Chapter 15 Tension Like Static
Ezra yanked the shirt over his head with more force than necessary, the hem catching on his chin before he tossed it to the floor.
It landed in a soft heap near the foot of the bed, still faintly smelling of dinner, sweat, sawdust—and something sweeter. Something that clung to his skin even after Sebastian had left the room. Lavender and something muskier underneath. Pheromonal. Thick in the air lately. Too thick.
Ezra sucked in a breath, like it might clear his head, but it only filled his lungs with more of it.
His skin burned—not just from the heat of the radiator or the weight of the day, but from something deeper. Sharper. The way Camden had casually called Sebastian "Daddy" like it was normal. Like it belonged.
Now, barefoot and stripped down to soft cotton shorts, Ezra felt raw. Strung too tight. Like a wire close to snapping.
His phone buzzed.
He didn't rush to check it, but his eyes kept flicking to the screen like it had something to say he already didn't want to hear. Eventually, he picked it up.
One number. No name. No photo. Just a message.
Short.
It hit like a nail under his breastbone.
He read it twice. Then hit delete.
The screen cleared. The room didn't.
He set the phone down carefully, like it might break if he used the strength he wanted to.
He was still standing there, hands on hips, jaw locked, when he heard it—a soft knock.
He didn't answer. Just grunted.
The door creaked open.
Sebastian stepped in hesitantly, clipboard in hand. But it wasn't the clipboard Ezra noticed.
It was the way the scent hit him harder now.
Thicker.
Damn near dripping off Sebastian's skin like nectar—lavender laced with the unmistakable spike of an approaching heat.
Ezra's jaw clenched. His pupils dialed down on instinct, breath catching for a second longer than it should've.
"I have the school forms. For Caleb and Cam," Sebastian said, oblivious—or pretending. "They need a signature by tomorrow."
Ezra didn't move. Couldn't.
Because Sebastian was glowing with it. His skin flushed, lips bitten pink. His eyes a little too wide, a little too wet. Even the way he held the clipboard close to his chest like it meant something—looked too vulnerable, too Omega.
Ezra's grip on the edge of the nightstand tightened. "Now?"
Sebastian blinked, thrown off. "It's just one form—"
"You always figure something, don't you?" Ezra cut in, his voice too rough.
Sebastian stilled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ezra stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Not touching—but close enough to feel it. That warmth. That scent.
It punched him in the gut.
"You think I owe you something just because you're here? Living in my house. With my pups."
Sebastian's voice barely held. "No. I never said that."
"You didn't have to," Ezra said, breathing deep—and regretting it instantly. His nostrils flared. "You're always here. Playing house. Slotting yourself into everything like you belong."
"I'm helping, Ezra," Sebastian said, wounded but trying to hold ground. "Because the pups needed someone. Because you did."
Ezra scoffed and stepped closer. He didn't mean to, but his body betrayed him. His instincts pulled him toward the scent, toward the heat curling under Sebastian's skin. His shorts felt suddenly too tight.
"You always find a way to linger," he said, voice low. Dangerous. "Always there. Always waiting. Like I'm supposed to forget what happened and—what? Invite you into my bed this time since I was in yours last time?"
Sebastian's throat moved. His lashes fluttered. That scent thickened.
It hit Ezra so hard he almost swayed.
"That night wasn't a plan," Sebastian said, voice cracking. "I didn't lure you back to my apartment and trap you."
Ezra laughed, bitter and hard. "Didn't you?"
"What?"
"You knew I was drunk. You let me in. You stood there in those shorts, smelling like that," he hissed, and Sebastian's breath hitched. "You looked at me like you wanted to be ruined. You let me fall into your bed like it meant nothing."
Sebastian's lips parted, stunned. "Ezra..."
"You wanted it," Ezra growled. "You made those soft little noises. You wrapped your legs around me—don't pretend you were some innocent bystander."
"I didn't make you do anything," Sebastian shot back, trembling. "You were the one who pinned me down. You kissed me. You pulled my shirt off. I didn't seduce you—I just didn't stop you."
"You should have," Ezra barked. But his voice faltered on the last word. Because even now, all he could see was the way Sebastian had looked that night—flushed and open, hands gripping Ezra's shoulders like they were the only thing tethering him to earth.
Sebastian's eyes glistened. "So now it's my fault? That you liked it? That I even stopped you from knotting me? That you can't stop thinking about it even when you're busy pretending I don't exist?"
Ezra's hands fisted. "You think this is easy for me?"
He stepped in too close. Their chests didn't touch—but the heat between them was palpable. And Ezra could feel it—Sebastian's body humming, his scent blooming stronger under stress. Or arousal. Or both.
"You're in heat," Ezra said lowly, like a revelation and a curse.
Sebastian's eyes widened. He turned his face away.
Ezra's nostrils flared. "You've been walking around this house reeking of it. You think I don't notice? Every time you lean past me. Every time you touch something that's mine."
Sebastian shook his head, tears falling freely now. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"But you didn't leave, either," Ezra whispered, voice ragged. "You're sitting there letting my pups call you Daddy like this is some fantasy. Like you're waiting for me to pull you under me again."
Sebastian looked shattered.
"I'm not trying to replace anyone," he whispered. "I'm just trying to be part of the pack it takes to raise three pups."
Ezra's heart pounded. His instincts screamed. One step closer, and he'd kiss him. Pin him. Claim him.
But he didn't.
He just said: "Bullshit. You want me to say it meant something. That you meant something."
"I didn't expect anything," Sebastian sobbed.
"You've been playing the victim ever since," Ezra bit out, but it landed hollow.
"I am the victim, Ezra!" Sebastian cried. "I've spent weeks being treated like I'm poison. Like I ruined your life by sleeping with you once. You won't even look at me unless you're angry."
Ezra turned away, pacing, every movement tight with restraint. Because all he wanted—all he fucking wanted—was to turn around, shove Sebastian against the wall, and press his nose to that flushed throat. To bite. To breathe him in until the room spun.
"You knew I wasn't gay," he muttered, more to himself than to Seb.
"I knew," Sebastian whispered. "But I still wanted you."
Ezra's throat worked. He couldn't look at him.
"You don't get to cry," he said hoarsely.
Sebastian took a step forward, slow and brave. "I'm not crying because I want pity. I'm crying because I'm tired of being someone's regret."
Ezra turned slightly. His eyes—red, gleaming—flicked to Sebastian's face, then to his mouth. His fists trembled.
"You were the one who touched me like I mattered," Sebastian said softly. "You said my name like you needed me."
Ezra closed his eyes. One tear slipped free. He swiped it away like it didn't matter.
Sebastian almost reached for him.
Almost.
But stopped.
"I didn't seduce you," he whispered. "You just didn't want to be alone that night. And neither did I."
Ezra turned away, heart hammering. He grabbed the door.
Looked back once.
Just once.
His lips parted. No words came.
And then he walked out
.
Left Sebastian standing in the thick heat of the room, heartbroken and open.
And Ezra didn't stop wanting him.
He just couldn't afford to want him more.