The sound of boots echoed down the marble hallway, each step deliberate and full of authority. Elian Voss gripped the railing from the upper floor, holding his breath as the man entered the house below.

General Kael Thorne. Thirty-one. Decorated war hero. Stoic. Ruthless. And now, apparently, the man his parents had chosen to marry his sister.

Elian expected someone old. Harsh. Maybe even boring.

Not… that.

Kael stood tall in his black dress uniform, posture perfect, hair military neat, with broad shoulders that filled the doorway and sharp eyes that scanned the room like he was reading everyone’s weaknesses. He wasn’t smiling, not even pretending. His jaw was set like carved stone, lips pressed into a straight line.

And when those dark eyes flicked upward—toward the stairs, toward Elian—they paused.

Just for a moment.

Elian’s heart stuttered.

He ducked back behind the curtain like a criminal.

God.

This was a disaster.

Because General Thorne wasn’t just attractive—he was… magnetic. Dangerous in the kind of way that made Elian’s skin tingle and his stomach twist. And it wasn’t just lust. It was the way the air shifted when the man entered the room. Like he wasn’t here to join a family. He was here to own it.

---

Downstairs, his parents welcomed Kael with too-wide smiles and over-polished words. His father puffed up his chest, trying to appear important in front of a man who’d probably commanded death like a second language. His mother gestured gracefully toward the formal parlor. Tea was served. Kael said nothing.

Elian’s sister, Merea, sat stiffly beside their mother. Her hands were clasped too tightly in her lap.

She looked like a statue.

Elian knew why.

She had a boyfriend. Jay. A gentle, artistic soul who worked at a coffee shop and loved her with soft eyes and stained fingers. Their relationship had been a secret, hidden under scarves and sneaked-out nights. Only Elian knew. And when the arrangement came through for this marriage with a military official—negotiated like some business contract—she wept in his arms for hours.

They’d made a plan.

Run away. The night before the wedding. Disappear and leave this whole mess behind.

Elian agreed, swore to cover for her. Said he’d lie, scream, whatever it took. But that was before Kael walked into the house like a storm in a pressed uniform.

Now?

Elian was having… thoughts.

Terrible, wrong, selfish thoughts.

He watched from the landing, breath shallow. Watched as Kael said almost nothing, yet dominated the entire room just by existing. Watched as Kael’s eyes—once more—found him. Not Merea. Him.

---

Later, after dinner, when the parents clapped their hands and said, “Why don’t the bride and groom have a moment alone to talk?” Elian knew it was time.

This was it.

The moment before everything broke.

He followed quietly, steps light, unnoticed as Kael and Merea ascended the stairs. He watched his sister cast him a wide-eyed glance—fear and apology mingled in her expression—and then Kael placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her toward her room.

Elian’s breath caught.

When they stepped inside, Elian moved.

Fast.

He slipped in behind them—silent as a shadow—and before either could speak or turn around, he reached out and clicked the door lock shut.

Click.

The sound was final.

Kael turned, slow and measured. One brow raised.

Merea froze, caught between confusion and panic.

“Elian—what are you doing?” she hissed.

But Elian didn’t answer her.

His eyes were locked on Kael.

“This marriage can’t happen,” he said. His voice was steady. Stronger than he expected, though his fingers trembled at his sides.

Kael looked at him like one might observe a curious insect. Not threatening. Not warm. Just... watching.

Elian stepped forward.

“She’s in love with someone else. Been with him for a year. She can’t tell you because she’s scared, but I’m not.”

“Elian,” Merea whispered, grabbing his arm.

He didn’t flinch. He kept his eyes on Kael.

“So if you’re looking for someone in this family to marry,” Elian said, lifting his chin, “take me instead.”

Merea gasped. “No—what are you saying?!”

But Kael didn’t move.

Not a blink. Not a breath.

Elian’s heart thundered. His mouth felt dry. But his skin burned.

And then—like a fuse already lit—he surged forward, grabbed the collar of Kael’s uniform, and kissed him.

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t practiced. It was wild, stupid, desperate—heat and nerves rolled into a single reckless act.

Kael didn’t respond.

Didn’t stop it, either.

When Elian pulled back, breathless, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a mile, Kael was still staring at him.

Then Kael turned to Merea.

“You love someone else?”

Her mouth trembled. She nodded.

Kael exhaled—through his nose, slow, like a man recalibrating an entire battle strategy. Then he looked back at Elian.

His eyes were unreadable.

But a flicker of something new lived there now.

Amusement?

Curiosity?

Interest?

“Very well,” Kael said finally, his voice low and sharp like a blade sheathed in velvet. “Then let’s talk about you.”

The silence stretched like a blade.

Elian stood there, still catching his breath, his lips tingling from the kiss he probably shouldn't have dared. Kael hadn't pushed him away. But he hadn't kissed him back either. He just stood there, towering in that black uniform, gaze cool and unreadable—like he was weighing Elian against something far more dangerous than family expectations.

Merea finally found her voice. “Elian, what the hell are you doing?”

“I told you I’d fix it,” Elian replied, not turning to her. His eyes stayed locked with Kael’s. “You and Jay deserve to be together. You shouldn’t have to marry someone you don’t love.”

“And you think offering yourself like some sacrificial lamb is fixing it?” she snapped.

“I’m not a lamb,” Elian said quietly. “And I’m not doing it just for you.”

Kael’s brow rose slightly. “Oh?”

Elian hesitated.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud. But now it was there—hovering between them like smoke, too late to pull back in.

Kael stepped forward.

Elian didn’t back away.

