Before we ended up at the dean's office, this whole mess started in Professor Daniel's classroom. It was supposed to be a simple bonding exercise for the pairs in our Relationship Psychology elective — the official name was A Night of Cohabitation.
The idea? Spend two nights together in a "realistic domestic setting" to observe, record, and reflect on how alphas and omegas naturally interact when forced to share space overnight. According to Professor Daniel, it would help us practice conflict resolution, communication, and emotional intimacy.
Right. Emotional intimacy. With Kenan.
Of course, I tried to talk him out of it. The moment Professor Daniel finished explaining, I cornered him at his desk while everyone else buzzed excitedly about free resort rooms and romantic setups.
"Professor, I really think this one is unnecessary. Kenan and I don't even get along in broad daylight — we'll probably kill each other in a hotel room overnight. Can't we do an alternative report instead?"
Professor Daniel just smiled and that annoying, all-knowing smile that says I know better than you ever will.
"Ciro, you and Kenan need this more than any other pair in class. Trust me."
I did not trust him. At all.
I looked around . Everyone else was practically squealing about having a mini honeymoon with their partners. Except me. And Kenan, who was pretending to nap with his feet propped up on the desk behind me.
"I'll even write an essay twice as long!" I tried, desperate.
Professor Daniel just chuckled and patted my shoulder.
"Good luck, Ciro. Besides, you two got an upgraded suite compared to everyone else. Think of it as a prize. I'm sure you'll survive and learn something useful."
And that was that. No escape.
That was Monday. But I refused to let it ruin my week. If I was going to be trapped with Kenan, then at least it would be perfect on my terms. I stayed up two nights researching the resort: spas, breakfast buffets, poolside cabanas — all the relaxing stuff I deserved after surviving this semester with him. The only problem? Everything was designed for couples.
But there wasn't much to it. The dean barely looked up from his papers, just pointed at the forms and said, "Sign here and here."
Which
we both did, then immediately left his office, check-in information in hand.
I was probably too excited. I hadn't had a proper relaxing break in forever, and this was basically free. It was Friday, and the resort stay was for one day and two nights, which meant we were checking in tonight.
I'd planned every second of this weekend. If Kenan had his way, he'd sleep through the whole thing, so someone had to make sure we didn't waste it.
So here we were, standing in line at the resort check-in counter, my phone open with the entire itinerary laid out like a military mission.
Next to me, Kenan looked both bored and annoyed, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the bustling lobby.
"Oh my goodness, are you two here for the honeymoon special?" the receptionist squealed suddenly, loud enough that a few people turned to look.
Kenan's eyes flicked up, then straight back down to his phone.
I froze for half a second, then saw an opportunity.
"Obviously," I said sweetly, sliding my hand into his and lacing our fingers together before he could dodge. His head snapped up so fast I nearly laughed.
Kenan didn't say a word, but he didn't pull away either. His thumb twitched against mine like he was deciding if murdering me in public was worth it.
The receptionist squealed again, cheeks flushed pink.
"You two look so perfect together! Let me check if we have any upgrades available for you!"
I squeezed Kenan's hand. He shot me a look that said drop dead.
A minute later she returned, practically bouncing.
"Congratulations! You've been upgraded to our deluxe honeymoon suite, free of charge! It's part of our alpha-omega couple promotion this month."
Kenan opened his mouth, probably to correct her, but I squeezed his hand harder and stepped right in front of him.
"Thank you so much! You're an angel. Right, honey?"
I turned to him, batting my lashes.
He stared at me, then muttered, "Yeah. Great."
After the usual check-in routine, we were escorted to our upgraded room.
The suite was ridiculously over the top: rose petals scattered on the bed, a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket, a balcony overlooking distant hills glowing under the sunset. I was so pleased with myself I nearly forgot the real reason we were here, an assignment to strengthen our bond and practice cohabitation. Sure.
As night settled in, I went to the bathroom to put on my face mask. Kenan was already there, brushing his teeth.
I rolled my eyes and pulled out my entire skincare bag.
"Is privacy something ancient?" I heard him mutter beside me.
I paused mid-wipe. "What's so private about watching you shove a toothbrush halfway down your throat?"
With Kenan's back turned, I peeled open my mask pack and smoothed it onto my face, patting the leftover serum onto my hands.
