"Wrong." Nikolai said mildly. "Your line was supposed to be… 'I love you'." He corrected, his voice softening as he said it.
At any other time, Angelo would have coolly reminded the Alpha that he couldn't fall in love. But his thanks had already been a profession of love. He was grateful to the Mafia King for saving him and for…
"Do you love me?" He asked, still wrapped up in the Alpha's arms.
It was late morning now, and the skies were still sunny and clear; it was almost a little too perfect. The sun shone brighter but still barely gave out any warmth, a cool wind blowing through the quiet park.
The acid that had only just cooled bubbled up again, scorching its way up Nikolai's throat. The possessive urge to tie Angelo to him, and the ridiculous need for the assassin to want it just as much as he did…
He had fallen in love, in the twisted way he could. "I do."
