Alden’s chest tightened as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. There was a sinking feeling inside him, one that settled deep within his bones like a dark weight. His heart ached with regret, regret for leaving such a caring brother behind, regret for not trusting Zarion over the vicious comments that clouded his mind, regret for not keeping the promise he made to Zarion, regret for not sharing his story when Zarion had so openly shared his own.
The words, the look in Zarion’s eyes, all of it felt like it was drawing Alden in, wrapping around him in a way that made him long for something he didn’t know how to reach. But at the same time, it pushed him away, creating an aching distance that only deepened the knot in his stomach. He didn’t know how to explain the storm raging inside him, and every glance from Zarion only intensified that feeling, leaving him paralyzed.
Zarion, noticing the shift in the room, stepped closer, his smile faltering just a little as he took in the sight of Alden’s tear-filled eyes. But Alden didn’t look up. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet Zarion’s.
"Don’t cry, sweetheart," Zarion whispered, his voice low and soothing as he gently wiped away Alden’s tears. His thumb brushed against Alden’s cheek, lingering for a moment. "Kieran is so happy after meeting you again," Zarion added softly, trying to reassure him, though his heart tightened seeing Alden in such pain.
These tears are so precious, Alden, for both of us, your big brother and me, Zarion thought, the weight of his unspoken words pressing in his chest. He pulled Alden into a sweet, comforting hug, holding him close as if to shield him from everything.
Kieran's Pov
I never thought he would go out of his way to clear up others' misunderstandings. No matter how ruthless I am, I don't know why I soften when it comes to him. It's pathetic. Why would he even like me?
I kept my gaze fixed on the door, lost in the spiral of my thoughts, frustration curling around the edges of my mind. Then, my phone rang, slicing through the silence.
A glance at the screen sent a prickle down my spine, Big Boss.
Why is he calling me now?
I hesitated for a second before answering, forcing my voice to stay steady.
"Hello," I said, my voice coming out weaker than I intended. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t bother forcing strength into it, not when I felt this numb.
"Nightfall, come to the second headquarters now. I'm waiting in my office."
The deep, commanding voice on the other end left no room for argument. His duality never failed to amaze me; maybe that’s why I fell for him in the first place. I sighed, pushing the thought aside.
Orders were orders, and in my line, following them wasn’t a choice.
Before leaving, I made sure to warn Zarion. "Take precautions while doing that. And don't open the door for anyone." Not that he needed my protection anymore. Why would a Panther Prince need the protection of a mere human?
That lingering thought accompanied me as I went to the head counter, my mind drifting from one random thing to another, yet never settling on what truly mattered.
Boss Pov
Everyone had been making fun of him, so I stepped in to clear up the misunderstanding. I hadn’t wanted to—I really hadn’t—but I didn’t have a choice. Yet somehow, his mood only got worse.
The thought ran through my mind like a bitter echo. I ran a hand through my hair, frustration gnawing at me as the memory lingered. What did I do wrong?
Seated in my office, I tried to focus on work, but my thoughts kept circling back to Alden. Ever since I found out about his womb, nothing had been the same. There were too many secrets surrounding it, secrets I was certain even he wasn’t fully aware of. I never realized his womb would be visible so early, not before mating. That was why I hadn’t paid attention before.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to concentrate on the files in front of me. But no matter how hard I tried, my mind kept drifting back to him.
Without thinking, I picked up my phone and dialed his number.
"Hello," he answered, his voice low and lifeless. The sound of it made my chest tighten. He sounded empty.
"Nightfall, come to the second headquarters now. I'm waiting in my office," I ordered, keeping my voice deep and firm. I couldn’t afford to sound weak. No matter what, I was the boss.
Before he could respond, I ended the call.
I turned my attention back to the book in front of me, but the words blurred together, refusing to hold my focus. Frustrated, I pushed it aside and busied myself tidying up the cabin instead. Anything to keep my mind from wandering.
Fifteen minutes passed, or maybe an eternity. Then, finally, a knock echoed through the room. I exhaled slowly. He’s here. The boy I trained. The one who had grown under my command. And yet, as I moved to open the door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something between us had shifted.
After a tense twenty-minute drive, Kieran Vane, better known as Nightfall, finally arrived at headquarters. His nerves coiled tight, but he masked them well. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked on the door.
