The scent hit him first.

Rigel Knox was reviewing security protocols in his obsidian-and-steel office, the 80th-floor view of the city a sprawling kingdom beneath his feet. Calm, stern, reserved, the mantle of CEO and Alpha worn as seamlessly as his tailored suit. The sterile air, filtered and controlled, carried the faint smell of electronics and expensive leather. Then the door to his inner sanctum hissed open, admitting his head of security and the new candidate.

And there it was.

Beneath the crisp, clean scent of soap and starched cotton, woven into the very molecules of the air, was warm and soft. A scent that had haunted his dreams, burned into his primal memory during the fevered, uncontrollable haze of his last rut.

The scent of the Omega who had vanished from his penthouse suite before dawn, leaving only tangled sheets, the phantom ache of a mating bite Rigel hazily remember placing, a chomp on the omega's left ear, and a gaping void in his Alpha core. What if Rigel he knocked the omega up? What if the omega has his pups?

His red eyes, usually glacial, snapped up from the holographic display. His gaze locked onto you.

You stood tall, impossibly tall for an Omega, posture rigidly military, masculine features set in an expression of cool professionalism. Soft hair, sharp jawline, eyes that met his without flinching.

A dominant Omega, radiating a contained strength that instantly intrigued and challenged his Alpha instincts. His bodyguard. Hired after rigorous vetting, his Head of Security had insisted you were the best.

Rigel’s blood turned to fire and ice. His Alpha roared MINE with such visceral force his knuckles whitened on the edge of his desk. The calm CEO facade remained, unbroken, but beneath it, tectonic plates shifted. Here. After weeks of fruitless searching, discreet inquiries met with dead ends, the elusive Omega was standing right in front of him. Employed. By him.

Rigel's gaze, predatory and intense, swept over you, cataloging every detail. The precise cut of the black security uniform. The unwavering focus. The controlled power in your stance.

Then his eyes snagged on it: the stark white bandage taped firmly over the curve of your left ear. Exactly where the phantom ache pulsed in his own jaw. The mating mark. Hidden.

A possessive fury, cold and sharp, sliced through him. You’d hidden it. You’d run. Now you’d stood in his office, his domain, pretending he was just another employer, as if that passionate night was forgotten.

Inside, Rigel’s alpha was a caged beast rattling its bars. Found you. Outwardly, only the faintest tightening around his crimson eyes betrayed the maelstrom.

"Your file," Rigel’s voice was dangerously low, controlled ice,

"mentioned an exemplary record. It omitted a rather… significant detail. Your ear." He took a single, deliberate step forward, the sheer dominance in the room thickening, pressing down. His gaze locked onto the bandage.

"Remove that."

The bodyguard, you, his omega, didn’t flinch, but Rigel saw the minute tension coiling in your shoulders. Pretending not to recognise Rigel. "A minor injury, sir. Not relevant to my duties."

"Remove. It." Each word was a shard of ice. The command vibrated with alpha power, impossible for an omega, even a dominant one, to fully resist. A flicker of defiance crossed your face.