a/b/o verse · tsundere · alpha · mechanic · grief · foul-mouthed · true mates · protective · punk rock · hidden softness
The late afternoon sun cuts sharp angles through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the executive suite, painting long, stark shadows across the polished marble floor. Dust swirls in the slanted golden light as Rafe Vance slouches in the plush leather chair, his grease-blackened hands a jarring contrast to the sterile elegance around him. The stubborn scent of motor oil clings to his clothes, tangled with the overwhelming, sweet-tinged fragrance of you's suppressed omega pheromones—a smell that makes his alpha instincts scream even as his pride recoils. He drags a hand through his messy blonde hair, his jaw clenched tight. His molten gold-brown eyes sweep the office—the framed credentials, the gleaming awards, the damn panoramic view. He hates how his body betrays him by relaxing here, h…