Glint

Brandon adjusted the paintbrush in his hand, forcing himself to focus on the children's eager faces rather than his own trembling fingers. The craft tables buzzed with activity, pack Omegas moving between them with practiced ease. Benny's laughter rang out as he demonstrated pipe cleaner animals, his joy infectious.

Someone dumped a pile of plastic gems into a bowl at the edge of the table. An emerald one caught the sunlight, winking through the leaves above. Brandon's hand froze mid-stroke, a star half-painted on construction paper before him.

The green plastic shouldn't have mattered. Shouldn't have triggered anything. But the sparkle matched the earring Lex always wore - that cruel glint that had marked every 'training' session, every punishment, every—

Brandon's chest tightened, the children's laughter fading beneath the roar of blood in his ears. He could smell the musty darkness of the club's basement, taste the metallic tang of fear on his tongue. The emerald winked again, and suddenly he was back there, Lex's earring catching the dim light as he—

“Brandon?”

The brush slipped from his numb fingers, paint splattering across the half-finished star. His lungs burned. When had he stopped breathing?

"Hey, you smell wrong." Seth's voice cut through the fog, concern threading through his usual teenage bravado. The young Alpha shifted into Brandon's space, blocking the sun - and the emerald's mocking sparkle.

Brandon tried to speak, to wave off Seth's concern, but his throat had closed up. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Sugar helps sometimes," Seth muttered, digging in his pocket. "That's what Mom says anyway." He thrust out a handful of wrapped candies, his face scrunched with worry.

"Or we could just... breathe? I'm good at breathing. Been doing it for years." With a comically deep inhale, Seth puffed out his chest, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He held his breath for a beat before letting it out in a loud gust, his face turning red from the effort.

"I learned this from my mom, too." Seth explained between breaths, watching how Brandon's pulse fluttered visibly at his throat. "She said deep breathing helps when Omegas are stressed." The word 'Omegas' rolled off his tongue with an odd emphasis, like he was tasting it.

Brandon felt a flicker of surprise at Seth's understanding, unaware of how the young Alpha was cataloging his every weakness, like a predator learning where best to sink its teeth.

Seth's presence was simultaneously comforting and... something else. Something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The young Alpha's scent had shifted, turning sharp and pointed like needles against Brandon's skin. It reminded him of broken glass - beautiful but dangerous.

The young Alpha opened one crystal blue eye to peek at Brandon, a small grin spreading across his face. "You're supposed to do it with me," he teased, but there was an edge to his voice - a hint of command that didn't quite match his playful tone. His scent spiked again, metallic and keen, like a blade being sharpened.

With a shaky breath, Brandon attempted to mimic Seth's actions. He drew in a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before releasing it slowly. The air filled with the faint scent of summer flowers and fresh grass as he focused on each breath. Seth inhaled deeply, almost greedily, as if trying to capture Brandon's scent, his own pheromones turning jagged with barely contained excitement.

"Better?" Seth asked, breaking their silence. His voice was softer now, gentle in a way that seemed practiced rather than natural.

Brandon nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah," he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. "Thanks."

Seth beamed at him, the grin transforming his face from an awkward teenager into a genuinely kind young Alpha. But something in Brandon's gut twisted - a warning signal. The way Seth's scent kept shifting between sharp glass and sweet concern... it reminded him of something. Someone.

"So what are you trying to make?" Brandon forced himself to ask, desperate to ignore how Seth's scent made his skin prickle with unease.

The blonde held up the paper. "It's supposed to be a sunset, but it looks more like someone sneezed paint onto the paper." Seth's nose wrinkled as he turned the paper sideways. "See?"

A small laugh escaped Brandon's lips, surprising him. "That's... actually kind of accurate." The sound of his own laughter felt wrong somehow, but he couldn't explain why.

Seth grinned and scooted closer, his sharp scent intensifying. "Show me how to fix it? Please?" His eyes tracked Brandon's every movement with an intensity that seemed beyond simple artistic interest. He studied Brandon's hands as they moved across the paper, noting how they trembled slightly, cataloging every flinch and hesitation.

"Your hands shake a lot," Seth observed softly, almost to himself. "Is that from fear?" There was something clinical in his curiosity, something that made Brandon's skin crawl. The young Alpha's fingers twitched, as if imagining what it would feel like to grab those trembling wrists and squeeze until the shaking stopped.

Brandon's mouth went dry at Seth's question. The young Alpha's intense stare felt like a physical weight, pressing against his chest. He focused on the paintbrush in his hand, watching a drop of blue paint slowly roll down the handle.

"I..." Brandon's voice cracked. The question wasn't normal - wasn't something a teenager should ask with such calculated interest. His instincts screamed at him to move away, but Seth had positioned himself to block any escape route.

He was being paranoid again, wasn't he? Reading threats where there were none. After all, Seth was just a kid. Just a newly presented Alpha trying to figure out his place. The fact that Seth's scent reminded him of shattered glass and fresh blood... that was just his damaged mind playing tricks again.

Besides, Brandon's instincts had been wrong before. Broken. Damaged. Like everything else about him.

