The doctor left quickly, and the outer lock clicked shut behind him. The room was a fully sealed bunker now.

Stuart carried Alexei to the couch and laid him on the pristine white medical sheet. The instant that low, lulling hum slipped away from his shoulder blades, panic washed back over Alexei. He gasped, his eyes flying open in fear, his fingers scrambling blindly across the sheet for warmth. The sudden contrast with the chilled air sent him into shivers. His uniform shirt, damp with sweat, clung unpleasantly to his fragile frame.

"Shh, shh." Stuart's murmur came right by his ear, quiet and low.

He shrugged off his blazer. The Kingsley jacket, still holding the heat of his large, toned body and thoroughly steeped in the soothing scent of hot wood, settled over Alexei, covering him from shoulders to knees. Stuart tucked the edges in, wrapping him inside that protective shell.

Catching the familiar warmth, Alexei buried his nose in the collar at once. The fabric was dense and solid, worn soft at the seams. The shaking began to ease. His omega instincts accepted the sign of protection, and his ragged breath slowly evened out, falling into step with the deep, steady breathing of the alpha beside him.

A deep, almost physical silence settled over the isolation room. The noise of the Academy stayed somewhere far away, beyond the sealed doors. Stuart sank down wearily onto the edge of the couch. The springs creaked faintly under his weight. Down to just his white shirt, stretched tight across his broad shoulders, he finally let himself loosen his tie.

Alexei slept, his nose buried deep in the collar of the blazer. Stuart sat still, unable to look away from his face. In the cool half-light, under the frosted glass, Alexei's features looked especially delicate, finely cut. His straight dark hair fanned out across the pillow, long lashes trembling in his sleep. The fair skin of his cheeks still carried the feverish flush of his first heat.

Stuart's gaze traveled slowly over him. For all his height, nearly matching Stuart's own, Alexei was thin-boned and narrow-shouldered, the fabric of his carefully tailored shirt crumpled now.

The nearness of a true omega pulsed through Stuart, heavy and dangerous, the rut stirred by that hypnotic gardenia rising in him like a hot wave. The ash-blond hair on his forearms stood up again, and his throat had gone dry. The scent thickened around him, some part of him demanding he lock the room from the inside and let no one else in. Forcing himself to breathe slow and even, he clenched his fists hard, careful not to frighten the sleeping boy with raw aggression. Faintly, his body began to hum again, settling into that same low, soothing rhythm.

Alexei stirred, his eyes opening slowly, unfocused, on the ceiling. He drew a deep breath through his nose and went still at once, catching the dense trail of hot wood, then turned his head to meet Stuart's gaze.

"Kingsley...?" His voice came out weak and hoarse. He tried to push himself up, but his long arms shook with weakness, and the blazer slid off his shoulder. Realizing he was wrapped in someone else's uniform, he fixed his hair, embarrassed.

"Stay down." Stuart held him back, resting a palm gently on his shoulder, his voice quiet. "Don't move around. You need to get your bearings first."

"Where are we?" Alexei looked around, taking in the dark panoramic windows, the frosted walls. "The medical wing? How long have I—"

"About half an hour." Stuart pulled his hand back, giving him space again. "You had a manifestation, Al. Late. Your scent filled the whole classroom."

Alexei went pale. Real fear crossed his eyes. Memory dragged back fragments of the Art History room: the broken pencil, the suffocating heat, Ryan Turner's cold stare, the wild panic of the noise. A small tremor ran through him again. He looked at Stuart's bare white shirt, then down at his own shoulders, wrapped in charcoal fabric.

"Thank you," he breathed, his voice returning to its usual softness. Embarrassed, he pulled the jacket a little closer to his face. "It smells like the forest. Cold."

Stuart opened his mouth to answer, but the outer door unlocked with a loud clunk.

Two people rushed in. Mikhail and Elena Kravtsov looked composed on the surface, but the fear showed underneath. Alexei's father, an alpha smelling of ozone and road dust, took in the whole scene at once, his gaze locking onto Stuart on the edge of the couch and the thick trail of cedar tangled with their son's gardenia. Elena, an omega, ignored the isolation rules completely and rushed straight to Alexei, touching his cool forehead.

"Alexei, my God..." She checked over his crumpled uniform fast. "Dr. Hayes called us. He said you were in crisis."

"Mom, Dad, I'm fine." Alexei tried to smile, pulling the blazer tighter around his chest.

Mikhail stepped forward, his large engineer's frame blocking out part of the light, and looked down at Stuart. The two alpha scents, ozone and Siberian cedar, clashed hard, heavy in the middle of the sterile room.

"You're Victor Kingsley's son?" His voice came out even, dry. His engineering training kept the panic out of it, but he felt the boy's dominant pressure at once. "The doctor said you locked the doors and refused to let my son go. Explain yourself."

He waited for an answer, his shoulders tensing under his coat, the sharp ozone growing noticeably stronger. Stuart began to rise from the couch. The veins stood out on his forearms. His eyes narrowed, fixing on the threat, and his voice was already dropping into that dangerous, growling register of a dominant guarding his territory. The air in the sealed room went dry and charged.