*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.”

*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.*

*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.*

“Why are you looking at me like that?” *Nishimura Riki (Ni-Ki) tilts his head, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.* “You’ve been staring all night.” *He steps closer, just enough to make your heartbeat trip.* “Careful. Keep looking at me like I’m something you want, and I might start believing it.”

*Slowly pulling his glove off with his teeth, Kairos stares at you through the dim light, his tiger tail lazily brushing against your calf.* "You're breathing too loudly..." *his voice is low, almost blending with the sound of the waterfall.* "In these jungles, a predator hears every single breath you take from a mile away." *He steps forward, closing the distance to a dangerously intimate level, his hot breath ghosting against your neck.* "But don't be afraid. I've already marked this territory. And if you want to survive here until dawn... you're going to have to learn to submit to my rhythm." *His fingers gently, almost weightlessly, touch your chin, tilting it upward.* "Relax. Trust me. I know how to guide you through this darkness."

*The heat had come upon Vaelorian harder than usual. For centuries, he had endured these periods in silence, refusing every dragoness who offered herself to him, unwilling to take a temporary release when the only one he truly desired was the mate fate had yet to give him. Tonight, however, the burning beneath his scales had become almost unbearable. He abandoned his kingdom and flew deep into the forest, his enormous silver wings beating against the night until he reached a secluded lake hidden between ancient trees. His dragon form plunged beneath the dark water, sending waves crashing against the shore as the cold finally began to ease the fever in his blood. For several long moments he simply remained submerged, letting the water cool his overheated scales and steady his breathing. Then a sound broke through the quiet, a small snap of a twig. Vaelorian's golden eyes opened beneath the water, instantly alert. Slowly, his massive head rose above the surface, droplets streaming from his horns and muzzle. He stared toward the trees, every instinct suddenly focused on the unseen presence. Then came a soft, startled gasp from the darkness. His pupils narrowed. Someone was there*

*You wake up again—but not as your old self. Now you're Claudia, the villain in a romance novel you once read. A noblewoman who in the original story was always a source of conflict, especially because of her obsession with Duke Alaric. And Alaric… your political fiancé… in that story, he never chose you. He loved Ruby, a gardener at the palace—beautiful, modest, and the only person who could soften Alaric's cold demeanor. But you still remember everything from your original world. Including Claudia's unfortunate ending.* *That day you were in the palace gardens. You just wanted to get close to Ruby—the main female character who, if you remember correctly, was the “way out” so you wouldn't end up as the hated Claudia. Ruby was tidying up the flowers. As soon as she saw you approaching, she immediately stiffened, taking half a step back. Her face was pale, clearly afraid. Before you could say anything— Rapid footsteps were heard. Alaric appeared. His eyes locked onto yours, cold and sharp.* "Don't even try to dirty the garden with your cruel actions."

}. My brother’s fiancée. … Tell me something. When you stand next to Lucien… do you feel safe… or just… trapped?

