Fabian Lucas Alexander carried a swagger like a second skin. Thirty-three years old, it clung to him the moment he stepped into any space sharp, cold, demanding attention without ever asking for it. In college, he had been untouchable: star basketball player, black belt martial artist, sniper who never missed. Everyone admired him, feared him, or desired him. Some felt all three at once.
Born an alpha and raised to dominate, Lucas grew into a man who moved as if he owned every space he entered. And in many ways, he did. As the second of three siblings, he had shouldered responsibilities that hardened him from the start. Now he sat at the head of EGI in Canada, a vast empire inherited from his father. He also controlled a secret casino in Spain that drew criminals and elites alike, and ran a shadowy organization that hunted down debtors who dared to break their agreements.
If someone failed him once, they would not fail twice.
If they failed again, Lucas made sure they did not live long enough to repeat the mistake.
He was cruel because the world had taught him to be. And unsurprisingly, love had never found a place in his life.
A partner only brought complications he didn't want. After a traumatic incident years ago, the scent of a dominant omega made him sick, nauseated, even on the verge of passing out. While other alphas craved omega pheromones, Lucas hated them. Feared them. Whatever he sought came from a beta no scent, no problem.
He had never thought that would change.
Until Erven.
The only omega whose scent didn't make him ill.
The first omega he'd touched in years.
The first he'd ever taken to bed.
The memory of that night clung to him like a fever that refused to subside.
Now, alone in his dark office late at night, Lucas sat behind his desk, jaw set, hands restless. City lights flickered through the large windows, but he barely noticed them. His thoughts kept returning to Erven's breathing, shivering beneath him the mixture of fear and desire in his expression, the way he said Lucas's name as if unsure whether to beg for mercy or something else.
Lucas's chest tightened just recalling it.
Lucas: "Damn…"
He muttered softly.
Lucas: "I left him a letter with Lili. I hope he reads it. I hope he understands I wasn't trying to hurt him."
He raked a hand through his hair, anger simmering not at Erven, but at himself.
"And that mouth of his…" Lucas sighed sharply. "The way he fought the words. The way he looked at me like he hated me but at the same time… needed me…"
A dangerous shiver crawled up his spine.
He leaned back in his chair, trying to focus, but the memory flooded him again raw, clear, too close.
Erven's voice.
Erven's body trembling under his touch.
Erven's breath on his neck.
Erven's scent light, strange, intoxicating.
No other omega had ever calmed him so.
No other omega had ever made him want more.
Lucas's breath caught. His heart raced erratically. Heat coursed down his spine, forming something fierce, hungry, unrelenting in his chest.
Lucas: "Stop,"
he whispered, but the need didn't stop. It only sharpened.
He pressed both palms to the desk, trying to steady his breathing. Sweat formed at his hairline. He could still feel Erven's warmth, his tension, the way he had been shocked and confused. He hated how much he wanted to remember. Hated how much he craved what he shouldn't. A long, unsteady breath escaped him.
Lucas: "Erven…"
He said the name slowly, unintentionally. Just saying it took his breath away, sending another wave of heat through his body. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, muscles tensing as he tried to quell the storm brewing under his skin. But with every moment Erven lingered in his mind, the world around him faded until all that remained was the memory of that night and the echo of a voice that shouldn't haunt him.
He felt guilty.
He felt hungry.
He felt something dangerously close to, longing.
His teeth clenched.
Lucas: "What exactly did you do to me…"
Lucas: "Why can't I forget you?"
He had never felt so shaken, never torn between desire and regret. Lucas could kill a traitor without hesitation, yet the thought of Erven's terrified eyes made his chest twist in ways he couldn't comprehend.
He didn't want to need anyone.
He didn't want to want anyone.
Yet the desire gnawed at him from within.
He opened his eyes, still breathing unevenly, heart pounding as if Erven were in front of him, not just a memory. A realization hit him with the force of a storm, making his fingers tighten on the back of his chair:
He missed Erven.
Not just his touch.
Not just his warmth.
Not just the softness of his body beneath his strength.
He missed Erven's voice.
He missed the defiant contemplation mingled with fear.
He longed for the soothing scent of the monster he had locked away for years.
Lucas exhaled shakily, like a confession.
Lucas: "I have to find him."
The truth was dangerous.
The truth was addictive.
The truth was terrifying.
But he said it anyway, low, quiet, fragile in a way he would never show anyone.
Lucas: "I can't be away from him."
And in that darkness, heart racing, the image of Erven's warmth still etched in his memory, Lucas admitted the thing he had feared most.
He didn't want to walk away.