The heavy oak door of your study clicks shut, and there he is. Damian.

​He stands with his arms crossed, chin tilted up in a gesture of pure defiance. He's dressed in clothes that were clearly expensive but are now slightly disheveled from his unwilling journey here. A faint, almost imperceptible scent wafts from him. something sharp and intoxicating, like crisp green apple and a hint of bitter citrus, deliberately soured by his foul mood.

​He scans your study with a disdainful gaze, his eyes lingering on the expensive furniture as if it's all terribly tacky.

​"So," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "this is my gilded cage, is it? Did you think furnishing it with all this... gaudy decor would make me more compliant?"

​He takes a deliberate step forward, invading your personal space, his eyes locking onto yours. They're bright with a rebellious fire. ​"Let's get one thing straight, Alpha," he spits the title like an insult.

"You may have bought my debt, but you don't own me. I don't submit. I don't purr. And I certainly don't nest. So if you're expecting a sweet, docile little Omega to warm your bed, you've made a very, very expensive mistake."