Rika woke up with her thighs glued together.
No, not metaphorically. Literally. Her panties were still damp, sticking uncomfortably as she blinked blearily at the ceiling. For one blissful second, she thought maybe it was just a filthy dream, until the scent hit her.
Daika's scent.
Thick.
Musky.
Alpha.
It clung to the sheets, to Rika's hair, to the very air she was breathing.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The memories of last night came rushing back, the fingers, the moans, the way Daika had pinned her down and made her scream into the pillow.
Rika shoved her face into the blanket and groaned.
"I can't believe I actually said I'm yours… oh god. Kill me now."
"Don't tempt me."
Rika froze.
She slowly turned her head and nearly launched herself off the bed.
Daika was leaning against the desk chair, already dressed in her training sweats, towel-dried hair tumbling over her shoulders. And of course, she was sipping water from a bottle like this was the most casual morning in the world.
Her smirk widened when their eyes met. "Sleep well, kitten?"
Rika's soul left her body. "Y-you—you're still here?!"
Daika arched a brow. "This is my dorm room too. Or did you forget in the middle of screaming my name?"
Rika's face went nuclear red. She hurled the nearest pillow at Daika's head. "Shut up! I wasn't—! It wasn't like that!"
Daika caught the pillow one-handed, laughing, her voice husky and smug. "Relax, I'm not complaining. You were adorable."
"Adorable?!" Rika clutched her blanket tighter, glaring. "You!!!! You're a pervert! You can't just.....just molest your roommate!"
Daika tilted her head, wolfish grin sharp as ever. "Molest? Sweetheart, you were dripping on my fingers like you'd been waiting your whole life for it. Don't twist the truth."
Rika made a strangled noise, burying herself under the blanket like a burrito. "I hate you."
"Liar."
The Alpha stood and stretched lazily, her shirt riding up just enough to flash toned abs. She leaned down, tugging the blanket just enough to see Rika's flushed face peeking out.
Her voice dropped, smooth and dangerous. "You can hate me all you want. But I know your secret now, kitten. And that means…" She trailed off, brushing a strand of hair from Rika's forehead. "…you're mine."
Rika's pulse spiked again. "Y-you wouldn't…"
"Oh?" Daika's smirk sharpened. "Wanna bet?"
Practice room mirrors were cruel.
They showed every flaw, every stumble, every tiny twitch of panic on Rika's face as the choreographer shouted counts over pounding music.
But today, they weren't just cruel, they were merciless. Because every time Rika dared glance sideways, she caught Daika's reflection staring at her.
Not casually.
Not like a teammate.
No.
Like a predator who'd already tasted blood.
Rika nearly tripped over her own feet for the fifth time.
"Rika!" the choreographer barked, clapping sharply. "Focus! You're lagging half a beat behind."
"Y-yes, sir!" She bowed quickly, cheeks burning. Her lungs already hurt, but not from the dancing, from the weight of Daika's smirk drilling into her skull.
As soon as the instructor turned away, Daika sidled closer in line, moving with infuriating smoothness. Her voice dipped low, just enough for Rika to hear over the music:
"Careful, kitten. Keep shaking like that and people might think you're in heat."
Rika nearly faceplanted. She spun on her heel to glare, whispering furiously: "Shut up! Someone will hear you!"
Daika just winked, sweat glistening on her neck as she flipped her hair back.
"Relax. They're too busy watching themselves."
And she wasn't wrong. The rest of the trainees were locked in their own worlds of survival, desperate to nail the moves before elimination rounds. Nobody noticed Rika's panicked whispers—or Daika's smug grin.
But Rika noticed.
Every second.
Every glance.
Every damn word.
By the time practice wrapped, her legs were trembling so badly she thought she might collapse.
The choreographer clapped his hands. "Good work today. Tomorrow, stage rehearsal. Don't slack!"
The trainees bowed and began scattering to grab water, towels, and gossip in little clusters. Rika bee-lined for the farthest corner, desperate for a single breath away from Daika.
But of course, she wasn't that lucky.
"Running from me already?"
Rika jumped as Daika appeared right behind her, voice silky, towel draped around her neck.
She spun, clutching her bottle like a weapon. "Don't sneak up on me!"
Daika chuckled, leaning casually against the wall. "Relax. I'm just checking on my kitten. You looked like you were about to melt out there."
"I...I was dancing! You try keeping up after two hours!"
"Mmm." Daika's eyes dropped, lingering far too long on Rika's flushed throat, the damp shirt clinging to her chest. "Oh, I've got stamina. You know that already."
Rika nearly dropped her bottle. "Y-you—! Not here!"
Daika smirked, closing the gap between them until Rika's back pressed against the mirror. Her voice dropped husky, meant for no one else.
"You should thank me, you know. If I hadn't… taken the edge off last night, you'd be leaking all over this room right now."
Rika's entire body flushed. "S-stop talking about it! Someone will—"
"Shhh." Daika's finger pressed lightly to her lips, cutting her off. "You're so loud when you're nervous. I wonder how loud you'll be when you break again."
Rika shoved her hand away, hissing, "You're insane. I'm not yours!"
Daika's grin sharpened. "Funny. Your body disagrees."
Before Rika could fire back, the door slammed open and another trainee yelled, "Yo! Hurry up, showers are free!"
Rika practically bolted, mumbling something incoherent as she darted away, leaving Daika laughing softly to herself.
"Run all you want, kitten," she murmured under her breath. "You'll come back."
Steam curled thick in the dorm showers, fogging the glass and sticking to skin. Trainees' voices echoed in bursts of laughter and complaints, the kind of half-dazed chatter that came after brutal practice.