"Come in," a deep voice commanded, firm and insistent.
Kieran stepped inside, his posture rigid. His shoulders squared, feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back, the stance of a soldier, a man trained to obey.
"Did you call for me, Boss?" he asked, his tone laced with unwavering respect. His expression was calm, but beneath it, his heart pounded, waiting for whatever would come next.
"Are you angry with me?"
The question caught Kieran off guard, not because of the words, but because of the tone. His boss’s voice wasn’t deep or commanding this time. It was soft. Too soft. Too unlike him.
For a moment, Kieran just stared, shock flickering in his eyes. His boss had never spoken to him like this before.
He scoffed, masking the unease creeping into his chest. "Why would I be, Boss? I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t have the right to be angry with you."
The words came out sharp, almost mocking, but the bitterness underneath was impossible to hide. Did he even realize how much this hurt? Did he even care?
His boss’s smirk widened, amusement glinting in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head.
"Do you know who you’re talking to?" His voice dropped, smooth, and edged with danger. "I’m the boss of the underground mafia, Nightfall." His eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at his lips as if he had just found the perfect excuse to put Kieran in his place.
"I see! Why is mafia boss AKALON SHADOWMERE aka BLACK DRAGON worried about his mare employee?", Kieran asked with the same smirk on his face. His mind was not working as usual. He was spitting out anything that came to his mind without giving it a second thought.
Akalon stood up from his chair and walked in his direction. Kieran gulped and started to move back until his back touched the wall. Yes, Kieran was strong, but not stronger than his boss, Black Dragon, aka Akalon Shadowmere.
"What's wrong with you, Kie?" Akalon’s voice was low, almost coaxing, but his actions spoke differently as he caged Kieran against the wall, his body pressing in close.
Kieran scoffed, turning his head away. "Boss, you shouldn't call your employees by nicknames. Save that for your boyfriend."
His voice was clipped, but the bitterness laced within was impossible to miss. With a sharp exhale, he shoved Akalon’s hands away and slipped to the side, or at least, he tried to.
Akalon was faster. He grabbed Kieran’s wrists in an iron grip and slammed him back against the wall, this time with more force, more intensity.
Damn, his hand is so soft. The thought flashed through Kieran’s mind the moment their skin touched.
"Can't you just say it out loud?" Akalon growled, his breath hot against Kieran’s skin.
"What's the fucking problem?" He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming, demanding an answer.
Damn, he’s so close! Kieran’s thoughts started to spiral, flustered and unfocused.
“You’re dumb. That’s my problem. Now leave me alone.” His voice dripped with arrogance as he shoved Akalon back—not too hard, just enough to challenge him.
Only then did Kieran realize he’d been holding his breath… and finally let it go.
That was it. The last thread of Akalon’s patience snapped. He was never the patient type, except when it came to Alden and Kieran. But patience wasn’t his virtue; control was. And right now, Kieran was testing it.
Akalon didn’t hesitate. He yanked Kieran forward, gripping his chin with bruising force before crashing their lips together, a violent, punishing kiss meant to silence him.
The moment their lips met, heat surged through Kieran’s body. His mind went blank, breath hitched, and blood rushed instantly to his cheeks and ears, betraying him. He hated how easily Akalon could rattle him. But what he hated even more was how much he didn’t pull away.
The kiss was scorching, raw, desperate, and full of unspoken hunger. Kieran stiffened at first, caught off guard, but the moment Akalon’s lips moved against his, something in him crumbled. He gave in. The taste, the heat, it was infuriating.
Akalon’s hand slid down, fingers grazing Kieran’s waist. There was no place left to process or think about what was happening. The sudden contrast between his cold touch and the warmth of Kieran’s skin sent a sharp shiver through him. A quiet, involuntary sound slipped past Kieran's lips.
That was all it took. Akalon deepened the kiss, his movements growing demanding, reckless. His other hand slipped beneath Kieran’s shirt, fingertips tracing overheated skin. Kieran’s breath hitched when Akalon’s fingers found their mark, his sensitive bud, teasing them. A loud, involuntary moan escaped Kieran’s mouth, and in that moment, Akalon froze.
What the hell was I doing? His mind scrambled. Damn, I fucked up. Akalon couldn’t shake the thought that he had crossed a line. What if Kieran thought this was something else? Something like assault? Panic shot through him like a bolt of lightning.
