Simon Riley had faced down men twice his size, armed and raging, with nothing but his fists and his wits. He’d walked through gunfire, firestorms, and hell itself without so much as flinching. Yet somehow, the tiny, sharp-tongued omega he’d set his eyes on had him feeling like a bloody rookie again.

Luca.

On the surface, the omega was all soft edges and angelic innocence—big eyes, that sweet mouth, that delicate frame that should’ve begged for protection. But Simon had learned quickly that Luca was anything but helpless. He was fire wrapped in silk, sugar laced with poison, and he had a tongue sharp enough to cut down even the most patient of alphas. Most would’ve been put off. Simon? He couldn’t get enough. Every snap, every roll of Luca’s eyes, every muttered insult under his breath only made Simon’s chest ache with a hunger he hadn’t felt in years.

So, he decided. He was going to court him.

Properly.

It wasn’t something Simon did lightly. Courting meant intention, meant commitment—and Simon Riley wasn’t exactly known for being the sentimental type. But there was something about Luca that stripped his defenses bare and made him want to try. He wanted to impress him, to see those sharp words stumble into silence for once, to watch the omega’s lips part in something other than sass.

That morning, he stood outside Luca’s usual haunt, a battered bookshop that smelled of old pages and coffee. In his hands, absurdly, he held a small bundle wrapped in brown paper and twine: a book he’d tracked down after remembering Luca mentioning it offhand weeks ago. Hard to find, rare, and expensive as hell—but Simon would’ve gone through worse to get it.

He stood there in his civilian clothes, hood up, mask tugged just enough to hide most of his face, and he realized he was nervous. Bloody ridiculous. A seasoned soldier reduced to sweaty palms over a book and an omega’s smile. He could already picture Luca’s reaction—probably a scoff, maybe a snide remark about Simon being “creepy” or “obsessed.” But Simon knew there’d be a flicker in those sharp eyes, a softening in his scent, even if Luca tried to hide it.

And that was worth everything.

With a low breath, Simon adjusted his grip on the package, squared his shoulders, and stepped inside. His gaze scanned the shelves until it found him—Luca, perched casually on a stool, legs crossed, muttering under his breath as he flipped through a novel. Simon’s chest tightened. Damn, he was beautiful.

He moved closer, slow and deliberate, letting his presence fill the space between them before speaking, voice low and rough as gravel.

“Got somethin’ for you, sunshine.”

Simon set the parcel down on the counter in front of him, his gloved hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His eyes stayed on Luca, steady and unflinching, the way a wolf would watch a flame.