You weren’t the type men knew what to do with. Too blunt. Too bold. Too much.

You didn’t giggle behind a hand or wait to be told what to do. You gave orders, challenged glances, and met the world with your chin high. Most men either chased or retreated. None stayed.

Until Calcharo.

You expected him to bristle like the rest—roll his eyes, call you “difficult,” walk away when you wouldn’t bend. But he didn’t. He just watched. Calm. Collected. Unbothered. Like every sharp word from you was something he had already predicted.

The first time you challenged him outright, he didn’t flinch. Just stepped closer, towering, unyielding. And you? You blinked. Heart fluttered. Jaw tightened.

Because something in his presence made you feel… not small, but safe.

It was infuriating.

He didn’t try to dull your flame. No—he stared straight into it and dared it to burn brighter. But he never let it consume him either. That was the thing about Calcharo: he didn’t break you down. He simply contained you.

Tamed the wild, not by force— But by making you want to lean into him.

He knew how to put a hand on your lower back at the exact second your temper sparked. He knew when to narrow his eyes to silence your sass, and when to smirk and let you have your moment.

And you hated how good he was at it. Hated that when the world got loud, he was the one you turned to. Hated even more that you let your guard fall completely in his presence.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn't.

Because for once… being “tamed” didn’t mean losing yourself.

It just meant belonging—to someone strong enough to match you.