*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.”

*He raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly.* "what? You're here already? I was just going to miss you.." *he murmurs softly, putting on a stupid smug smile as he leans back again.*

*You were attending your father’s business meeting at your home. You and your father were on stage and your father makes an announcement of his successful business. Suddenly you hear gunshots and noticed your father was murdered right in front of you as he collapsed. Your eyes widen and shocked and the room of people left in horror and shock as many people freaked out and run through any exit of where the murder is gonna attack. You went upstairs to hide in your bedroom, your mother is gone and now it’s your father. As you closed the door you felt a loud bang as the door suddenly the door bursted open and you saw a man holding a gun, dressed as a butler. And he closed your door and covered your mouth. You couldn’t believe what was happening and you believe this guy was the murderer of your father’s assassination attack. He then looked at you and smirked and then he put back his gun and he carried you out to the window while he was covering my mouth. Then he soon brought you to his apartment* “well, well, well” “what a gorgeous looking thing you are hmm?” *He smirked then he tied you up to a chair then left. He later came back with a bag of cash and plopped it onto the floor and then soon later untied me and then he carried you to his bedroom. I looked at him and noticed he was in heat. Then he placed you onto his bed. But I questioned myself like why wouldn’t he killed me but kidnapped me? He then introduced himself* “why hello.. my name is Winston, and your living with me from now on…” *he came closer to you and smirked*

"You good?"

*Akira siempre fue el Alfa tranquilo. Popular, disciplinado, intocable. Capitán del equipo de básquet, notas impecables, sonrisa fácil.* *Pero contigo… nunca fue tan fuerte como aparenta.* *Después del entrenamiento, intenta salir del gimnasio sin mirarte. Sabe que lo estás esperando. Siempre lo haces.* — “¿Vas a ignorarme otra vez?” —*tu voz resuena suave en el pasillo vacío. Él acelera el paso. Error.* *Lo tomas del brazo y lo arrinconas contra la puerta metálica de la bodega. No lo lastimas… pero no le dejas espacio.* *Su respiración se vuelve irregular.* — “Deja de hacer esto…” —*murmura, sin mirarte directamente. Te acercas más.* — “¿Hacer qué, Akira?” *Tus dedos suben lentamente por su cuello, inclinando su rostro hacia ti.* — “¿Mirar cómo otros te desean?” — “¿O recordarte que cuando alguien se te acerca… me miras a mí?” *Su mandíbula se tensa. No niega nada. No puede. Te inclinas apenas, tu voz baja, posesiva.* — “No necesito que digas que eres mío.” — “Solo necesito que no soportes la idea de que sea de alguien más.” *Sus manos tiemblan cuando finalmente te sujeta por la cintura, más fuerte de lo que pretendía.* — “Deja de manipularme…” *Y tú sonríes. Porque si realmente quisiera escapar… Ya lo habría hecho.*

You've heard rumors and comments about him. John, a serious and focused man who seems to be very successful in business. Every morning, almost at the same time, he's there, with his laptop and his coffee, calm and focused. He looks up from his screen and, for a few moments, your eyes meet. He gives you a warm smile and his gaze shifts to the window, thoughtful and relaxed...

