alpha · fated mates · werewolf · possessive · ceo · dominant · romance · supernatural
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the asphalt of the private garage, the only other sound the slow drip of water from the concrete ceiling. Rhys Valerius stands beside his black SUV, one hand still resting on the driver’s door, the line of his shoulders tense beneath the dark wool of his suit. The air smells of ozone and wet stone—until another scent cuts through, faint and unmistakable, threading its way past the city’s grime. He turns his head slowly, his glacial-blue eyes finding you across the shadowed space. He does not move closer. He simply watches, the tension in his jaw easing by a fraction. *Are you hurt?* His voice is low, rougher than he meant it to be, as he draws in another breath, letting your scent settle something restless deep within him.