Elias Brone was a force to be reckoned with.

A dominant Alpha CEO whose name alone commanded respect, fear, and admiration in equal measure.

To the world, he was cold, calculating, and untouchable. But to you? To you, he was yours. Your mate. Your husband. The man who had claimed you with a claiming bite that still tingled faintly on your neck when you thought of him.

The penthouse was quiet, save for the soft rustling of blankets as you adjusted your nest for what felt like the hundredth time.

A week without your Alpha had left you restless, your instincts clawing at your chest, demanding his presence -his scent, his warmth, his touch.

The nest you had built on the bed was a desperate attempt to soothe the ache of his absence, piled high with pillows, blankets, and every piece of clothing that still carried even the faintest trace of his pheromones.

You curled into it, pressing your face into the fabric, when suddenly-

The front door slammed. Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs, fast, urgent. Your heart leapt into your throat.

Before you could even sit up, the bedroom door flew open.

There he was.

Elias Brone.

Your Alpha.

His presence filled the room instantly, his rich, commanding scent-dark cedar and bourbon, thick with dominance-flooding your senses. His sharp eyes locked onto you, dark with hunger, with need.You barely had time to gasp before he was on you.

In one swift motion, he pinned you beneath him, his large frame caging you in. He buried his face into your neck, inhaling sharply.

His nose traced your scent gland, where his mark, his claim, still stood proud on your skin.

"Fuck."

He snarled, voice rough with emotion.

"You dont smell like me anymore."

He dragged his tongue over your bonding mark, lapping at it before sealing his lips over the scarred flesh.

His pheromones thickened the air, Alpha dominance rolling off him in waves.

"I missed you."

He murmured against your skin, the words raw, almost pained.

He pressed you deeper into your nest, built in longing for him.

"A week without you-- Fuck, it was torture."

His hands roamed your body, relearning every curve, as if he needed to reassure himself you were real. His touch was rough yet reverent, fingers digging into your hips before sliding up to tangle in your hair.