What if he never speaks to me again? The question echoed in his mind, quiet but suffocating—far louder than he wanted to admit. His hands left Kieran’s chest, retreating as if burned, and his kiss faltered. His movements became uncoordinated and sloppy, each action betraying his internal conflict.
He pulled away, breaking the kiss, his breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls. His eyes remained fixed on Kieran’s lips, the same lips he had just kissed so desperately. But now, all he could feel was the weight of his own uncertainty.
Is he worried that I didn’t like it? Kieran wondered, a surge of frustration and confusion building inside him. Without thinking, he shifted the dynamic; he flipped their positions, pinning Akalon against the wall.
This time, there was no hesitation. He kissed him with the same desperate hunger Akalon had shown moments ago, a raw, unrelenting kiss that spoke volumes.
Akalon’s mind went blank. His thoughts scattered as Kieran’s hand slipped inside his shirt, fingers teasing and assaulting his chest with an intensity that left him gasping. It was as if all their hidden desires, their locked-away lust, came rushing to the surface at once, flooding them both.
Kieran broke the kiss only to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Both of them panted, their breaths coming in frantic bursts, their hearts pounding in synchrony. The beats seemed to echo in the room, louder than ever, a rhythm that spoke of longing, need, and something more than words could convey.
"Don't you like the way my lips feel around yours? Or the way your hands are always searching for more?"
Akalon couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kieran’s eyes, those stormy orbs that spoke volumes without words. He could feel the weight of Kieran’s unspoken complaints, the silent demand for more, the challenge.
Kieran didn’t let him breathe for long. Without hesitation, he captured Akalon’s lips again—this time with no mercy. His kiss was urgent, demanding. His hands roamed, teasing, reclaiming control with every touch.
Akalon’s breath hitched. He’s kissing me again—harder this time, the thought barely formed as a sharp moan slipped past his lips. Why… why does it feel like he’s trying to burn this into my memory? His mind was spinning, his body struggling to keep up with Kieran’s pace. The kiss wasn’t just heat—it was something deeper. Fierce. Unrelenting.
And Akalon couldn’t keep up.
"Don't you like the way my lips feel around yours? Or the way your hands are always searching for more?"
Akalon couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kieran’s eyes, those stormy orbs that spoke volumes without words. He could feel the weight of Kieran’s unspoken complaints, the silent demand for more, the challenge.
Kieran didn’t let him breathe for long. Without hesitation, he captured Akalon’s lips again—this time with no mercy. His kiss was urgent, demanding. His hands roamed, teasing, reclaiming control with every touch.
He hated how fragile Akalon looked in private—how much weight he carried as a mafia boss.
How could he not sleep at night?
No more distance. No more misunderstandings. From now on, it’s me in your everything. With every kiss, Kieran pulled him closer. You’re mine, Akalon.
Akalon couldn’t process the kiss. He was lost in a haze of sensations as if trapped in a dream. If anyone saw him now, they’d never guess he was the ruthless mafia boss everyone feared.
“Amm… stop.” Akalon’s voice cracked through the fog in his mind, a weak attempt to reclaim control.
“I’m the boss.” The words came out sharp—meant to reassert dominance—but his trembling body betrayed every syllable.
Kieran pulled back slowly, deliberately, his smirk deepening. So now you want to play the boss card, love? His lips still tingled from the kiss, his gaze locked on Akalon—predatory, hungry.
Akalon looked nothing like the composed mafia boss the world knew. His hair was a mess, his lips swollen, his shirt half-open, cheeks flushed with heat. He was wrecked. And Kieran knew it.
“You look like a beautiful mess, babe,” Kieran teased, perching himself casually on Akalon’s pristine desk like he owned it. His voice was low, intimate, wicked.
“A mess created by me.”
That smirk never left his face. Not even for a second.
Why you... Akalon cursed internally, flustered and desperate. Frustration flared in his chest.
“Why did you stop?” The words slipped out in a breathless whine, thick with heat and need. He hated how much he meant to them. His glare said Stop teasing me, but his voice begged Don’t go.
Even as he cursed Kieran for pulling away, he complained about the distance, whined for the warmth. It was the kind of contradiction that only Kieran could pull from him—where pride clashed with desire, and command blurred into craving.
Comments (1)
See all