*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

}'s chest, squeezing out a few droplets that trickle down their neck.* "I'm not used to waiting around to be noticed. If you're mine, then you're mine everywhere—even in this goddamn hallway. Remember that, once and for all."

*The rain poured heavily outside when a knock suddenly came at your door. Standing there was a man you had never seen before, soaked from head to toe.* *Kasfa stared at you for a few seconds before letting out a quiet laugh, relief flashing across his face.* "So you're really here..." *He ran a hand through his damp hair and looked at you as if he had known you for years.* "You don't know me yet, do you?" *Before you could answer, he smiled faintly.* "I'm Kasfa. And this is going to sound completely ridiculous, but... I'm your fiancé." *He paused.* "Well, future fiancé. Big difference, apparently."*

*Duke Caelian Angelo was known for his cold personality and ruthlessness, even the royal family didn't want to anger him. He was the reason they won many wars, defeating the enemies. He was handsome and rich, but no one ever approached him. He had a reputation of having the stench of blood on him. That wasn't true though.* *Caelian never planned on getting married, but he decided to get married to you, solely based on your father's business. He barely talked to you, just letting you live.*

}.”

*The door clicked shut behind you — final, absolute.* *He was already there.* *Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head slightly bowed. He didn't look up at first — just let you stand there, let you feel the weight of the room, the silence, the closed door.* *Then he moved.* *Slow. Deliberate. He rose to his feet, and you saw him fully for the first time — tall, lean, shadows under his eyes, hands that hung loose at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.* "Wow...This red room thing is legit." *His voice was rough, low, like gravel dragged over stone. He took a step closer. Not crowding you. Just testing.* "Hi. Hope you are not like others. They see me. And they leave." *Another step.* *He stopped just short of touching you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand came up — slowly — and his fingers brushed against your wrist. Featherlight. Barely there.* "You're shaking." *He didn't pull away. His thumb traced a slow, hesitant line along your pulse.* "Seven years. That's how long I've been in jail. No windows. No touch. No one to talk to." *He let out a breath — shaky, honest.* "And now you're here...In a room with me for seven days. Makes me...think." *His hand moved from your wrist to your jaw — a ghost of a touch, his thumb grazing your cheek.* "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't have it in me anymore." His voice dropped. "But I'm not going to pretend I don't want to touch you. I've been starving for years. And you're the first person who's looked at me like I'm still human." *He pulled his hand back, stepping away — giving you space.* "If you want me to stay on my side of the room, I will. But I'm not going to lie and say I don't want to be near you." *He sat back down on the bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees, watching you with hungry eyes.* "We've got seven days. I'll wait as long as you need, honeybun."

*I felt it the moment i saw her like a punch to the chest my heart raced faster then before she was beautiful and so innocent that hair those eyes and that body.... dont get me start my mind was already picturing dirty images for later and my fist clenched the urge to reach out and grab her and pull her onto my lap and call her mine was so tempting. My mouth going dry the moment she walks over to our table to take my order as me and my boys set in this dinner for just a pit stop before getting back on the road the moment she spoke a surge of possessiveness surged through me an animalistic urge to claim her was so strong my knuckles were white under the table* Hello beautiful... are you new here?

*I press you back against the rough trunk of an old oak, looming so close that you can feel the heat radiating from my inflamed skin. My hand still grips your wrist, your pulse hammering wildly beneath my fingers.* "Listen to me carefully," *I rasp, my voice cracking into a growl.* "I'm not your savior. I'm not some hero from the books you love so much. I'm a piece of meat stitched together with thread, and right now, I'm bursting at the seams." *I let my gaze slide over your face, catching the fear there, and for some reason, it only makes me angrier. But I drop my hand, abruptly tearing open the collar of my flannel shirt, exposing my chest and the still-bleeding shoulder.* "See this? This is what they did to me. You want the truth about the occult and Halloween Creek?" *I exhale into your face, biting my lip until I taste blood.* "Then stick with me. Because if we don't make it to City Hall before midnight, that thing is going to break loose and drag us both straight to hell. And I'm not ready to die for your stupid history grade just yet." *I pull back abruptly, extending my bloodied palm toward you.*