When Ethan offered to peel the shrimp for Helena, she simply rolled her eyes, her face tight with annoyance. He could feel her resentment radiating across the table, but her attitude didn't bother him—her opinion had never mattered.
What startled him was Viona's reaction.
Viona glanced at Ethan, then at his plate, which was still piled high with food. Before Helena could utter a word, Viona spoke up, her voice tinged with offense.
"No need. Finish your own bowl completely. Don't leave a single bite. I'll take care of this."
Ethan felt a sudden wave of understanding, but he quickly shook the thought away, telling himself he was overestimating his own importance. Silently, he went back to his food. He knew Viona was desperate to feed him up so he wouldn't look so painfully skinny, but his appetite was entirely gone. Still, forcing himself, he managed to clear his plate.
By the time he finished, Helena was happily eating her shrimp, and Viona had just finished peeling them.
I should have peeled them beforehand, Ethan thought, a wave of regret washing over him. If I had, none of this would have happened. But it was too late now.
Viona turned to him with a soft smile and picked up a few more shrimps, beginning to peel them. Ethan felt a pang of guilt watching her work so hard for another Omega, feeling as though all her attention had been entirely stolen away. Yet, the sadness didn't run deep. He had long believed that nothing in this world truly belonged to him. He was always ready to give things up, firmly reminding himself never to be greedy.
"Here..."
Ethan was pulled from his daze as three cleanly peeled shrimps were dropped into his empty bowl.
The last ones she peeled had been for him. A wave of embarrassment hit him, and despite his best efforts to suppress it, his cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson.
How adorable, Viona thought, watching him.
Wow... he's actually blushing.
Mark, who had been secretly watching Ethan from across the table, felt his breath catch for a split second. Objectively, Ethan didn't meet a single one of Mark's usual standards for an Omega. Yet, looking at that flushed face, Mark felt an intense, almost bewitching attraction.
Ethan looked fragile. Easy to bully. Mark felt a dark urge rise within him—he wanted to dominate him, to force him down until he begged like a real Omega. His mind quickly spiraled into lustful imagery, wondering what kind of undone, breathless expressions Ethan would make in bed. Viona sat right beside them, completely oblivious to the malice and desire brewing in her friends' minds. She truly had no idea who they really were.
"I'm going to wash my hands," Viona said, standing up after finishing the last shrimp.
The moment she stepped out of the dining room, a cold knot formed in Ethan's stomach. He instantly regretted not following her. Being left alone with the two of them felt dangerous.
"When did you two first meet?" Mark asked the moment Viona was out of earshot.
Ethan went rigid, but he forced out an answer, keeping his eyes glued to the table to avoid Mark's intense glare. "It hasn't been long. About a month before the wedding."
"So, does it feel good to get fucked by her?"
The crude, sudden question hit Ethan like a physical blow. His hands clenched into tight fists beneath the table as he struggled to maintain his composure. It was a deeply sensitive, uncomfortable topic for him, and Mark's mocking tone began to overlap with dark echoes from his past—reminiscent of the same cruel words he had heard once before.
Ethan remained entirely silent, refusing to give him a reaction. His silence only provoked Mark further.
"Don't want to talk about it? Fine." Mark smirked, turning his attention back to his food just as Viona walked back into the room.
Because Ethan wore a mask of perfect calm, Viona didn't notice a thing. Part of Ethan desperately wanted to tell her what her friend had just whispered, but a harsh reality stopped him: Would she even believe me? They had been friends for years. Why would she take the word of someone she had only known for a month over the people she trusted completely?
Resigned to his isolation, Ethan swallowed the humiliation and kept it to himself.
After dinner, Viona suggested they have some ice cream for dessert. While the three of them talked in the living room, Ethan excused himself to the kitchen to scoop the portions. Not long after, Helena casually announced she was going to help him. Sensing no malice, Viona let her go.
A few moments later, a sharp cry echoed from the kitchen.
Here we go, Mark thought, a thrill of excitement shooting through him. He knew Helena was planning something, but he hadn't expected her to move this fast.
Viona and Mark hurried into the kitchen to find Ethan standing frozen, an ice cream spoon trembling in his hand, while Helena stood before him in tears.
"What happened?" Viona demanded.
Helena immediately rushed to Viona's side, sobbing as she pointed to a massive ice cream stain ruining her dress.
Viona looked past her, fixing her eyes directly on Ethan. "What happened?"
Ethan lowered the spoon, glancing at a secretly smirking Helena before looking back at Viona. He hesitated. "I'm sorry... my hand slipped."
What else could he say? If he told the truth—that Helena had walked up, grabbed his hand, and intentionally smeared the ice cream on herself—it would sound entirely absurd. Apologizing and taking the blame was a routine he knew all too well.
Taking his words at face value, Viona didn't suspect a plot. Accidents happened.
"Okay, okay, don't cry," Viona comforted gently, guiding Helena away. "I'll lend you something of mine to change into. Let's go."
As Viona led Helena toward the dressing room, Ethan was left behind in the kitchen. But he wasn't alone.
"So, you really are marked by her," Mark purred, closing the distance between them. He reached out and aggressively yanked Ethan's collar down, exposing the fresh bite mark on his neck. "Now tell me, since we're alone. Does it feel good to get fucked by her? Or... do you only like women inside you?"
Mark kept advancing, backing Ethan up until his spine hit the edge of the kitchen counter. He was completely trapped.
Yet, because Ethan was already claimed and marked, Mark's dominant Alpha pheromones had absolutely no effect on him. For the first time, Ethan realized the true, protective power of a bond. It filled him with an aching desire to be fully, permanently marked by Viona as soon as possible.
"Hey! Are you spacing out on me?" Mark snapped, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive whisper. "Do you want to try it with me? I know exactly how to please an Omega. Every single one I've had has begged for more. What do you say? Viona never has to know. I can give you a much better time..."
Ethan froze in sheer horror as Mark's hand began to slide up his neck.
Panicking, Ethan began to struggle, shoving at Mark's chest, but the Alpha's grip was unyielding. Mark's hot breath fanned against his skin, sending a wave of absolute revulsion through Ethan's entire body. This was nothing like Viona's touch. This felt filthy.
Suddenly, Ethan stopped moving. Mark flinched, freezing in place right along with him.
The heavy, suffocating scent of sweet vanilla suddenly flooded the air.
It was the unmistakable smell of an Omega's pheromones—but it wasn't normal. It was thick, wild, and intoxicating. The distinct, desperate scent of an Omega crashing into sudden heat.
But it wasn't coming from Ethan.
There was only one other Omega in the house.
Helena.