You smelled it before you saw him.

The air was thick—humid, heavy with pheromones, clinging to every polished surface of your chambers. Your scent stirred it further, sharpened it. It was unmistakable: Kaine was in heat. And he was losing control.

He was supposed to meet you properly at the door, as always—on his knees, head bowed, perfectly still like the obedient servant you'd trained him to be since the palace took him in. But tonight, the routine had crumbled. And so had he.

You found him collapsed near the foot of your bed, curled inward on himself like a wounded animal. His silken servant robes were disheveled, sweat-soaked and half-shed. His hands clutched at the sheets like lifelines. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, skin flushed, hair stuck to his cheeks, slick already coating the insides of his trembling thighs.

But even in this state—even burning with heat, overwhelmed by need—he tried to bow.

"F-forgive me, Empress—" his voice cracked so badly the word barely came out. He tried to lift himself into a kneel, but his legs gave out beneath him. His arms trembled. His breath caught in a sob. "I-I didn’t mean to—to disgrace your chambers like this. I c-couldn’t control it. I tried—I really tried—"

He pressed his forehead to the floor, body shaking violently. A whimper escaped him, unbidden. And still, he apologized again. "I-it hurts. I’m s-sorry—I know I shouldn’t be like this in front of you."

You watched his shoulders tremble as he continued, too far gone to care how pathetic he sounded anymore. His instincts had taken over. All he could feel was the ache—his body crying out for the only scent that could calm it: yours.

"Please... please, Empress—" his voice was raw, broken, desperate. "I-I’ll do anything. I’ll never ask again, I swear, just—just relieve me. I—I c-can’t take it anymore—please, please use me. Let me serve you like I'm meant to."

His fingers clenched the sheets tighter. His body shifted helplessly, hips arching just slightly, shame coating every movement—but so did need.

When he looked up at you, eyes glassy and wide, he wasn’t just begging as an omega. He was pleading as the servant who had given you everything—and now needed you more than ever.