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A heavily tattooed arm flashing in his peripheral vision was followed by firm fingers gripping his chin and tilting his face up to look at the man he was supposed to marry.

Hazel eyes entranced him as he did his best not to imagine what his mate’s beard would feel like rubbing against his inner thighs.

He’d never had a thing for ginger hair before, but his mate’s was the exact shade of cadmium orange he’d named himself for with his artist pseudonym, and now he couldn’t imagine anything more stunning.

Emilio’s nostrils flared as he fought his wolf’s urge to press closer and bare his throat to entice a mating bite.

For fuck’s sake. Sometimes shifter instincts were a real pain in the neck.

And the cock. He was throbbing so hard you could probably see his pulse through his pants.

“Look at you all hard and needy,” Rocco said. So much for the compression shorts hiding his shame.

Anger cut through his arousal at this arrogant asshole for assuming he could talk to him like that in front of his Alpha and two men who were all but strangers.

“Shhh… Don’t worry, gorgeous. They can’t hear me, and all they’ll see if they look at us are two men in conversation. I could fuck you over that desk right now and they wouldn’t know. Well, not until I released the spell, and they smelled your cum all over you.”

Emilio’s eyes widened in surprise despite himself. That was some powerful fucking magic right there. Air witches were renowned for their ability to cast glamours and illusions, but this was next level.

“That is not happening,” Emilio growled.

Rocco smirked. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I assume there’s a reason for the theatrics. Just tell me what you want already so we can get this negotiation over with. I have places to be.”

Rocco’s thumb brushed over his lips as his eyes traced over his face and it took everything in him not to suck the digit into his mouth.

“You’re being much more well-behaved than I expected. I thought I’d have to restrain you to get this close,” the witch murmured, sliding his hand down Emilio’s neck until he was clasping his nape and stroking over his throat—scenting him like a wolf would .

Emilio snarled, but couldn’t bring himself to pull free. His wolf was in ecstasy inside him, chanting a litany of yes and mate in his head on repeat. Fuck.

“I’m just doing as my Alpha asked.”

Rocco’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened, restricting his blood flow for a second. “You’re mine now.”

What the fuck? The human shouldn’t be able to feel the mating bond like he could, which meant this caveman routine must be part of Rocco’s natural personality. Just his luck that he’d be stuck with a human who had even more alpha hang-ups than a shifter.

“Not until we sign the contract,” Emilio said, finally wresting control of his errant body from his wolf to pull away from Rocco’s touch.

The witch didn’t like that one bit, pushing into his space and backing him up until he was pressed against the wall with Rocco’s hand wrapped around his throat once more.

Emilio all but vibrated in his hold as Rocco leaned in close, running his nose down his carotid artery before biting down gently right where a mating bite was never going to happen.

His eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure at the sharp tease, and he almost came on the spot.

“Stop.” His protest was half-hearted at best.

“Mmm… you taste delicious. I knew you would. I don’t do ‘ stop ,’ gorgeous. That’s what I needed to tell you before we got started on this negotiation. Pick a safe word.”

“Fuck off.”

“Not the best choice, but sure if that’s what you want to go with.”

Emilio huffed in frustration, struggling to concentrate as Rocco continued to press biting kisses up his throat to his ear that left a tingling sensation like his magic was seeping into his skin in their wake.

“I don’t need a safe word. This is an arranged marriage, not a fucking kink contract.

I have no intention of having sex or any other kind of scene with you.

If I don’t like what you’re doing, I’ll just rip your balls off,” he said, reaching out to squeeze said balls and discovering Rocco was every bit as hard—and as big—as he was.

He could feel the air witch smiling against his skin before Rocco stepped away from his grip.

His wolf whined at the loss of contact, but he had bigger problems to deal with because some invisible force was still holding him pinned to the wall, even though Rocco’s hands were no longer on him.

Fucking air witches. And why wasn’t his damn bracelet reacting to the threat of Rocco’s magic?

“A non-verbal safe word is a good idea when we’ve got company, but that one doesn’t work for me. You can bite your lip or tap out if you want me to stop, but you need to pick a word as well.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Consent is sexy, puppy.”

Emilio blinked in confusion, genuinely speechless for the first time in his life.

He was no stranger to being too much for people.