Rika scrubbed at her hair furiously, praying the hot water would wash away more than sweat, her scent, her thoughts, the memory of Daika's smirk.
She just needed five minutes. Alone. Quiet. Normal.
The universe, however, hated her guts.
"Kitten."
Rika froze, shampoo still lathered in her hair. The low, amused voice rolled right through the steam. She turned her head slowly, too slowly and there she was.
Daika.
Leaning against the tiled wall, towel hanging dangerously low, droplets sliding down her collarbone like they belonged on an album cover.
Rika's heart slammed against her ribs. "Y-you can't just walk into people's showers!"
"Relax." Daika pushed off the wall, sauntering closer. Her reflection blurred in the fogged glass. "Everyone else is busy gossiping. We've got… privacy."
Rika grabbed the nearest bottle of body wash like a weapon. "Privacy?! We're in a public dorm!"
Daika's smirk widened as she stepped into Rika's stall, sliding the door shut behind her with a click. "Exactly. Which makes it more fun."
"Y-you're insane—"
Her words cut off when Daika braced one hand against the wall above her head, the other casually tugging the bottle from her trembling grip. The Alpha's heat radiated through the steam, dizzying, suffocating.
"Your scent's already spiking," Daika murmured, leaning in until their wet skin almost touched. She inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Sweet. You wanted me here."
Rika's whole body jerked. "No! I didn't—"
"Then why are you trembling?" Daika's finger traced the line of Rika's jaw, down her throat, stopping at the frantic pulse beneath her skin. "Why does your body sing for me every time I get close?"
"I-it doesn't—!"
Daika's laugh was low and dangerous. She pressed forward just enough that Rika's back hit the cool tile, the spray of the shower cascading over both of them.
"You're a terrible liar, kitten."
Rika bit her lip, desperate to keep quiet, because through the haze of steam and pounding water, she could still hear the other trainees chatting a few stalls down. If anyone came this way—
"D-Daika, stop! They'll hear us!"
Daika tilted her head, lips ghosting over her ear. "Then stay quiet. If you can."
Her hand slid down, fingers brushing over Rika's hip, her towel slipping with the movement.
Rika's breath hitched so sharply she almost choked on the steam. Her nails dug into Daika's shoulders, half-shoving, half-clutching. "You're—ahhh—crazy! Someone's coming—!"
And just like that!!!
"Yo, you girls done in there?!" a voice rang out from the doorway, followed by laughter.
Rika went rigid. Her blood turned to ice.
Daika, on the other hand, didn't flinch. Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight as she pressed a finger to Rika's trembling lips. "Shhh."
She kissed the corner of her mouth, quick, hot, electric, then pulled back just enough to whisper:
"You'll break soon. And when you do… you'll beg me."
Then, just as footsteps approached, she slipped out of the stall, towel hitched carelessly back into place, leaving Rika shaking under the shower spray, lips tingling, heart pounding like a war drum.
We are back to the Rhearsal hall, 10 a.m.
The air was thick with nerves, sweat, and the sharp tang of disinfectant. Dozens of trainees practiced their choreo in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, trainers pacing with sharp eyes and sharper critiques.
Rika stood dead center in Team One's formation, trying to focus on the beat. Step—turn—pop—smile. Easy. She'd done this a hundred times.
But her body wasn't listening.
Her heart was thumping too fast, her skin too hot, and every time she caught Daika's reflection in the mirror—lean, predatory, moving like liquid fire—her stomach flipped violently.
Don't think about the shower.
Don't think about her lips.
Don't think about how she smelled like heat and danger—
"Kitten."
The whisper ghosted over her ear even though Daika was three steps behind her.
Rika almost stumbled. "Wh-what—?"
"Focus," the trainer barked. "Again from the top!"
Music blasted. The bass rattled the floor. Trainees snapped back into motion, bodies sharp, precise.
Rika tried. She really did. But then Daika's hand slid along her waist in the middle of a transition, subtle enough to look like choreography, intimate enough to make Rika's knees buckle.
Her scent spiked instantly.
Oh god.
Not here. Not now.
"Smile, Rika!" one of the trainers shouted.
She forced her lips up, but her thighs pressed together instinctively as Daika's breath brushed her neck during a partnered move. "You're leaking again," the Alpha murmured against her skin. "So easy to read."
Rika's eyes darted to the mirror. Cameras. Trainers. Everyone.
"D-Daika, stop—"
"Stop what?" Daika smirked as she spun her around for the next count, gripping her wrist too tight, tugging her flush against her chest before letting go. "No one can tell, kitten. Only me."
The song hit the chorus, and Daika lifted her into the dip exactly as the choreography demanded—except her hand was pressed just a little too low, fingers dangerously close to the swell of Rika's ass.
Rika's breath caught in a broken gasp.
The trainer clapped sharply. "Good! That's the passion we want! Keep that energy!"
Energy?! Rika wanted to die.
Daika's lips curled as she hauled her upright again. "See? They love it when you moan for me."
"I—I wasn't—!"
"Shhh." Daika's hand lingered on her waist, thumb grazing the curve of her hip. "Keep pretending it's just acting. But you and I both know better."
Her scent spiked harder, sharp and sweet, impossible to control.
The trainee beside her wrinkled her nose mid-spin. "Uh—Rika? Did you… spray too much perfume today?"
Panic shot through her like lightning.
Daika only smirked wider, eyes glinting in the mirror as if to say: Your secret's slipping, kitten. And I'm going to be the one who rips it wide open.