SURGING OF MEMORIES

Luna peeked cautiously into Valerian’s office, her breath catching. She couldn’t bring herself to step inside—not when he was flooding the room with pheromones so potent they made her skin prickle. She had to stay away; if he sensed her reaction, he’d figure out she was an omega, not the beta she’d pretended to be.

She frowned, wondering why her boss seemed so on edge. She’d returned to Lacrose that afternoon knowing he’d heard about the Philadelphia branch’s crisis, but that didn’t explain this storm of pheromones. “What’s gotten into him?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Does he even realize he’s saturating the whole office?” Carefully, she pulled the door shut and hurried back to her desk.

“Let’s avoid the alpha’s lair for now,” she muttered to herself. “His pheromones could trigger me, and he’d find out. He doesn’t hate omegas, but he refuses to interact with them. I can’t lose this job—not yet.”

Just then, the intercom on her desk beeped—a sound that made her stomach drop. Oh no, not that beep.

“Get in my office, Luna. Now.” Valerian’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

“Sorry, Mr. Rutherson, but I have so much work to finish—”

“I said get in here!” he snapped, cutting her off. “I have plenty of work too, and you’re my secretary. You come when I call. That’s your job.”

“I’ll count to five,” he continued, his tone cold. “If you’re not here by five, you’re fired. For real.” The intercom clicked off.

Furious, Luna let out a silent scream and stamped her foot on the floor before glaring at his office door. “Why can’t he just tone down those pheromones first? If I could slap my arrogant boss without getting fired, I would have done it on day one!” She stood up, her hands trembling with frustration.

Valerian thought she was a beta—someone who couldn’t smell or be affected by alpha or omega pheromones. But Luna was an omega, and his scent was already making her dizzy. You can do this, she told herself, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

She braced herself, then pushed open the door and walked straight into his office. Before she could even approach his desk, the wave of pheromones hit her full force. Her senses spiked—her smell, in particular, became so sharp she could practically taste the alpha’s dominance in the air. This is why I hate coming here, she thought, forcing her expression to stay neutral, as if she felt nothing at all.

“What d-do you need, Mr. Rutherson?” she asked, her voice steady despite the way her heart raced. Valerian sat behind his desk, his jaw tight with irritation.

“Clear all my schedule,” he ordered. “Don’t argue. I’m going home to rest.”

“O-Okay,” Luna agreed quickly, which made Valerian raise an eyebrow. The intensity of his pheromones softened slightly.

“You’re not going to lecture me? You’re letting me leave early?”

“Yes, Mr. Rutherson,” she said, forcing a smile. “You reviewed so many files yesterday. Our CEO deserves a break. I’ll handle what’s left. Anything else you need to say, sir?”

“That's all." Valerian muttered.

“Then ill go back on my desk.”

Luna bowed slightly and turned to leave. The moment she stepped out, her legs nearly gave out. She sank to the floor, her heart pounding and her body temperature rising—his pheromones had triggered a surge of arousal, and she could feel the first stirrings of heat. Gasping for air, she pushed herself up and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Once inside, she locked the door. She knew what she was about to do was indecent, but she had no choice—she needed to calm down. “Shit,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “This is that alpha’s fault! But why does his scent affect me so much? It shouldn’t be this intense—shit!” She sat on the closed toilet seat and began to touch herself, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the soft moans that escaped her.

Meanwhile, Valerian stared at his office door, confused by Luna’s sudden compliance. He’d expected an argument, not immediate agreement. Shrugging it off—he was too tired to question it—he stood up and realized he’d been releasing too many pheromones. “Damn it,” he muttered, reining them in. “She’s a beta. She didn’t smell any of that.” He grabbed his suit jacket and left the office.

In the hallway, he didn’t see Luna at her desk. But then he caught a faint scent—something like tangerines, sweet and familiar. He frowned, trying to place it. The smell seemed to be coming from the direction of the bathroom. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone buzzed. It was a text from his father’s butler, summoning him.

“What does he want now?” Valerian muttered, shoving the phone in his pocket. He brushed off the mysterious scent and headed for the elevator.

As he walked through the hotel lobby, guests and female staff glanced at him, their eyes filled with admiration. He ignored them, heading straight for the exit. But before he could reach his car, a man stepped in his way.

“Hi! I’m Marcus Sprint, a guest here. You’re Valerian Rutherson, right? I can smell your pheromones—I’m a dominant omega. Are you interested in making out with a male ome—”

“Get out of my face, you filthy omega,” Valerian snapped, his voice like ice. “I don’t care if you’re a guest. I’m not the kind of alpha who’s interested in omegas.”

Humiliated, Marcus hurried away. Valerian climbed into his car, muttering under his breath. “Shameless omegas.” He was about to start the engine when the tangerine scent from the office flashed in his mind.

Suddenly, fragments of a memory surfaced—eight years ago, a hotel room, his rut hitting hard, and a woman. An omega. He’d claimed her over and over, knotted her, and bitten her neck. His eyes widened in shock. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Did I bond with a female omega eight years ago?”

“Oh shit,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “I knotted her. Mated her. That means… there’s a chance she got pregnant.” The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he’d completely forgotten that night.

A chilling thought struck Valerian: the child who’d looked exactly like him as a boy could be his son—if the omega he’d spent that night with eight years ago had gotten pregnant.

“That kid said his mother works at my hotel,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “If my alpha instincts are right, the woman I fucked eight years ago is working under my very nose.”

Paranoia crept in, sharp and ugly. “If I bonded with her, and she knows I’m rich… she might be using the child for her own gain.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and called the hotel’s HR department.

“Send all resumes of female omega employees to my secretary by tomorrow,” he ordered, his voice cold and sharp. He ended the call before they could respond, then dialed Samuel.

“Before you ask about Mr. Howart’s body—” Samuel began.

“Fuck that, Samuel!” Valerian cut him off, his voice raw with disbelief. “I mated and bonded with an omega eight years ago. Damn it! I can’t believe I forgot that!"