Daniel didn't expect jealousy to feel like this.
He'd always imagined it as loud—anger, possessiveness, maybe even violence. Something obvious. Something easy to recognize and shut down.
This wasn't loud.
This was quiet.
It crept in during breakfast when Leo laughed at something Mika said, leaning back in his chair like he belonged there. It lingered when Ryo casually draped an arm over Leo's shoulder during training, murmuring something low that made Leo grin.
Daniel told himself it was nothing.
Friends laughed. Friends touched. Friends smiled at each other like that all the time.
So why did his chest feel tight?
He stabbed his fork into his food harder than necessary.
"You're gonna break the plate," Mika muttered.
"I'm fine," Daniel replied automatically.
Mika gave him a look—the kind that said you are absolutely not fine, but she didn't push. She rarely did.
Across the hall, Leo's gaze flickered toward Daniel, then away again.
Good, Daniel thought. Keep your distance.
But when training began later that morning, distance became impossible.
Combat practice was always intense, but today the air felt sharper. The alphas were restless, their scents heavier, confidence crackling like static.
Daniel sparred first.
He moved flawlessly—precise, controlled, every strike calculated. The crowd murmured their approval.
"Still undefeated," someone whispered.
Daniel barely heard them.
He was watching Leo.
Leo wasn't sparring yet. He stood near the edge, sleeves rolled up, expression relaxed but attentive. His eyes followed Daniel's movements closely—not hungry, not arrogant—just focused.
That look did something to Daniel.
When the match ended, Daniel stepped back, breathing evenly. He could feel it then—his suppressor humming, strained.
Not breaking.
Just… thinner.
"Next," the instructor called.
Leo stepped forward.
Of course he did.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them—something electric.
The match began.
Leo fought differently than anyone else. Where Daniel was sharp and efficient, Leo was fluid, adaptable, responding instead of anticipating.
They circled each other.
Strike. Block. Counter.
The crowd quieted.
Leo smiled faintly. "You're distracted."
Daniel lunged. "You're imagining things."
Leo ducked easily. "You sure?"
Daniel felt it again—heat blooming beneath his skin, his scent pressing against the suppressor like it wanted out.
He pushed harder.
Too hard.
Leo caught his wrist mid-strike, grip firm but careful. For a split second, they were too close—breath to breath, scent to scent.
Leo froze.
Daniel felt it.
The slip.
Just a thread of sweetness, unmistakable.
Leo's pupils flared.
The room seemed to tilt.
Daniel yanked his hand back, heart pounding. "Don't—"
"I won't," Leo said instantly, voice low. "Relax."
But it was too late.
Others were staring now.
"Did you smell that?" someone murmured.
Daniel stepped back quickly, forcing his breathing steady. The instructor barked an order to reset, but the moment had already cracked something open.
The match ended early.
Daniel left the floor without looking back.
He didn't stop walking until he reached the empty locker room.
His hands shook as he pressed them against the sink.
Stupid. Careless.
Jealousy made you sloppy, he realized.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Daniel stiffened. "I said I'm fine."
Leo stopped a few steps away. "I didn't ask."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Leo spoke again. "You weren't mad at me today."
Daniel scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."
Leo's eyes softened. "You were jealous."
Daniel's head snapped up. "I was not."
Leo didn't smile. "You were."
The honesty in his voice made Daniel's chest ache.
"Why?" Daniel demanded. "Why does it matter who you talk to?"
Leo hesitated. "Because you watched."
Daniel looked away. "That doesn't mean anything."
"It does to me," Leo said quietly.
That was the problem.
Daniel exhaled sharply. "You shouldn't care."
"I know," Leo replied. "But I do."
The air between them thickened.
Daniel's suppressor pulsed again—warning this time.
Leo noticed.
He took a step back. "You need space."
Daniel nodded, grateful and frustrated all at once. "Yeah."
Leo paused at the door. "For what it's worth… I don't let people that close."
Daniel's throat tightened. "Then why—"
Leo smiled sadly. "Because you're different."
The door closed behind him.
Daniel stood alone, heart racing, the echo of his own scent still clinging to the air.
He pressed his palm to his chest.
Jealousy was dangerous.
But wanting Leo?
That was worse.