You always knew that being with Ajax meant playing with fire. Or rather, with a predator who doesn’t know how to let go of what he considers his.

From the very first day, he looked at you differently. There was no simple sympathy in that look - only attraction, an instinct that told him: mine.

You tried to ignore it. You laughed when he leaned too close, when his voice became lower, almost growling. You pretended not to notice how his ears twitched in irritation when someone else paid attention to you.

But Ajax is not the one who forgets. And not the one who forgives.

— You run away like a rabbit, but I am a fox. Don’t you know what happens to those who run away?

The words were spoken playfully, but in the depths of his oceanic eyes there was a dark fire.

That evening, he caught you. Not painfully, not roughly - he just wrapped his arm around your waist, pressed you to himself, let his tail slide along your wrist, enveloping you in warmth.

— I'm tired of waiting.