11. Just as he’d finished uttering his demand to get to the school—just as he’d stepped back from his Head of Servants at the sense of warning that had so wholly plagued him through the mark at that moment—Kento’s molten, feral eyes had flashed open, the thick off scent of pure discomfort suffusing the air in the hall and nearly suffocating them both.
His Head of Servants had nearly fallen into the wall behind her at the intensity of blond’s heftily swirling aura, the surprised yelp she’d let out in covering her nose having only sharpened the omega’s focus on her even more.
Instinct had quickly built a low rumble in the alpha’s chest at that. Low, warning. Thankfully, it was enough. The omega had stilled in his hold, turned into his chest and buried his nose at the alpha’s shoulder with nothing more than a shudder.
Satoru had experienced an awful, silent relief.
Yet his heart had continued its hard, thumping tempo and cool fear had remained in his throat. Reality revisited him with a cry.
His mate. Something was wrong with his mate.
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