Page 2 of My Defiant Mate
I can't move. I can't breathe. My heart pounds so hard I think it might break my ribs. My scent blockers, the ones I apply with religious precision every morning, have failed. They must have. Because I can smell my own scent rising to meet his—clean linen, fresh paper, and a deeper, sweeter note I've spent my whole life trying to suppress. Omega.
Mate.
The word explodes in my mind, a terrifying, undeniable truth.
No. No, this isn't happening. This can't be happening.
But the air between us feels thick, heavy with a chemistry so strong I swear I can almost see it. Part of me wants to turn and run, to get as far away as possible. The other part—the part I've always kept locked down—wants to step closer, to press my face against his neck and breathe him in until I drown.
"You're…" His voice is a rough, stunned whisper.
I try to speak, to salvage some piece of my reality, but my throat has closed up.
His nostrils flare. He takes a half-step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "I know you," he says, and it's not a recognition of my role as his RA. It's something deeper. Fated.
"I—I'm here about the noise complaint," I finally force out. The words sound pathetic, ridiculous. A noise complaint, when I can't even feel the floor under my own feet anymore.
"Noise," he repeats, the word a foreign object in his mouth. Then his eyes clear with a different kind of recognition, and a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face, making the fireinside me burn hotter. "Right. You're the RA. The one who keeps leaving those little notes."
"Official warnings," I correct on instinct, and immediately want to die of embarrassment.
He lets out a low laugh that vibrates right through me. "Official warnings," he echoes, taking another step. He's so close now I have to tilt my head back to look at him. "What happens if I get too many of those, RA…?"
"Song-Gi," I supply, my voice thin. "Toby Song-Gi."
"Toby," he says, and my name on his tongue is an intimate caress, a brand. "So what happens, Toby?"
"Disciplinary action," I manage, the words embarrassingly breathless. "Potential… expulsion from university housing."
"Mmm." His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes. "Sounds serious."
"It is serious," I insist, my authority a shredded flag in a hurricane. "This is the third violation this week, and—"
"Whatareyou?" he interrupts. He takes a half-step closer. "You smell like… fuck. You smell like home."
I feel my face burning. This isn't him. This can't be him. I am Toby Song-Gi, the RA. I am order. I am rules. I do not have a primal, biological meltdown in the hallway over a resident. Especially notthisresident.
"That's—that's not relevant," I stammer, even as my body screams that it's the only relevant thing in the universe.
He takes another step forward, closing the space between us until I'm forced to take a step back, my shoulders hitting the cool wall of the hallway. He cages me in, one hand slamming flat against the wall beside my head. The sound makes me jump.
"Feels pretty fucking relevant to me," he growls, his stormy eyes fixed on me. "And you know it, too."
I do. God help me, I do. Every cell in my body is screamingyes, mine, finally.
"This is inappropriate," I say, my voice a weak protest against the overwhelming certainty in his eyes. "I'm your RA. There are rules—"
"Rules?" His laugh is rough. "You think there are rules for this?" He leans in, his heat washing over me, his scent clouding my thoughts. "You know what this is. You feel it."
The lie dies before I can even form it. I give a small, helpless nod.
His other hand comes up, fingers hovering an inch from my cheek. The air crackles between his skin and mine. "Can I?" he asks, his voice suddenly soft, almost hesitant.
That one question breaks me. That sliver of control he's offering me in the middle of this biological tidal wave. I should say no. My future, my scholarship, my entire carefully planned life depends on me saying no.
"Yes," I breathe.
The moment his fingers touch my skin, electricity shoots through me. His thumb traces my cheekbone with a shocking gentleness that doesn't match the feral possession in his eyes.
