Chapter 25 #2
Stephen jerked away from the touch, revulsion crawling over his skin like insects.
"There is no connection," he said firmly, abandoning attempts at gentle de-escalation.
"You're delusional. I am not Theo. I have never made videos.
I have never met you outside of occasionally being in the same Pret queue. Now please, step back and let me pass."
The change was immediate. The man's expression contorted from adoration to rage, his features twisting into something barely recognisable as the same person.
"You fucking tease," he spat, grabbing Stephen's shoulders with bruising force. "You put yourself out there for everyone to see, you make us want you, and then you act like we're nothing."
"Get your hands off me," Stephen said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Right now."
Instead, the man shoved him hard against the wall, the back of Stephen's head connecting with brick hard enough to send stars dancing across his vision. Pain bloomed at the base of his skull, sharp and disorienting.
Training from the self-defence classes Colin had insisted both twins take after their sixteenth birthday kicked in through the haze.
Stephen brought his knee up sharply, aiming for the groin, but the man twisted away at the last second.
The blow landed on his thigh instead. With a growl, he grabbed Stephen by the throat, squeezing enough to make breathing difficult.
"Stop fighting," he hissed, his face inches from Stephen's. "You know you want this. You show the whole world how much you want it."
Stephen slammed his fist into the side of the man's head, a solid punch that made his attacker stumble backward, releasing his grip. He lunged for freedom, but the man recovered quickly, tackling him with enough force to send them both crashing to the ground.
Stephen's mobile skittered across the pavement, the screen shattering on impact. He clawed at the ground, trying to crawl away, but the man flipped him over, pinning him down with his superior weight and alpha strength.
The alpha's scent hit him. Sharp, acrid with aggression, tinged with the unmistakable musk of arousal.
Wrong. Too acidic, too possessive. It poured off the man in waves, a biological declaration of intent that Stephen's hindbrain registered with primal clarity.
His body tensed, every cell rejecting the alpha pheromones that coated his skin, impossible to shake.
"Get off me!" Stephen shouted, his voice echoing off the building walls. "Help! Somebody help!"
The man's fist connected with Stephen's jaw, snapping his head to the side. His mouth filled with the copper taste of blood. Another blow, this one to his ribs, drove the air from his lungs.
"Shut up," the man snarled, his hand tangling in Stephen's hair, slamming his head against the pavement. "Just shut up and take it like you do in your videos."
Through the ringing in his ears, Stephen realised with growing horror that the man was fumbling at his belt, trying to undo it one-handed while keeping him pinned.
"I'm not Theo," he gasped, struggling against the weight on top of him. "Please, I'm not him. I'm his brother. I'm Stephen."
"Stop lying," the man grunted, managing to unfasten Stephen's belt. He yanked at Stephen's trousers, dragging them down his hips. "You're Theo. My Theo. Mine."
"Please don't," Stephen begged. "Please stop. I'm not who you think I am."
"You're exactly who I think you are," the man said, his hand moving to his own zip. "The omega who's been teasing me for months. The one who looks at the camera like he's begging for it."
Stephen's vision blurred with tears of pain and terror.
His trousers and pants were yanked down to his knees now, the cold night air shocking against his exposed skin.
Rough hands forced their way between his legs, groping and invasive, making him flinch and try to close his thighs against the violation.
His thoughts fragmented into disjointed prayers, pleas to a universe that had apparently decided he deserved this particular nightmare.
Then a figure appeared at the entrance to the side street. A man in a business suit, initially frozen as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
"Hey!" the businessman called, his voice uncertain. "What's going on there?"
The weight on top of Stephen shifted as his attacker glanced toward the voice. "Fuck off," he shouted. "This is private."
The businessman took a step closer, his expression changing as he processed the scene: Stephen pinned to the ground, trousers pulled down, face bloodied, eyes wide.
"Get off him!" the businessman bellowed, breaking into a run.
The stalker hesitated, calculating. Self-preservation won out. He scrambled off Stephen, preparing to flee, but the businessman was faster than he looked. He launched himself at the stalker, tackling him with the precision of someone who'd played rugby at university.
They crashed into a row of bins, the metallic clatter adding to the chaos as they grappled on the ground. The businessman was shouting something about citizens' arrests, his voice carrying in the quiet street.
More footsteps. Concerned voices. Someone stooped beside Stephen, a woman in a waitress uniform from the late-night cafe around the corner. She draped a jacket over him.
"It's okay," she said, helping him pull up his trousers, shielding him from view with her body. "You're safe now. We've called the police. They're on their way."
Stephen nodded, his throat too tight to form words. Through shock-blurred vision, he watched as two men from the cafe pinned his attacker to the ground while the businessman sat on his legs.
The stalker was still screaming that Stephen was Theo, that they had a connection, that everyone needed to mind their own business. But his voice seemed to come from very far away, fading beneath the roaring in Stephen's ears as shock settled over him.