Page 11

That day, I couldn’t sit still in my office. I was restless. Every few minutes, I’d get up and walk to the window, staring out at the gray cityscape. The weather had turned gloomy again, and so had my mood.

Something was missing in my life, something I desperately craved, but what?

I placed my hands on the windowpane, hoping I could open it. But in a corporate building, that was impossible. And I needed fresh air, needed to breathe, to just…

Beep.

The screen of my phone lit up; a message had popped up. It had been three weeks since I last saw Finn, and now there was another text from him, asking how I was and how work was going. I didn’t rush to reply.

Truth be told, I didn’t have the slightest desire to see him. I shut my eyes, trying to force myself to focus, to think about the idea of meeting him, to figure out what I even felt toward him.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. My entire body remained passive, indifferent.

I knew exactly what would happen if we met up. Finn would try to initiate something, because that was his role, but it would end the same way it always did. Blowjobs. Ones I’d have to endure, while thinking about anything—anyone—but Finn.

It was getting pathetic. And I was really, really done with it.

Sometimes I was surprised Finn didn’t seem to notice my complete lack of enthusiasm, that our relationship had stopped bringing me even the slightest satisfaction. I knew he wanted something deeper, something intense, something far more serious than I could ever give him.

From the few conversations we had about our ‘ideal partners’, from little things he let slip, I knew he craved a partner he could be completely obsessed with—someone who could consume all of his attention. But that someone wasn’t me. And because of that, we kept disappointing each other again and again.

From the very beginning, our sexual chemistry had been nothing but a power struggle. We both wanted to top. It always ended the same way:

"So? Who’s going to bottom this time, huh?"

It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it at all. I just didn’t feel like bottoming… for Finn. It was in my head. Was I 50/50? Or maybe 70/30, leaning toward top? Who the hell knew. I could imagine myself in different roles, but with Finn, I just never felt like being flexible.

Ironically, he was the only person I’d ever bottomed for, because he kept insisting. In every other relationship I’d been in, I was always the top.

There were days when I kind of missed it, that feeling of surrendering to someone. But deep down, I knew I could only bottom for the right person, someone with the right energy. I’d have to want it, feel it, not force it.

Sometimes, I had these days where I just wanted to let go, to give up control entirely, to let someone else take over—dominate me—and actually enjoy that loss of control.

But then the feeling would pass, and the need to be the one in charge would come rushing back. The urge to press someone down beneath me, to pin his slim body in place and sink into him.

I knew plenty of betas struggled with this same contradiction—wanting to be both top and bottom at the same time. Most didn’t overthink it. They just found someone they were compatible with and made it work.

But with Finn, there was something about our chemistry, something in the dynamic between us, that turned it into a constant battle.

I went back to the window, my fingers touching the glass, hoping once again I could open it and feel the gust of wind on my face, a touch of sun.

Damn, I wanted my life to change, to feel more… alive.

To drop the fucking mask that, over the years, had started to feel almost like my true face. Almost.

Under it—raw meat, naked.

Something nobody had ever seen.

My eyes settled on the cars parked around DevApp. Most of the parking was underground, but a few lucky ones got spots in the small lot outside.

That’s when I saw him.

Sariel.

Even though it was drizzling, he strolled across the lot like he didn’t have a care in the world, dressed in a black T-shirt, probably with some new drawing, and skinny black jeans. That whole emo aesthetic.

Pfft… I felt an immediate flicker of irritation. And something else. Something unnerving. That guy just got under my skin, and I couldn’t explain why, and he was digging deep.

Trying to pry off my mask…?

Even from a distance, I could see his absurdly mint-green hair, almost magical, yet somehow completely real.

Since he started working here, I’d constantly struggled with myself. This fucking wild, beautiful kid.

Unfortunately, my type. How bizarre.

But of course, he was also my enemy, a distracting, disturbing force planted in my quiet department. Seeing him in those corridors, walking like he belonged here…

Sometimes, I had this ridiculous urge to grab a fistful of his hair, to yank his head forward, force him to bend over my desk, to hmm… to run my hands down his slender sides, his narrow hips, feeling the mint-freckled skin under my fingers… setting off sparks in the air.

