Cocoon (Lily ABO) - Chapter 2

Losing control was an understatement.

The moment the retort left Ling Yu’s mouth, her heart sank to the bottom of an abyss. When Han Jingman offered no immediate response, Ling Yu almost convinced herself that her outburst had been a hallucination. But the words had clearly been spoken. Was Han Jingman angry?

Ling Yu bit her lip and stole a glance at the woman standing before her, who seemed lost in thought.

Han Jingman was wearing a casual, solid-colored chiffon shirt today. The sleeves were rolled up just to the wrist, and the inch of pale, lustrous skin revealed there seemed to sting Ling Yu’s heart like a needle.

Ling Yu coughed unnaturally, unable to gauge what Han Jingman’s silence represented. Anger? Disappointment? Or was she simply shocked by this sudden display of rebellion?

“Professor Han, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back. I have work scheduled in the lab tomorrow.” Ling Yu tried to keep her voice from sounding forced. Heaven knew that the way her heart had ricocheted from the abyss back into her throat required Oscar-level acting skills.

Having said her piece, Ling Yu turned to open the driver’s side door, desperate to flee from this stifling awkwardness.

“Ling Yu…” Han Jingman’s voice carried a slight tremor—soft, trembling, and heart-tugging.

Ling Yu tossed her backpack into the passenger seat, hesitated, and bit her lip before turning back.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Ling Yu had initially assumed Han Jingman was shaking with rage, but she noticed that Han Jingman wasn’t just breathing unevenly—she was panting, and her body was swaying rhythmically.

Ling Yu stared at the woman’s flushed face and ragged breathing, and then she caught it: a faint, ethereal scent of red wine in the air. Damn it. A disastrous thought exploded in her mind.

Seeing Han Jingman about to collapse, Ling Yu lunged forward and grabbed her shoulders, hauling her upright.

“Han Jingman, is your heat starting?” Ling Yu asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. She paid more attention to Han Jingman’s heat cycles than her own; after all, she worked incredibly hard to help Han Jingman ward off all those predatory Alphas. She remembered clearly that Han Jingman’s cycle shouldn’t be due yet. Unless—

“Han Jingman, what did you eat this afternoon?” Given the emergency, Ling Yu ignored the usual student-teacher etiquette and addressed her by name.

Though Han Jingman’s body felt like lead and she struggled to focus—especially with half her weight leaning into Ling Yu’s arms—the inescapable Alpha pheromones surrounding her were pushing her to the brink of losing her sanity. Yet, she knew she was indeed in heat. Struggling for clarity, she bit her tongue hard, using the sharp pain to force back a shred of consciousness.

Food? She had processed data at school all day and had a simple salad for lunch. It couldn’t be that. It had to be dinner. But she had only ordered the mushroom pasta and salad—none of those ingredients were her triggers.

“Pasta… mushrooms…” Han Jingman squeezed out the words. She felt miserable, so aggrieved she wanted to cry. She’d just been yelled at by Ling Yu, and now she was suffering through an inexplicable forced heat.

Then, she remembered the oysters Fred had recommended. Not wanting to be rude, she had taken a polite bite.

“And… and oysters.” But her body shouldn’t have reacted to those.

The hands holding her shoulders trembled. Ling Yu’s throat tightened.

“It was the rosemary.”

Ling Yu closed her eyes and let out a resigned sigh. She was almost certain rosemary was the culprit.

Ever since Han Jingman had presented as an Omega, Ling Yu had studied her loved one’s habits and biological traits as if they were a student handbook, internalizing them completely. Every Omega undergoes a physical exam after presenting to test for stressors—elements that can induce a “forced heat” outside of their normal cycle—to help the delicate Omegas avoid such risks.

Ling Yu had memorized Han Jingman’s stressor test results word-for-word. She knew them better than Han Jingman’s own doctor-parents, and better than Han Jingman herself.

Rosemary. That was Han Jingman’s number-one stress trigger.

For years, Ling Yu had subconsciously filtered out harmful elements from every facet of Han Jingman’s life. But tonight, she had seen Caleb add a generous amount of rosemary to that dish of Baked Oysters with Cheese—certainly enough to induce heat. After all, it was a proper Italian restaurant; chefs there are never stingy with rosemary when preparing non-vegetarian dishes.

Who could have guessed that Fred’s “friend” was Han Jingman, and that she would happen to eat the oysters?

But Han Jingman wasn’t to blame. She was usually extremely careful and rarely ate out; even when she did, she would politely inform the server of her allergies.

Tonight, however, Han Jingman had been distracted. She was already flustered by Ling Yu’s recent unusual behavior, and then Fred had delivered that “bombshell” news.

Ling Yu? Working? Getting close to an Omega at the restaurant? In her state of mental chaos, Han Jingman hadn’t even paid attention to what she was eating. Since she never touched rosemary to begin with, she didn’t even know what it tasted like, and thus mindlessly ate the food Fred recommended.

A fine sweat broke out on Ling Yu’s forehead. At least she had identified the cause. All she needed was the corresponding suppressor.

“Han Jingman, wake up.” Ling Yu was incredibly gentle as she spoke to the Omega currently in the throes of heat. She softly called out to the dazed woman, brushing damp strands of hair away from her sweaty cheeks.

Ling Yu’s pheromones smelled so good. Han Jingman let out a soft “mmh” and slumped completely into the Alpha’s embrace. She tried to burrow deeper into Ling Yu’s arms. The scent of milk—clean, mellow, and fragrant. Wrapped in this dense, comforting scent, her throat felt parched with thirst.

Ling Yu steeled her heart and shook her. “Where is your car parked?”

She didn’t see Han Jingman’s handbag, so she needed to find the car; the bag and the suppressors would likely be inside.

Han Jingman felt bitter. She just wanted to rest, but this person kept shaking her and buzzing in her ear.

“I don’t know…” Han Jingman gripped Ling Yu’s hem tightly, pressing herself against the Alpha, desperate for more of the pheromones that made her feel better.

They couldn’t wait any longer. Ling Yu knew she wouldn’t get any more information out of Han Jingman. She scooped the woman up and gingerly but firmly tucked her into the passenger seat of her own car, buckling the seatbelt in one fluid motion.

As her arms suddenly became empty, Han Jingman began to fuss in the seat. Ling Yu shoved her backpack into Han Jingman’s arms. “Hold this.”

Ling Yu had used the same backpack for years; the fabric was faded from washing. Feeling her arms full again, Han Jingman clutched the bag and buried her face in it, nuzzling the fabric. So good… it smells like Ling Yu.

Ling Yu was immensely grateful she had a spare key to Han Jingman’s house. Plan B: drive straight there. She knew exactly where the suppressors were kept.

Being abroad was different from home. In their home country, suppressors for Alphas and Omegas were over-the-counter and available at any pharmacy. Here, one had to explain the situation to a doctor, get a prescription, and keep that prescription updated regularly. It was an exhausting ordeal.

“Be good. Just a little longer and you won’t feel bad anymore.”

With the seatbelt secured, Ling Yu started the car and drove straight toward Han Jingman’s house.