The Enigma's Gentleness

kitchen with a clarity that felt fucking offensive after the dark, jagged mess of the previous forty-eight hours. The air didn't smell like ozone or desperation anymore; it smelled like expensive coffee, sizzling fat, and a domestic peace that felt like a goddamn miracle.

Shen and Liang were perched on the marble kitchen island, side-by-side. The tension from the balcony had settled into a comfortable, low-frequency hum. Shen was leaning back on his elbows, his iridescent violet eyes tracking the movement at the stove.

Hua Yong and Wenlang were a sight to behold. The Reaper and the King—the two most feared men in the city’s underground—were currently arguing over the structural integrity of a fried egg.

"I’m telling you, A-Yong, if you flip it now, the yolk is going to be a fucking disaster," Wenlang laughed, ducking under Hua Yong’s massive arm to steal a piece of crispy bacon. His gold eyes were bright, crinkling at the corners with a soul-deep happiness.

"And I’m telling you to get your royal hands off the meat before I cook them too," Hua Yong rumbled, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. He caught Wenlang by the waist, pulling him back against his chest with a possessive ease that screamed ten years of marriage. He whispered something into Wenlang’s ear that made the King let out an undignified snort of laughter.

They were being "lovey-dovey"—a disgusting, beautiful display of what happens when two monsters actually find their goddamn center.

Shen watched them, a small, uncharacteristic smile tugging at his lips. It was a sharp, biting envy that settled in his gut—not the kind that wanted to destroy, but the kind that wanted to replicate. He wanted the jokes. He wanted the way his fathers breathed in the same rhythm without even trying.

He glanced at Liang. The Alpha was leaning forward, laughing his head off at a particularly stupid pun Wenlang had just dropped. Liang’s silver-gold eyes were glowing, his face flushed with the kind of pure, unguarded joy that made Shen’s heart do a shitty violent, painful somersault.

He’s so fucking clueless, Shen thought, his gaze softening. He thinks this is just a good morning. He doesn’t see the path I’m trying to build for him.

Then, Shen’s eyes snagged on the collar of Liang’s shirt. It had shifted, revealing the jagged, bruised edge of the bite mark from two nights ago. It looked angry against Liang’s tan skin—a violent reminder of the Enigma’s loss of control.

His smile vanished.

"No," Shen spoke up, his voice cutting through the laughter like a blade. "That won't do. Liang, you're not going to school like this. Stay the fuck here."

The kitchen went dead fucking silent. Wenlang paused with a spatula in mid-air; Hua Yong’s violet eyes narrowed, tracking his son. Liang blinked, his laughter dying.

"What? Shen, it’s fine, I can just wear a hoodie—"

"I said stay put," Shen murmured, his voice a low, intense promise.

He returned five minutes later with a professional-grade medical kit. He didn't look at his parents. He reached out, his hands steady, and gripped Liang’s shoulders. He spun the Alpha around on the barstool until they were chest-to-chest, Liang’s knees bracketed by Shen’s thighs.

With a softness that Liang had never fucking seen, like ever, Shen began to clean the wound. His fingers were light, ghost-like. He was focused, his violet eyes locked on the task as if the skin of Liang’s neck was the most precious thing in the world.

Liang froze. He could feel Shen’s breath on his skin, could smell the ozone and dark chocolate scent of the Enigma wrapping around him like a silk shroud. A weird, fluttery giddiness rose up in his chest. It’s just Shen being weirdly fucking nice, Liang told himself, his silver eyes dazed. Don't dwell on it.

The fucking idiot still didn't have a clue.

Shen finished applying the salve, his thumb lingering for a split second on the pulse point of Liang’s neck. He looked up, his eyes wide and filled with a raw, terrifying honesty. "Fuck, Liang," Shen whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m so fucking sorry. I promise... I will never hurt you like this again."

The family—Hua Yong, Wenlang, ShaYou, and Gao Tu—watched in silence. They didn't tease. They saw the shift in the air that Liang was too blind to notice. Shen caught Gao Tu’s eye and nodded. He understood now: the "little things" were the bricks used to build a fortress an Alpha would want to stay in, not just be trapped in.