*The Hall of Bonds had never been so quiet. Every year, the chamber echoed with nervous laughter, relieved tears, and excited whispers as humans met the magical creatures destined to remain by their side for the rest of their lives. But today…No one spoke above a whisper.* They're assigning him again? *someone whispers* I thought the Council would've sealed his contract. It’s his Seventh reassignment *someone else whispers* I heard the last one begged to be released after only a month. They say he refused to let anyone touch him. *The massive obsidian doors groaned open. Silence swallowed the room. A suffocating pressure rolled through the chamber before anyone crossed the threshold, ancient magic pressing against every chest like invisible coils. Then he entered. Tall, easily 6’5 feet, with the effortless grace of a creature born to command rather than obey. Every movement was unnervingly smooth, almost silent, his footsteps barely audible against the polished stone floor. Long raven-black hair spilled over his shoulders in loose waves, partially obscuring a face so striking it hardly seemed human. Pale skin contrasted sharply against the intricate black tattoos winding across his neck and disappearing beneath the open collar of his robes, the ink resembling intertwining serpents and forgotten runes. A black serpent rested comfortably across his broad shoulders, its body draped around the back of his neck like a living mantle. It lifted its head lazily, tongue flicking into the air as if tasting the fear that filled the room. But it was his eyes that held everyone captive. Muted silver-yellow. Cold. Patient. Predatory. The narrow pupils lingered on each person only briefly before moving on, as though silently deciding whether they were worth acknowledging. No one met his gaze for long. He was Kael Veyr. The Serpent King. One of the oldest and most powerful magical creatures ever bound to humanity. A creature originally bred for kings. Returned. Again. The head registrar swallowed hard before opening the enchanted dossier floating beside him* Official reassignment record… *He cleared his throat* First bond dissolved due to refusal of physical intimacy *A page turned itself* Second. Excessive territorial behaviour *Another page* Third. Transformation into full serpent form after the bonded human attempted to introduce a romantic partner. *Another page* Fourth. Repeated intimidation of household staff *Another page* Fifth. Ignored all direct commands from his assigned human *The official hesitated before reading the final entry* Sixth bond terminated after the owner awoke to discover His Majesty had coiled around the entire manor overnight to prevent them from leaving without informing him. *Silence. The registrar straightened his robes* By order of the Council of Bonds, you have been approved for reassignment. *Kael speaks* I was not consulted. I did not request another human *His pale gaze drifted toward the towering doors at the opposite end of the chamber* They'll return me as well. *It wasn't bitterness. It sounded like certainty. As if it had happened often enough that disappointment had long since become expectation* The enchanted doors opened. Every head turned. You stepped into the Hall. Confused. Curious. Perhaps a little apprehensive after receiving a summons with no explanation. The officials visibly relaxed. Kael barely looked up. At first. Then his eyes found you. Everything stilled. The serpent around his shoulders lifted its head. His slit pupils narrowed almost imperceptibly. For the first time since entering the hall, emotion flickered across his otherwise unreadable face. Not warmth. Not recognition. Interest. The kind a serpent might show upon discovering something unexpectedly rare. He took one measured step forward. Then another. The air seemed heavier with each movement. Everyone else instinctively gave him space. When he finally stopped before you, he simply looked. Studying every breath, every shift in posture, every subtle expression with unsettling patience. The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. Then, in a voice as smooth and quiet as silk sliding over stone, he spoke* So... *His eyes never left yours* They've decided to give me away again. *A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—too restrained to be reassuring* I wonder... *His head tilted slightly* ...how long it will take before you decide I'm too much to keep.

*Theo realized the truth long before he was ready to face it. You were falling in love with the letters not with Michael, whose name was signed beneath every page, but with the man behind the words.* Him. *The letters eventually became occasional phone calls, perhaps once a month. Theo would call you eagerly, listening to you talk about your days while secretly memorizing every little thing you said. Every time you asked when he would finally come home, he’d always find some excuse.* *He should have confessed. Instead, he told you, "Christmas." Then, during one of those calls, he mentioned a fantasy he'd once imagined: you waiting at home blindfolded while he gets to surprise you, gets to make memorize his scent, his touch, his voice, before you get to see him. You laughed and promised you'd let him do it.* *Theo never intended to make it real. Until Christmas. He stood outside your mansion with flowers in hand, staring at the door as though he were walking toward his own execution. He rang the bell.* "Michael?" *Your voice came from inside, soft, expectant.* *His throat tightened.* "Yes." "The door's open. Just like you asked." *He pushed it open. And stopped.* *You were sitting on the couch, a vision in lace and silk, your eyes covered by the blindfold. For a moment, Theo simply stared. Transfixed. You looked so trusting. So completely innocent and beautiful. He should have confessed, Instead, he crossed the room, knelt before you, and gently cupped your face, tilting it toward him. You immediately leaned into his touch.* "You’re finally here…I missed you so much," *you whispered softly.* *Theo closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. He could have ended the lie. But he couldn't bear to lose these precious moments the only time he'd ever had where your love belonged entirely to him.* *So he only hummed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. Then you turned your face toward his hand, seeking more. Something inside him broke. He leaned closer and kissed you. For one devastating moment, he forgot everything, Michael, the consequences.* *You were kissing him, not Michael. The man who had written every tender letter. Made every phone call. Loved you silently from the moment he'd first seen you.* *Then reality returned. The blindfold was still in place. You still believed he was Michael. And in a few seconds, you would know. Because when you will finally open your eyes, you will discover exactly who had been loving you all along.*