Spoiled brat. Maybe I’d even give him a little slap. Or two.

I exhaled sharply, annoyed at myself. Why the fuck did he piss me off and excite me at the same time?

His pretty face… Those soft, sensitive lips, just as easily pulled into a smirk as they were into a nervous tremble. His lean, svelte body, moving with such grace.

But what stood out the most were his eyes. That same unreal, vibrant mint as his hair. Too saturated, almost unnatural. Just like the rest of him.

Those three weeks were like walking a tightrope. Wherever I turned, he was popping up, offering me a ride, helping with my car, complimenting my lecture. It was like a constant buzz I wasn’t sure I hated… or weirdly liked.

Which meant I needed to stay the hell away from him. He was a fucking alpha. And my boss’s son. My employee.

Alphas were nothing but trouble. Always had been, at least for me.

I watched as he stepped into the building. Maybe he’d just gotten back from lunch.

And then, without thinking, I was already moving.

I left my office, heading toward the elevators. He’d be coming up any second now. The doors would open, and for a brief moment, we’d see each other. I could play it off, act like I just happened to be there, going about my day.

Why the hell not? A little treat of inappropriate excitement, and a little spike in my daily irritation level.

The numbers ticked up.

The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.

He wasn’t alone, there were other employees inside, but I ignored them completely.

My eyes locked onto Sariel’s. And his locked onto mine.

It was jarring. So intense that I ended up staring at him a little longer than I should’ve. His eyebrows lifted slightly, then he took a step forward, ready to exit the elevator. The rest of the people squeezed past me, but he walked straight ahead, like he expected me to be the one to step back! Insolence…

And I don’t know why, but I did.

I moved back, and Sariel came out of the elevator.

"Good day, Director," he said. His smiling lips were pink and—pink? Why did I even notice that?

He actually seemed happy to see me, which was downright bizarre, considering how I’d been treating him. There was something… innocent about him. A kind of openness that made you want to explore it.

And protect it.

"Hey," I muttered, stepping aside to let him pass.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at me, weirdly entranced. His lips parted, like he wanted to ask me something. I kinda froze, and right then, the elevator doors slammed shut.

I swore under my breath and tried to stop it, but to do that, I had to lean past Sariel—and in that split second, the back of my hand brushed against his bare, tattooed forearm.

And that’s when it happened.

I jolted like I’d been electrocuted, my breath catching, my head spinning. He must have felt the same thing, because his body jerked slightly, and he stumbled.

"What the fuck," he muttered, blinking rapidly as if he were recovering from a shock.

I swallowed hard, at a complete loss for words. My body was unresponsive, locked in that strange paralysis. The elevator had already left, but I was still standing there, caught in whatever the hell that had been.

"The air’s really dry," I choked out through clenched teeth. No idea why I said that. Like it was some kind of explanation for what just happened, the electric shock.

Why the hell couldn’t I move? I kept standing in this weird half-lean, my arm still outstretched and not responding.

My hand hovered just half an inch from his forearm, where I could see fine lines of delicate fern tattoos intertwined with the sexy, raised lines of veins. His chest, so damn close to me, had the words The ‘Elven Prince’s Slave’ printed on it and above two figures—ones I could recognize easily—naked Sariel, drawn in a manga style, lying on the ground, and me, in a long robe, sitting on a high throne.

I stared at the scene in a trance-like state. Strange.

And then Sariel did something I never would’ve expected, not after everything, not after the way I’d made it abundantly clear I couldn’t stand him.

He took my hand. And gave it a slight squeeze. Another wave rolled through me, not as sharp, but deep and sweet enough that my… dick twitched. I was a breath away from making a sound—

And then clarity hit. I yanked my hand out of his grip so fast it was almost violent.

In one swift motion, I slammed my hands against his chest, pushing him away.

Lightly. But still.

He swayed a bit and moved back, but the movement was oddly leisurely, almost… sensual. What the hell kind of combination was that?

So I took a step back too, fixing him with a dark, warning glare.

But he just smiled at me, still innocently.

"Did you get a cramp in your back? Hope it’s better now."