"Okay," Shen murmured, stepping back an inch. "Don't touch it. I mean it, Liang. Not until tonight."

Liang let out a breath, he didn't know he was fucking holding, his internals spinning. "Right. Thanks. I'm going to eat before I pass out from the scent of that bacon."

His movements were frantic, clumsy with the residual haze of Shen's touch. As he tried to rotate the barstool, his foot slipped on the slick marble. He didn't just twist—he stumbled.

Liang’s massive frame collided with Shen’s chest. The impact drove the Enigma backward. Shen’s boots lost traction. He went down hard, his back hitting the marble with a thud that echoed through the kitchen.

Liang fell right after, landing on top of him.

The kitchen went dead again. They were tangled. Shen was on his back, dark hair messy against the stone. Liang was pressed flat against him, their legs entwined. The scent of them—cedar, sunlight, ozone, and a violent, triumphant surge of the bond—exploded in the space.

Shen’s heart goddamn detonated. Every animal instinct he’d been suppressing for days fucking screamed. Having his mate’s weight pinning him to the floor wasn't a "domestic accident"—to his Enigma, it was an invitation.

Liang stared into those violet eyes, feeling the heat. That giddy feeling wasn't a buzz anymore; it was a roar. He didn't know what it was. But as he looked at Shen’s dazed, vulnerable expression, he realized that if he dwelt on it, he might realize what the Enigma already knew.

They were fate. And they were currently holding it together on the a fucking kitchen floor.

The silence was broken by the frantic, thudding rhythm of two hearts. Shen could feel the panic bleeding off Liang, a silver-laced energy that tasted like fear. It made Shen’s inner Enigma growl in a way that felt dangerously fucking unstable.

In a blur of predatory reflex, Shen scooped Liang up, setting him back on his feet before the Alpha could gasp. Shen stood there, his violet eyes wide and blown out, the pupils swallowing the color. He was trembling. His skin felt like it was being fucking scorched.

"S... sorry," Shen rasped. "I need a minute. Just... fucking stay here."

He bolted.

Hua Yong’s eyes sharpened. He’d seen the shift—the way the air had suddenly curdled into a thick, suffocating musk. He dropped the spatula, his expression hardening into a mask of cold parental focus. Without a word, the Reaper followed.

At the far end of the hallway, behind the reinforced mahogany door of a soundproofed suite, Shen was collapsing. Hua Yong stepped inside, the door clicking shut like a gunshot.

Then, Shen exploded.

His pheromones fucking burst out in a visible wave of violet static. Shen doubled over, his knuckles turning white as he gripped a marble vanity, the stone beginning to hairline-crack under his powerfull strength.

"Why?" Shen ground out. "Dad, what the fuck is this? My cycle isn't for another month!"

Hua Yong stood in the center of the storm, his own aura grounding the room. "It’s not a standard cycle, Shen. You spent three days hollowing yourself out with that 'Void' strategy. You pushed your bond to the breaking point, and then you just let him fall on you while his scent was coating your skin."

Hua Yong stepped closer. "Your biology is reacting to the stress. It’s a Seeking Mate Disorder. Your Enigma thinks the bond is under threat because of the distance you've been forcing. It’s triggered an early Rut to force a permanent claim. If you walk out there now, you won't be able to stop yourself from taking him by force."

Shen let out a guttural growl, his head snapping back. "I can't... I can't do that to him."

"Then you're staying in this room," Hua Yong said, his voice hard as iron.

Then he squeezed his son's shoulder, and stepped out.

•••

Afther a good 20 minutes, a sound.

Outside, the scuff of boots stopped at the door.

"Shen?" Liang’s voice was muffled. "Hey, man. My dads are being real pricks. They’re dragging me out the door. They said you’re... sick? Anyway, I'm heading to school. I’ll come see you tonight, okay? Catch you later!"

The sound of Liang’s retreating footsteps was the final twist of the knife. The fucking idiot was walking away, completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend was being eaten alive by a fucking biological hunger for him.

Shen’s head thudded against the door, a single, hot tear of fucking frustration carving a path through the sweat on his face. He fucking hated this.

"Tonight," Shen murmured. "Yeah tonight."