His own mother had abandoned their family when she’d stumbled upon the torture room where they questioned people and found him arranging someone’s entrails for his photography.

How had fate paired him up with a guy who was just as unhinged as he was?

“Do you still talk to your mother?” he asked.

Rocco blinked, cocking his head in confusion at the change in subject. “Yeah, my family’s really close, but they don’t live in the city. She works for the Supernatural Council, so she travels a lot.”

“You’re a member of a drug-dealing criminal motorcycle club, and your mother works for the Supernatural Council?”

“The Council orchestrated the three families ruling here, so she can hardly complain. Stop changing the subject, puppy. Safe word?”

“Vermillion,” Emilio said, too quickly, his mouth responding to the dominance in Rocco’s voice before he could stop himself. The safe word—his least favourite shade of red to paint with, due to the toxic chemicals it stunk of that was hell on his sensitive nose—was a hangover from art school.

“You’ve used that before,” Rocco accused, nostrils flaring.

Emilio rolled his eyes. “I’m thirty-seven, Rocco. I’m not a fucking virgin.”

“Shifters don’t usually even bother with safe words. You’re all convinced you’re invincible.”

“I’ve lived overseas a long time. I don’t only play with shifters.”

“You don’t play with anyone but me now.”

“We’re not playing at all. This is a marriage on paper only.”

“So you’re going to be celibate for the rest of your life? I don’t think so. If they’re going to use you to spank me, I don’t see why I shouldn’t get to spank you back. My safe word’s zephyr , by the way, because there’s nothing soft or gentle about me.”

Emilio rolled his eyes at the ridiculous statement, but it took everything he had not to groan as arousal shot through him at Rocco’s words.

He wasn’t submissive in the traditional sense—he was still an alpha wolf shifter, for fuck’s sake—but the push and pull of someone who wasn’t afraid to match his roughness was an aphrodisiac.

As was the knowledge that this human who was physically so much weaker than him could still put him in place with his damn magic.

Not that he could risk pushing back physically with Rocco.

His control was already hanging by a thread.

“Whatever. Can we finalise this contract already?”

The pressure holding him to the wall released suddenly, and voices filled the air as Rocco dropped the sound barrier he’d erected.

“Everything okay?” Marco asked him from one of the seats nearby, a hint of a smirk on his face as he caught just how tightly wound Emilio was.

Emilio jerked his chin in assent and stalked past his fiancé to sit down in the chair next to his Alpha. “Let’s just get this over with. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Marco handed him the draft contract as Rocco settled on the leather couch nearby.

Why they couldn’t have emailed the damn thing beforehand was beyond him.

He knew Marco and Blaze had hashed out most of the detail between them already in terms of the political requirements between the crime families.

The parts he needed to review were the more personal requirements—where they’d live, public appearances he was expected to attend to sell the engagement to the Cruor Coven and the rest of the city, the monogamy requirement he’d had no intention of abiding by before he realised Rocco was his mate and he no longer wanted anyone else. Damn him. And… stalking?

“Why the fuck does this say I agree to this asshole following me when I’m out in public?” Emilio snapped, glaring at the MC President.

There was no way he could agree to this.

He had too many secrets. He could count the number of people in New Trinity City who knew he was an assassin on one hand.

The number who knew he was the renowned, mysterious street artist Cadmium was even fewer.

His work pushed boundaries that could draw attention to the pack in a way he couldn’t afford. That was his excuse, anyway.

“Blaze, that wasn’t what we discussed,” Rocco growled, surprising Emilio .

When he turned to his fiancé in question, the man was glaring at his president.

“We discussed that monogamy included all aspects of your… preferences. I won’t have a repeat of what happened with Andy,” Blaze said.

Emilio’s head tilted in question. Who the fuck was Andy? He really should’ve taken the time to do a proper background check on this guy earlier. Luckily, he’d be seeing Luca that evening, and he was sure his hacker cousin would’ve torn his fiancé’s online life apart for his inspection.

“I don’t need you to negotiate my sex life,” Rocco said. “I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”

“And I won’t be agreeing to that,” Emilio added.

Rocco turned to him. “Why? Scared your wolf senses will fail you and you won’t know I’m there? Aren’t you supposed to be the big, bad predator?”