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A single whiff of honey and cinnamon pheromones sends Phuwin—Thailand's sweetheart, a dominant Omega—fleeing through the streets in a hoodie and mask, his heat crashing down mid-panic. He collides with Pond, the country's most notorious Alpha rapper, who catches him by the waist and demands a meal for the trouble. One touch, one stare, and Phuwin's restraint shatters.
Phuwin's sneakers skid on the sidewalk as he bolts from the alley, hood up, mask tight, but the honey-cinnamon pheromones pour off him like smoke. He crashes into a wall of muscle—Pond, phone still at
Phuwin stumbles out of the taxi, shoves bills at the driver, and half-runs into Fourth's building, his hand pressed hard between his thighs. He gets the key from the front desk, rides the elevator up
Phuwin wakes in Fourth's spare room, the memory of his own wrecked voice—'Pond'—hitting him like a slap, and he groans, kicking his feet until he tumbles off the bed, tangled in sheets. His phone buzz
Phuwin is licking melting vanilla off his thumb by the ice cream truck when Fourth's laughter cuts off—Pond is already there, crowding into his space, sandalwood and cedar curling under Phuwin's nose