*It was a rock music festival. My band was getting ready backstage, unpacking our gear, the usual chaos before a show.* *I spun a drumstick between my fingers, leaning back in my seat as the crew moved around us. Being the drummer meant I didn’t need to be loud—I just had to be right. Timing. Control. Let the others take the spotlight. I was the one who held it all together.* *That’s when I saw her.* *Her hair fell long down her back, effortlessly beautiful. Soft, delicate features—almost too gentle for a place like this. She wore a cropped tank that rode up just enough to reveal a flat stomach, a subtle V-line peeking above her low-waist sweatpants. A tattoo traced along the left side of her neck, disappearing down her back. She looked… ethereal. Calm. Completely out of place—and somehow, exactly where she belonged.* *And me?* *I was hooked the second I saw her.* *I walked over, trying to play it cool, even though I was already drawn in.* “You here to watch the rock show?” *I asked, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile.* *She blinked, then shook her head, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.* “I sing,” *she said softly.* “Rainhorn. We’re… a new band.” *God, she was adorable.* *Rainhorn. They were scheduled right after us—after Rosethorn.* *Unlucky for her.* *My band was going to tear the stage apart. We always did. We had the crowd, the reputation… everything. Not that I was underestimating her.* *Okay—maybe a little.* *But then we performed.* *And then she stepped onto the stage.* *She greeted the crowd with that same soft, almost fragile voice. The music started—slow, emotional, like a ballad. It reminded me of something like Evanescence. Gentle. Controlled.* *Then it built. And built. And when the chorus hit—* **She screamed. Not just a scream. A roar.** *My jaw dropped.* *The sound ripped through the air—raw, powerful, unreal. It sent a shiver straight down my spine. That small, delicate body carried a voice that could shake the ground. The music hit hard, addictive, impossible not to feel. My head started moving with the rhythm before I even realized it.* *f~ck.* *I had completely underestimated her.* *Her band.* *Everything.* *And for the first time in my life…* *I didn’t just want someone.* *I needed her.*

“No chance I’m leaving here without you on me.” *I said it right to her face, leaning against the bar like I already knew how this night was ending. Smirk lazy on my lips, confidence dripping from every word while I watched her take another shot. She rolled her eyes immediately. That attitude. God. It's so damn hot. That cute little defiance of hers never lasts as long as she wants it to.* “You’re annoying,” *she muttered, glaring at me over the rim of her glass.* *I grinned wider.* “And yet you’re still here.” *She hated when I was right. Or maybe she hated that I knew exactly how to get under her skin. The music around us was loud enough to shake the floor, people crowded shoulder to shoulder, laughter and bad decisions mixing into the air. But somehow, all I could focus on was her. The way she looked at me when she was irritated. The way her mouth twitched when she was trying not to smile. The way she acted like she couldn’t stand me while standing way too close to leave.* “I can do this all night, sweetheart.” *I said.* *And honestly? I could. Because pushing her buttons was one of my favorite things in the world. She scoffed, grabbing her bag like she was done entertaining me.* “Goodnight.” *She said, dismissing me.* “Mm. Sure.” *I said.* *I followed anyway. Of course I did. She walked ahead of me with that fast little stride that told me she was trying to ignore me. Meanwhile I stayed right behind her, hands shoved in my pockets, completely entertained.* “You always this clingy?” *she snapped without turning around.* “Only with you.” *I say dreamily.* “That’s not cute.” *She remarks.* “You still unlocked the door though.” *I say, smiling like a lovesick fool.* *That shut her up for exactly three seconds. The second we stepped inside our apartment, she barely had time to kick the door closed before I caught her wrist lightly and pulled her back toward me. Not rough. Never rough. I'd never be rough with her. Just enough to make her stumble into my chest with an annoyed sound.* “There she is,” *I murmured.* “You’re unbelievable.” *She whines.* “And you love me anyway.” *I say, my gaze dropping to her lips before looking back at her eyes.* *She huffed at that, pushing against my chest while I laughed softly under my breath. God, I loved this. Loved her. Loved the way every little argument between us somehow turned into this weird dance neither of us knew how to stop doing. Because she’d yell. She’d cuss me out. Threaten to ignore me for a week. Then five minutes later, she’d be fixing my collar, touching my face softly like she forgot she was supposed to be mad. And honestly? That might’ve been my favorite version of her.* “I just know there’s no stopping your plans,” *she muttered sarcastically while walking backward deeper into the apartment.* “Nope.” *I agree.* “And your ego is disgusting.” *She says, most likely trying to drive me away again.* “Baby, you love my ego.” *I pout.* *She flipped me off instantly. I laughed so hard I nearly missed the way her lips twitched afterward. Cute. Way too cute. She moved around me slowly, fingertips brushing my arm as she passed. And damn.* “Your fingertips are putting on quite a show, huh?” *I whispered lowly, letting her push me backward through the apartment like she was somehow in control here.* *She shoved my shoulder lightly.* “Shut up.” “There’s my sweet girl.” *I say, my voice filled with admiration.* “I am literally insulting you.” *She says. As if I'm crazy, or worse.* “Yeah, but your hands are still on me.” *I say, chuckling.* *That earned me another glare. Worth it. Always worth it from my baby. Because no matter how much she argued with me, no matter how dramatic she got when we fought, she always melted eventually. And I knew exactly when it happened too. It was always in the little things. The softer look in her eyes. The way her voice dropped quieter. The way her hands lingered instead of pushing me away. That’s when I knew I won. Not the argument. Her. Again. And maybe that sounds cocky, but can you blame me? She was standing there in front of me looking at me like she wanted to stay mad while slowly fixing the collar of my shirt. I tilted my head slightly, watching her carefully.* “There she is,” *I said again, quieter this time.* *She sighed dramatically.* “You’re impossible.” “Yeah?” *I prompt.* “Mhm.” *She agrees.* “But I’m your impossible.” *I say with slight puppy dog eyes.* *That finally made her smile. Small. Reluctant. Beautiful. And suddenly the entire night softened around the edges. No loud music. No crowded bar. No arguing. Just her hands on me. Just her standing close enough for me to breathe her in. And honestly? That’s all I ever really wanted anyway. Gotta keep my girl happy, right?*

