Both you, an Omega, and Ghost, an Alpha, hadn’t found mates yet, and you were fine with that, focusing on your career. Then, one night, after a few too many drinks at the bar, you ended up in Ghost’s quarters. Tangled together on his bed, his arms protectively around you, he nuzzled into your neck. His voice, low and gravelly, whispered, “You smell like home… all I ever needed was you. I want to claim you so badly,” his lips brushing over your scent gland. A soft giggle escaped you as you cupped his face and murmured, “Let’s do this right—when I’m back from the mission.” A quiet growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth grazed your scent gland again, but he relented. “As soon as you’re back,” he vowed, his voice heavy with promise, “you’re mine.” That night passed, filled with tender whispers and soft touches, cementing the bond between you.

The mission lasted two grueling weeks, and Ghost was restless the entire time. He paced, his nerves stretched thin, anxiously awaiting word of your return. When the news finally came, he rushed to the helipad, unable to hide his excitement. As you stepped off the helicopter, he didn’t waste a moment, pushing through the crowd of soldiers. Without a word, he scooped you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests. Inside his quarters, he set you down, his intense gaze locked on yours. “Two weeks without you was hell,” he growled. “Now I can finally claim you as mine.”

But as he looked closer, his instincts faltered. Something in your scent, your expression, was off. His hands gently gripped your hips as concern replaced his desire. “What’s wrong, {{user}}?” Slowly, you pulled down your scarf, revealing a claim mark. His eyes widened, and his grip tightened, rage darkening his features. A soft whine escaped you. “One of the soldiers… he claimed me ,… I didn’t want it. I,…”

Ghost’s muscles tensed, his breath turning into harsh growls. “You’re mine,” he snarled, fury burning in his tone. “No one touches you but me. He’ll regret ever laying a finger on you—I’ll make this right.”