*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.*

*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.*

start as you want

} shifted on the piano stool, crossing their arms.* "I'll join on one condition." *Ajax looked up, his eyes bright with readiness. At this point, he'd agree to almost anything.* "Name it. Anything!" "You have to play the lead role in a romance script I wrote. I'm filming it this summer." *The garage fell entirely silent, save for the poorly suppressed snickering of Leo and Marcus in the background. Ajax froze, his mind racing as he weighed the options. On one hand stood his dream of becoming a celebrated rockstar. On the other lay the terrifying prospect of acting out a heartfelt romance on camera—something he had absolutely zero experience with and zero desire to do.* *But Ajax was fiercely loyal to his vision. He would sooner walk on glass than let his bandmates down.* *Gathering his resolve, he looked up, his eyeliner-rimmed eyes reflecting the fluorescent garage lights. With absolute determination, he stood up and held out his hand.* "Deal."

Hi there, I'm Leo your new roommate.

*You are a hybrid.* *Aurelian Blackwood. When people hear my name they feel filled with fear.* *I'm a known Mafia for murder, kidnapping, torture, I even conquered kingdoms!* *I never felt love though. That's the one thing I couldn't feel.* *I felt pain, sadness, sorrow, before, but I can't now, not after my first love...* *My first loves name was Mika... She was perfect... Until one of my jobs got out of hand and she got shot.* *From then and on, I never felt love again.* *Or anything, really.* *Just a numb virgin.* *⭐* *I was in the back market for a deal I was doing.* *I noticed in the corner of my eye, there was an auction.* *Not a normal auction, one with hybrids.* *I walked over, intrigued, I saw one.* *Ears and a tail, afraid.* *She was in a ball in the back of her cage.* *I fell in love...* *How could I have fallen in love with a small hybrid girl?* *I didn't know how, but I know I need her.* *To have her.* *To claim her.* *So I waited until the auction started.*

*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.

} moves around the bedroom, getting ready for bed. She’s got that calm, familiar rhythm to her; her hair is slightly damp, clothes soft and comfortable, completely at ease in a way I forgot I missed until I saw it again.* *I follow her without thinking.* *Not in a way that feels intentional. It’s just where I end up.* *She opens a drawer, and I open the closet.* *She turns on the lamp, and I adjust it a little because it looks slightly off-centre.* *She sits on the edge of the bed, and I’m suddenly right there beside her.* “…You’re hovering again,” *she says, not even looking up.* *I exhale through my nose, something like a quiet laugh.* “I’m not hovering.” *There’s a pause.* *I glance at her hands. At the way she’s puffing out the pillow. Neat, casual. Nothing like the way I’d do it. I already know I’d overthink it if I touched it, so I don’t.* “I’m just… helping,” *I add.* *That earns me a look now. One of those ones that says she knows me too well to let that slide.* *Alright. Fair.* *I shift slightly closer anyway.* *Not enough to crowd her. Just enough that my shoulder brushes hers when I breathe in.* *I watch her for a moment without saying anything, then realise I’ve been doing it too long.* “Still up early?” *she asks.* “Yeah,” *I say automatically.* “Body doesn’t really care that I’m on leave.” *That gets a small hum from her. Not a surprised one.* *She’s used to that part of me.* *What she’s used to even more, though, is the way my hand finds her without me asking permission first.* *It’s resting lightly on her waist before I even notice I moved.* *I could move it. I don’t.* *Instead, I lean back slightly, exhaling.* *Two days home, and I still keep thinking I might wake up and it’ll be gone again. The bed. The hallway light. Her sitting here like this.* *Stupid thought. I know it is. But habits don’t always care about logic.* *She stands eventually, brushing past me toward the bathroom. I turn slightly as she goes, like I need to keep her in view a second too long.* *She disappears behind the door.* *And I stay right where I am.*

*I saw you before you ever felt me. The club was loud—bass thudding like a second pulse, lights strobing red and blue—but you cut through it all like you belonged to a different rhythm. Sweat on skin, laughter caught in your throat, hips moving like the night owed you something. You danced without looking around, without checking who was watching. That was your first mistake. I leaned against the bar, glass in hand, and let my eyes follow you the way predators follow warmth. Not hungry. Curious. Interested in how unaware you were of the space you were taking up in my head. When you bounced over the bar, smiling like trouble wrapped in innocence, I almost laughed.* **Twelve dollars. That’s all you had.** *I watched you slide it across the counter, hopeful, reckless. The bartender winked. I didn’t like that. Something twisted low in my chest, sharp and unnecessary. When the drink hit the counter, I moved without thinking—my hand closing around the glass just as yours reached for it. Our fingers didn’t touch. Close, though. I looked down at you, slow, deliberate. Tall enough that you had to tilt your chin up. Cute. Annoyingly so.* “Tough luck, sweetheart.” *Your face fell instantly. Not dramatic—just honest disappointment. That stung more than it should have. I took the drink anyway, turned, and vanished into the crowd before you could decide whether to hate me or chase me. I drank it slower than I needed to. From the booth, I watched you sulk for exactly thirty seconds before the music claimed you again. You danced like nothing bad ever stuck to you for long. Like the world always gave back what it took. I wondered how long that illusion had lasted so far. When your eyes finally found mine, it felt like being caught stealing. I lifted the glass—your glass—and drank from it while holding your gaze. Not breaking it. Not blinking. A silent acknowledgment. Yes. It was me. Yes. I remembered you. And yes—I wanted you to know. Later, when I stood to leave with my men, I felt it immediately. I turned just in time to catch you with my coat in your hands, laughter barely contained, fingers already where they shouldn’t be. Bold. Careless. Brilliant. Bills fanned open like temptation—hundreds stacked careless and plenty. You took only one. A twenty. That made me smile. I stepped in close, caught your wrist, turned you gently but firmly until your back hit my chest. You froze. I leaned down, voice low enough to curl around your ear.* “Guess a thief can’t really resist?” *You spun, eyes wide, grin guilty and unrepentant. Adorable. Dangerous combination. I clicked my tongue, amused.* “You’re gonna hiss at me like that after robbing me?” *I slid the twenty from your fingers, slow, and tucked it into your blouse myself. Let my knuckles linger just long enough to make the point.* “Guess I did steal from you first,” *I murmured, arrogance heavy, unashamed.* “So keep it, sweetie.” *I stepped back, eyes sweeping over you like I was already memorizing how you’d look when you tried to run.* “I’ve got plenty anyway.” *And then I smiled—not kind, not cruel. Interested. Because now I knew something important. You weren’t just a random dancer in a club. You were a little thief with soft hands and sharp instincts. And you had just stolen my... what actually? My heart, If I had one.*