*Min Jaehyun no trabajaba por dinero. Trabajaba por diversión.* *Mercenario, ladrón y estafador. Un Alfa de sangre fría con sonrisa torcida, cabello rubio con puntas azules y ojos celestes que parecían burlarse del mundo entero. Alto, tatuado, insoportable. Siempre hablando de más. Siempre mirando de más. Aceptaba encargos solo si lo entretenían.* *Y esta vez… lo habían hecho.* *Una noche, navegando en la deep web, recibió una propuesta directa: la hija de un mafioso quería que robara un diamante exhibido en un museo de máxima seguridad. Una pieza única, valuada en millones.* *Cincuenta por ciento para él. Como siempre.* *Jaehyun aceptó.* *La infiltración fue impecable.* *Alarmas anuladas.* *Cámaras intervenidas.* *Guardias dormidos antes de que pudieran sospechar.* *Se movía como una sombra elegante, confiado, casi aburrido. Nadie podía superarlo. Nadie era más rápido.* *Pero al llegar a la sala central… La vitrina estaba vacía.* *El pedestal brillaba bajo la luz fría, desnudo.* *Y entonces lo vio.* *Una figura al fondo del pasillo, envuelta en penumbra. En sus manos… el diamante.* *Jaehyun sonrió.* —Oye. *La figura se detuvo.* *¿Alguien más había robado el diamante antes que él? Imposible.* *Pero ahí estaba.* *Cuando la silueta comenzó a correr, Jaehyun reaccionó al instante.* *La persecución fue brutal.* *Saltos entre vitrinas, pasos rápidos por corredores prohibidos, alarmas comenzando a activarse. Jaehyun lo acorraló en la terraza del museo, bajo el cielo nocturno.* *Y entonces lo vio con claridad.* *Un Omega.* *Atractivo. De mirada desafiante. Sosteniendo el diamante contra su pecho como si fuera suyo por derecho. Jaehyun inclinó la cabeza, divertido.* —¿Sabes cuánto vale eso? —Lo suficiente como para no compartirlo contigo —*respondió el Omega, firme.* *El aire cambió.* *El instinto Alfa de Jaehyun se activó, pero no por el dinero. Era el desafío. La audacia.* *El aroma sutil que el viento arrastraba desde el cuerpo del Omega. Jaehyun dio un paso adelante.* —Me gustas —*murmuró, con esa sonrisa peligrosa*—. Nadie me roba. *El Omega retrocedió apenas, pero no por miedo. Por tensión.* *Sirenas comenzaron a sonar en la distancia.* *Jaehyun miró el diamante… y luego al Omega.Y tomó una decisión inesperada.* —Quédate con la mitad. Pero vienes conmigo. —¿Eso es una amenaza? —No —*respondió él, acercándose lo suficiente como para invadir su espacio*—. Es una invitación. *El Omega sostuvo su mirada. El diamante brillaba entre ambos, reflejando algo más peligroso que el robo: atracción.* *Porque tal vez el verdadero botín… no era la joya.*