"How long are you planning to brush that mouth?" I asked.
Kenan spun around to snap at me, then jumped back like I'd slapped him.
"Ciro! With a face like that, you can't just stand behind people "
Offended, I turned to the mirror to check myself.
"Oh, screw you. It's not that bad," I grumbled, adjusting the mask.
Kenan finished up, spat into the sink, and shot me one last glare before storming out. I zipped up my bag, grinning as an idea hit me.
"Kenan!" I yelled from the bathroom.
A few seconds later, he reappeared in the doorway, suspicious. I crooked my finger at him, come here.
He stepped closer, sighing like I was the worst thing to ever happen to him.
I whipped out the extra face mask from behind my back.
"I have a gift for that hard face of yours," I said, grinning.
He gave me a dead-eyed stare and turned half away.
"It's a nice idea for the journal, and we're taking a picture after," I sang.
He didn't argue this time and shuffled closer.
"Okay, wet your face a bit."
He obeyed, a little too well. He didn't just wet it; he drenched it.
"I said wet, not drown yourself," I snorted, handing him a towel.
I tore the pack open and carefully lined the mask up on his face, pressing the cool sheet to his skin.
"Keep it on for twenty minutes. Not that it'll help much."
He turned to leave but I blocked the doorway.
"Wouldn't it be cute if we wore matching pajamas?"
"No, Ciro. No, it would not be."
"Yes, it would!" I said, standing firm. Even though he could easily move me, I wasn't budging.
He looked me up and down, deadpan. "I'm not wearing pink strawberry pajamas, Ciro."
I laughed. "They're adorable! Just the pants, I swear. Please?"
Kenan stepped closer, leaning down until I could smell the faint spice of his pheromones.
"Come on. I'll do anything you ask for."
He stopped right in front of me, a small, sly smile tugging at his lips.
"Anything?"
"Of course, anything!"
He leaned even closer, his scent curling around me like warm smoke that made my skin heat up in contrast to the cooling mask.
"Then if I ask for a kiss, you'd give it to me?"
I scoffed, suddenly flustered.
"Anything has its limits."
He made an exaggerated disappointed sigh and reached for the door handle.
"Well, don't bother then."
"Fine! I'll do it!" I blurted, panicking. He froze, looked down at me, and suddenly I was caged between his arms and the door. My heart jumped, and I knew he could smell my pheromones that basically screamed I was nervous.
"J-just — I'll kiss you instead, but why a kiss? You could ask for literally anything else..." I stammered, eyes darting everywhere except at him.
"Why not? Your lips are soft and pretty."
Coming from him, someone who's called me every insult under the sun, it made me laugh, breathless.
"You sure it's not just my pheromones messing with you?"
He didn't answer, but his scent said plenty, swirling with mine, filling the bathroom with warmth and something dangerous. I leaned forward, just a little, and suddenly the distance between us felt like nothing at all.
My breath caught when he dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, low and hot. A shiver raced down my spine, but stubborn pride pinned my feet to the floor.
Before I could blink, his hand shot up, fingers curling firmly around my throat, not tight but enough that my pulse fluttered helplessly against his palm. My lips parted on a shaky breath.
His other hand tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my face up to his.
"Look at me."
I did — and regretted it instantly. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, and so close they burned right through every excuse I had left.
"Kenan—"
He cut me off, mouth crashing down onto mine. It wasn't gentle. His grip on my throat held me right where he wanted me while his mouth dragged a gasp out of mine, swallowing it greedily. I felt caged and claimed all at once.
His teeth grazed my bottom lip, teasing, warning, before his tongue pressed in, tasting, demanding. I barely remembered to kiss him back, clutching at his shirt with trembling fingers. He tugged my hair tighter and I whimpered into his mouth, heat flooding my chest.
When he finally pulled back, he didn't let go. His forehead rested against mine, breath ragged.
"Soft and pretty," he murmured again, thumb stroking the side of my throat where he'd held me. "Just like I said."
I tried to glare at him, but my knees were useless and my mouth was still parted for more.
"Asshole," I whispered, breathless.
He only smirked, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time but just as ruinous. Somewhere in the suite, my phone buzzed on the counter, the itinerary open and completely forgotten.