Seth leaned in closer, his sharp scent wrapping around Brandon like barbed wire disguised as silk.

"You're really good at this," he murmured, but his eyes weren't on the paper anymore. They were fixed on Brandon's throat, watching his pulse jump beneath his skin. His nostrils flared slightly, drinking in Brandon's distress like it was his favorite video game, something he could play over and over until he got the high score. "I bet you're good at lots of things when you're scared."

Brandon's heart hammered against his ribs. Seth's words slithered across his skin, leaving trails of ice in their wake. The young Alpha's scent had transformed completely now - no longer the awkward mix of teenage uncertainty, but something calculated and sharp.

"I should check on Mike," Brandon managed, his voice barely above a whisper. He started to rise from his seat, but Seth's hand shot out, gripping his wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make a point.

"We're not done with our painting lesson," Seth said, his tone light and playful even as his fingers tightened fractionally. His crystal blue eyes sparkled with something that looked like curiosity but felt like hunger. "You don't have to be scared of me." The words came out soft, almost gentle, but his scent was sharp. "I only want to learn everything about you."

Brandon's chest constricted as memories of another voice, another hand, threatened to overwhelm him. The plastic emerald caught the light again, winking like a cruel promise.

Zack's feet crunched on the gravel path as he approached the craft table, his gaze zeroing in on Brandon's tense form. Seth's presence, the sharp scent of his pheromones, had Zack's protective instincts surging. He could practically taste the younger Alpha's aggression, see it in the rigid set of Brandon's shoulders.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Zack asked, his voice a low rumble. He positioned himself beside Brandon, a protective stance beside the Omega.

Seth looked up, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with a mix of defiance and excitement. "Just learning some painting tricks," he said, holding up the paper with a smirk. "Brandon's a great teacher."

Zack glanced at the paper, then at Brandon. The Omega's face was pale, his hazel eyes wide and glassy. Something was off.

Zack's gaze dropped to where Seth's fingers wrapped around Brandon's wrist. The younger Alpha's grip wasn't overtly aggressive, but the possessive intent was clear. Brandon's pulse fluttered visibly beneath Seth's fingers, his scent soured with distress. Something primitive stirred in Zack's chest at the sight.

"We're about to start a volleyball game," Zack said, focusing his attention on Seth. "You should join us. Show off those Alpha reflexes."

The challenge in Zack's invitation hung in the air, but Seth made no move to accept it.

"I think I'll pass," Seth said, leaning closer to Brandon. "I'm learning some really interesting things here." His voice dropped lower, meant only for Brandon's ears. "Besides, volleyball's for kids. I'm not a kid anymore."

The pressure of the young Alphas fingers against his pulse point felt deliberate, measuring each rapid beat. Brandon glanced between the two Alphas, sensing the growing tension.

Zack's muscles coiled, a growl building in his chest as he watched Seth's fingers press into Brandon's skin. The younger Alpha's scent spiked with challenge, sharp and metallic. Red tinged the edges of Zack's vision. His body shifted, preparing to tear Seth's hand away from what was his-

"You should go play," Brandon said, gently extracting his wrist from Seth's grip. "Volleyball's fun—you'd be good at it." He forced a smile, desperate to put distance between himself and the young Alpha's disturbing intensity.

Seth's eyes narrowed slightly, studying Brandon's face with uncomfortable precision. "You think so?" There was something calculating in his tone, as if Brandon's encouragement was a puzzle piece he needed to fit into some larger design.

"Definitely," Brandon nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're tall, quick reflexes. Perfect for volleyball."

Seth straightened, puffing his chest slightly. "I am pretty athletic," he admitted, his gaze sliding to Zack then back to Brandon. "You'll watch, right? See what I'm capable of?"

The question carried a weight that made Brandon's stomach twist. There was something beneath the words—a challenge, a test—that felt like stepping onto thin ice.

"Sure," Brandon managed, though the word felt like glass in his throat.

Seth's smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "Then I'll play." He stood, rolling his shoulders back. "I'll score more points than anyone else," he declared, eyes fixed on Brandon. "Then you'll see what a real Alpha looks like." He shot Zack a dismissive glance before striding toward the volleyball court, determination radiating from his lanky frame.

As Seth walked away, his shoulders squared with newfound purpose, Brandon released a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"You okay?" Zack asked softly, stepping closer.

Brandon nodded, not meeting Zack's gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... just tired."

"He's just learning to handle his presentation," Zack said, his voice gentle. "New Alphas struggle with their instincts at first. The pheromones, the territorial urges - it takes time to get it under control."

Brandon nodded, but his shoulders remained tense. He knew Zack was trying to help, to explain away the predatory gleam in Seth's eyes. But something deeper, something broken inside him recognized that look. Had seen it before in others who'd—

"Want to watch me play?" Zack asked, his eyes soft with genuine invitation.

Brandon's heart fluttered at the request. "I'd love to," he said, and meant it. His hands gestured to the craft supplies scattered across the table. "Just let me clean this up first?"

"Take your time." Zack's fingertips brushed Brandon's arm as he turned toward the volleyball court.