#alpha!kyle

Kyle’s instincts are fierce, the unmatched ability to unpick threats, effortlessly solving problems with rational logic. He's reserved, sensitive to the demands and needs of others. A natural born alpha, the most recent in his family, who’s life’s work has been to hone that ruthlessly wild streak that sometimes flares into life at the scent of prey.

Ruts come and go, there’s always a pretty omega or two happy to play host to him during those weeks, pleased to find themselves under Kyle’s lean form and skilful lips. He sinks knuckle deep inside them while they whine, they wet his ferocious appetite during that vicious, pulsing cycle of need, then he leaves with a gracious grin and a peck on their cheek.

He never marks them, has no desire to breed. Why would he sacrifice his hard earned position, ignore the god given talent he possesses for strategy? An effective alpha hones his skills, develops them, always pushing to become a better version. All the greats in his field are unattached and unattainable, it’s the job, a sacrifice you make to climb the ranks with grit.

Of course he’s been begged for that sweet pain, asked to slot his teeth into their necks and begin a lifetime connection to another. But Kyle has mastered his self control, tempting as it can be in the red hot fury of a rut, he’s never allowed himself to slide towards intimacy like that for even a fraction of a second.

His pheromones are deadly, sweet fragrant cinnamon and sunlit amber draws potential mates to him like moths to a flame. It’s a joke that Kyle has heard time and again. He smells good enough to devour. That warming heady scent he exudes turns most heads, vapid lust filling the eyes of omegas and betas in his vicinity.

But Kyle has never found another to captivate him. Stories of life-mates and soul bonds hold little meaning. He’s confident in the knowledge that, if the day comes when the finely tuned senses of his hindbrain kick in, he’ll be able to resist it entirely. Almost cockily he assures himself he’s dedicated, vision laser focused. No instinctual, baying emotional need could ever overwhelm that.

A regular Tuesday on base, the gym is stifling because the air conditioner is broken, so Kyle is almost dripping in his honeyed, intoxicating musk. Briefing is in ten minutes, no time to shower, his feet jogging an anxious pace against the tarmac while he checks his watch.

There’s something different in the air though, a poignantly mournful atmosphere that’s equal parts cloying and addictive. Kyle can feel it, the oxygen in his lungs vibrating as each molecule fills him up and evaporates, leaving him wanting for more before the last morsel has vanished.

Five minutes to spare, what’s the harm in checking it out, the reason for this newfound stimulation. Kyle follows the clawing curiosity edging it’s way through his brain, entering the mess hall under the pretext of grabbing a bite of toast, eyes darting into every corner while his mind swims.

As the wall of chatter hits him, a single solitary voice speaks out, loud enough to make him stop in his tracks. Calling him, reeling that primal function he has in, as if it’s held on a tremulous wire. Delicate in nature but powerful all the same, a connection to a single point somewhere in the echoing canteen.

Then it hits him, a tender fragrance of jasmine, the smell of rain falling gently on a summer night. Unbearably soft, basking in wanton sweetness. It makes the hairs on his neck stand on end, every sinew alive with heat, a snarling desperation to drown himself in the source of that perfume.

He can’t see, can’t think. It’s only that voice in his mind, driving him to his one goal, a new purpose to possess and claim like a feral creature made of teeth and claws. The only ounce of wisdom he has left, shouts that Kyle’s standing on the precipice of heaven and there’s no other option but to leap into the abyss.

When his eyes meet yours, he blinks frantically, throat tight and brow fevered. The nagging trigger of a rut blooming inside his chest. Never in his entire life has he experienced a blinding lust like it. It sparks a wildfire, out of control and all consuming, scorching through everything he believed he knew about himself.

“Hi.”

You smile. Oblivious to the situation unfolding in front of you, the man about ready to make you his for all to see and hear. He’d drag you back to his quarters now, if you weren’t sat with your friends, all of which are staring at him with obvious curiosity.

You sniff lightly, wondering why the scent around you is making your mouth water, and Kyle’s world just about dissolves there and then.

You’ll be Garrick’s in name and nature before the end of the week.