parents first married, Brian was distant, but tolerable. Alex tried being polite, even friendly. But one awkward glance too long, one scent too strong, and everything changed. Now, any time they were in the same room, it became a show of disdain. They knew how to push each other’s buttons with surgical precision.

Their parents, Rachel and Daniel, remained oblivious—too in love, too distracted. Rachel would say, “Give it time, boys. You’ll be like real brothers soon.” But the idea made Alex’s stomach churn, and not because he didn’t want to get along with Brian.

He just wanted him too much.

And so the war continued. Silent stares at dinner. Heated arguments over laundry. A cold shoulder in the hallway. From the outside, they were bitter stepbrothers.

Inside, they were two fated souls waiting to crash.

HEAT AND HALE

Alex woke up in a sweat, clutching his blanket like a lifeline. His skin tingled, and the air felt too heavy to breathe. The sheets clung to his body, soaked. His heat had started early.

He hated this. The vulnerability. The cravings. The scent that clung to him like a neon sign screaming omega in need. He sprayed more suppressant than needed, then lit a candle, trying to mask the inevitable. But it wasn’t enough.

Downstairs, Brian stiffened when the scent reached him—soft jasmine, like spring rain and warm skin. His wolf stirred. His instincts flared. He dropped the orange juice he was pouring and cursed under his breath.

Brian avoided Alex that day, locking himself in the gym, pushing weights to exhaustion. Every whiff of Alex’s scent ignited a fire he didn’t want to admit was there. Alex noticed the distance. And it hurt, more than he expected.

When they finally crossed paths in the hallway, their eyes locked.

“You stink,” Brian muttered.

“You’re not exactly a bouquet either,” Alex shot back, voice trembling.

He stormed off, angry—not just at Brian, but at himself for wanting the boy who hated him most.

The annual Moon Festival was a time for unity. A night when the Crescent Hollow pack came together under the full moon to honor peace among alphas, betas, and omegas. Bonfires were lit, drums echoed through the forest, and laughter filled the cool night air. Every pack member wore their best clothes, their best smiles, and their best masks of perfection.

Everyone, except Alex.

His mother had practically shoved him into a soft cream-colored shirt and pale blue jeans, fussing over his hair and appearance as though that would hide the fact that he’d just come out of his first full-blown heat the week before. Though his omega scent had finally leveled out, the memory of it—of the vulnerability, the burning need—still clung to him like smoke. He kept his eyes down, hands shoved into his pockets as he stepped into the clearing.

And then he saw him.

Brian.

Wearing black like a second skin, his shirt hugged the defined muscles of his chest and arms. The sleeves were rolled just enough to tease. His laughter was louder than the music, easy and magnetic, drawing attention like a flame draws moths. Surrounded by his friends, Brian looked as though he belonged to the night itself.

Alex’s breath hitched.

He wasn’t supposed to notice. He wasn’t supposed to care.

But the moment their eyes met across the fire, something shifted.

Brian stilled, his laughter fading instantly. He hadn’t sensed Alex arrive until his scent slipped past the smoke and straight into his lungs—a sweet, familiar whisper that gripped his core. Then, it hit him.

That pull.

That bone-deep, soul-aching tug in his chest that nearly brought him to his knees. His alpha instincts surged to the surface, screaming one word over and over.

Mate.

They stared at each other in stunned silence as the world blurred around them. The music, the crowd, the fire—everything disappeared. All that remained was the invisible thread between them, tugging tighter, calling louder.

Until pain struck.

Sharp, splitting pain in their heads and chests, like claws raking through their minds.

The bond wasn’t ready. Or maybe, they weren’t.

Alex clutched his chest and stumbled back.

Brian turned without a word and ran into the woods.

Alex did the same, darting in the opposite direction, his heartbeat a wild, confused drum in his ears.

⸻

Brian sat alone beneath the towering pines, fist buried in cold earth. Rage warred with confusion.

Why him?

Why Alex?

He was just his stepbrother. The annoying, sharp-tongued boy he clashed with daily. The one he mocked out of habit. But now his entire body burned with a need he couldn’t deny. Every instinct screamed to claim him, protect him.

Mine.

⸻

Alex locked himself in his room, slamming the door shut before collapsing onto his bed. He grabbed his sketchbook and tore page after page, each one filled with Brian—his eyes, his grin, his silhouette. He’d drawn him for years, always pretending it meant nothing. But now the truth clawed its way out of him.

They avoided each other for days after.

Rachel noticed the tension but shrugged it off as boys being boys. Daniel, on the other hand, wasn’t fooled. He cornered Brian behind the training shed one afternoon.

“You scenting someone?” he asked, arms crossed.

Brian’s eyes widened. “No. I mean—no one. I’m just… confused.”

Daniel didn’t look convinced. “Sometimes your mate isn’t who you want. Sometimes it’s who you need. The bond doesn’t care about what’s allowed.”

Brian looked away, jaw tight. He wanted to deny it. Pretend none of it was real.

But the ache in his chest told him otherwise.

The fight started over something stupid. A sandwich.

Alex stormed into the kitchen, slamming the fridge door with more force than necessary. “Did you eat my leftovers?” he snapped, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Brian looked up from his phone, lounging at the kitchen table with that same cocky smirk that always set Alex on edge. “It was just a sandwich.”

“It was my sandwich,” Alex growled, eyes narrowing. “I wrote my name on it. Twice.”

Brian rolled his eyes and tossed his phone onto the table. “God, you’re such a brat. Always so dramatic.”

Alex’s face flushed with heat. “You never take anything seriously, do you?”

“Oh, I do,” Brian said, standing slowly. “I take you seriously. You’re like a full-time job.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who runs every time things get real.” Alex stepped forward, their faces inches apart now. “Just say what you want to say already!”

Brian’s jaw clenched, muscles twitching. “I want you to shut the hell up for once.”

But his voice wavered.

Alex blinked, startled by the crack in Brian’s tone. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” Alex’s voice lowered, trembling with something deeper. “You act like you hate me, like you can’t stand being around me, but you keep looking at me like you want to—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Brian’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. In one sudden, fierce motion, he had Alex pinned against the fridge, his body caging him in. The cool metal pressed into Alex’s back, but all he could feel was Brian—his scent, his warmth, the tension radiating off him like a storm about to break.

“Don’t,” Brian warned, voice low and rough. “Don’t say it.”

His breath ghosted across Alex’s lips, barely a whisper of space between them.

“I don’t hate you,” he murmured.

Then he kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was raw, desperate, and full of everything they had buried—rage, fear, longing, denial. Alex gasped into it, heart racing, hands caught somewhere between pushing away and pulling closer. The world narrowed down to Brian’s mouth, Brian’s hands, the fire burning between them,it was intense.

And then it was over.

Brian pulled back like he’d been burned, eyes wide with horror.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking like glass. “I didn’t mean— I shouldn’t have—”

He stepped back, putting distance between them like space would undo what had just happened. Like he hadn’t just shattered every line they’d drawn between them.

Alex stood frozen, back still pressed to the fridge. His fingers rose slowly, brushing over his lips. They were still warm. Still tingling.

He wasn’t angry.

He just didn’t know how to breathe.

Brian turned and left, footsteps heavy as thunder down the hallway, leaving silence in his wake.

Alex slid down the fridge to the floor, knees pulled to his chest, heart pounding in his ears.

Everything had changed.

And neither of them could take it back.

To be continued……..