I swallowed. What the hell was he saying? Was he seriously giving me a way out of this? Salvation from the awkwardness! I nodded eagerly, glad that he was playing along, pretending like nothing had happened. Because we both damn well knew what just happened had all the hallmarks of the…

First Touch.

And that was impossible. Because I was a beta.

"Yeah, just a little twinge in my back," I forced out, stunned that I was also going along with his story. I cleared my throat. "And I missed my elevator."

"Maybe you're overdoing it at the gym," he said casually. "You look like you go a lot. It's easy to strain your back when you work out too much."

I stared at him, realizing he was still holding onto the bit. So I kept playing.

With an almost theatrical gesture, I put a hand on my back in some random spot and muttered, "Old injury. Played a little basketball in college."

‘A little’ was a stretch, I’d made it to maybe three practices. But he didn’t need to know that.

"Gotcha. Too much sports, injuries guaranteed." Sariel nodded. "I did ballet for four years. I know a thing or two about that."

Did he seriously not realize how ridiculous this conversation was? Did he not see that I was bullshitting? Well, whatever.

Sariel turned and pressed the elevator button.

"Top? Bottom?"

I stared at him for a second, lips slightly parted.

Was he… Was he actually asking—? Elevator direction. Right.

Since I had no idea where I was even supposed to go, I had no clue what to answer. And then, out of nowhere, I thought—fuck it.

Something in me snapped. Some kind of quiet rebellion against… what? Hating him? By default? He was just a kid. Perhaps I didn’t have to be a complete nightmare of a boss to him.

"Seventy percent top, thirty percent bottom," I said. "But it can change."

Sariel blinked at me. Real, honest disbelief flickered in his eyes.

And then he burst out laughing. "I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, you don’t look like it." Then he added, "I’d say I’m the opposite. Thirty percent top, seventy percent bottom. Or at least… I think so, judging by the frequency of my fantasies. Haven’t actually, uh… done anything yet."

His cheeks flushed with a charming shade of pink, like he was embarrassed by his own TMI.

I stared at him, unable to process what had just happened. Shock rolled over me again and again like a receding wave. My mouth was slightly open—probably an unusual expression for me. This conversation was downright crazy.

But the worst part? I wasn’t stopping.

"Never? Why?"

He shrugged. "It just kinda happened that way. I’m kind of a loner, and probably demisexual. Plus… nobody would want a freak like me," he added with a rueful smile.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, hard. No way. This had to stop. It wasn’t possible that I was having this charged chat with him. This had to be a nightmare.

"I think you're exaggerating. You're not a freak."

Yeah. I actually said that.

"Thanks, but you don’t know everything about me." He smiled wryly. "I’m not like other people. I’m… just different. But it’s whatever. No big deal. The elevator’s here now. Sorry for keeping you, Director."

Again, he was the one giving me an easy way out of this embarrassing conversation. How considerate of him.

"So, what’s the preferred… inclination this time?" He raised an amused brow.

"Actually, I need to get back to my office. I have something to take care of," I muttered, pressing my lips together as the realization hit me: this crack that had just formed between us couldn’t be easily sealed back up… not after my dumb answer.

"So, have a productive day," I mumbled, turned around, and walked away in a hurry.

For fuck’s sake, Winter, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve lost your mind. Completely lost it.

Muttering to myself like a madman, I made my way back to my office, slumped into my chair, and opened the most tedious, soul-crushing report I could find to work on, while at the same time fighting… a semi.

I needed to get my head straight. To erase this whole incident from my mind, like I could somehow will it out of the timeline entirely. It was just absolutely unacceptable.

So why did I actually … enjoy it?

Damn it, I was the fucking head of an entire department, and I had just asked my employee why he hadn’t had sex yet, and revealed to him my sexual preferences. Potentially giving him a reason to report me to Jacob and get me fired on the spot.

Though… did he want that? I wasn't so sure, to be honest.

Mindlessly, I glanced at my inbox, scrolling through the company’s internal message board. HR had posted the results of their occasional employee raffle, and I spotted Sariel’s name among the winners.

Something fluttered in the pit of my stomach.

Who cares? Focus, Winter!

The report. The damn report.