“You kissed me,” Kael said flatly.

“I did.”

“You locked the door.”

“That too.”

Kael studied him. Not with anger. Not even disapproval. With something worse.

Interest.

“You planned this?”

“Not the kiss,” Elian admitted, voice softer. “That was impulsive.”

Merea looked like she was about to faint. “This is insane. I’m leaving.”

She moved to the door, but Kael didn’t move. His arm shot out, gloved fingers reaching past Elian to unlock it with a precise twist. He didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on Elian.

“You’re dismissed, Miss Voss,” he said, voice cool but polite.

Merea’s eyes darted between the two of them.

“Elian…”

“I’ve got this,” Elian murmured, without looking at her.

She hesitated for a beat, then slipped out. The door clicked shut behind her.

Now it was just them.

Elian Voss and General Kael Thorne.

Alone.

And Elian was acutely aware of the heat radiating from the man’s body. The way his jaw flexed when he was thinking. The faint scent of something sharp and clean—like leather and steel and danger.

“So,” Elian said, trying to sound casual even though his whole spine was buzzing, “still want to marry into the family?”

Kael’s lips quirked, just barely. The faintest ghost of a smirk.

“You offer yourself like a bargain,” Kael said. “But what’s the value?”

Elian flushed. “I’m not currency.”

“Then what are you?”

Elian lifted his chin. “I’m your only way out of marrying someone who’ll never love you.”

Kael’s gaze sharpened. “And what makes you think I care about being loved?”

Elian faltered.

“…Do you?”

Kael didn’t answer.

He just stepped forward again—closer now. Close enough that Elian could feel the difference in height, in size. The air thickened between them.

“I don’t like being manipulated,” Kael said softly. “Even by someone clever.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you,” Elian replied, voice steady despite the pounding in his chest. “I’m giving you a choice. You don’t want my sister. She doesn’t want you. So take me. I can play the role. I’ll be a perfect little husband, smile at parties, wear whatever uniform you want me to wear—”

Kael’s hand shot out and gripped his chin.

Not hard. But firm.

Elian froze.

Kael leaned in, breath warm against his cheek. “You think this is a game?”

Elian swallowed. “No.”

Kael’s eyes burned. “Then don’t offer yourself like it is.”

The moment crackled.

Then Kael let go.

Stepped back.

Straightened his coat.

And said, “Fine.”

Elian blinked. “Wait… what?”

Kael turned toward the door. “I’ll speak with your parents in the morning. The engagement is changing.”

“You’re serious?”

Kael paused. Glanced over his shoulder. “I’m a general. I don’t bluff.”

---

The next morning, chaos.

His parents screamed. His mother cried. His father shouted words like disgrace and humiliation, but Kael stood silent through it all. Calm. Dominant. The kind of man who’d faced down bullets and didn’t flinch at disapproving in-laws.

When Kael said, “Your son offered himself. I accepted. I’ll marry Elian by week’s end or not at all,” they had no choice but to relent. Pride overruled logic. They didn’t want to lose face—especially not in front of a powerful military man.

So the deal was struck.

Merea and Jay fled to another city the same night. Elian kept their secret like a vault.

And Kael?

Kael stayed.

---

Three days later, Kael showed up at Elian’s university.

He didn’t call. He didn’t text. Just arrived at the gate in full uniform, parked a matte black military SUV outside, and leaned against it with arms crossed, sunglasses on, like a bodyguard sent to collect what was his.

Students whispered.

Girls (and a few boys) openly stared.

Elian came out of lecture, spotted the man across the quad, and stopped cold.

Kael removed his glasses. Those dark eyes fixed on him like a missile lock.

“You’re early,” Elian said when he reached him.

“You’re mine,” Kael replied simply.

Elian’s breath caught.

Kael opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Elian did.

Because somewhere along the way… this wasn’t just about saving his sister anymore.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t even scared.

He was excited.

The night before the wedding, the house was too quiet.

Everyone had gone to bed early. The guests for the ceremony had begun arriving in town—military brass, family friends, people who never cared about Elian but suddenly wanted to smile and take pictures. The pressure of tradition weighed like lead over the whole house.

But Elian wasn’t thinking about that.

He was thinking about him.

Kael Thorne, who hadn’t touched him since the kiss. Hadn’t spoken much either. Just watched him. Guarded him. Drove him to school, picked him up, stood silently like a sentinel at every family dinner, looming and unreadable in his tailored black coats.

Elian couldn’t figure him out.

Not that it stopped his body from reacting every time Kael looked at him too long. Or said his name too low. Or brushed past him with the faintest touch that felt like a lightning strike under his skin.

Now, with the ceremony hours away, Elian stood in the guest room Kael had been staying in for the week.

Staring at the door.

Debating.

It was late. He should be asleep.

But something was pulling at him.

He knocked.

The door opened almost instantly, like Kael had been standing just behind it.

The man wore black again—loose cotton pants, a dark shirt that clung to his chest. No uniform tonight. No gloves. Just the raw, unarmored version of the man Elian couldn’t stop thinking about.

Kael didn’t say anything.

Elian looked up at him, throat dry. “Can I come in?”

Kael stepped aside wordlessly.

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

The room smelled faintly of Kael’s cologne. Dark, spiced, expensive. The kind of scent that lingered like a presence.

Elian turned, folding his arms over his chest.

“So…” he started. “Tomorrow.”

Kael gave a single nod.

Elian bit his lip. “You still sure?”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of,” Kael replied.

That low, even voice sent a shiver down Elian’s spine.

He hated how much he liked it.

“You haven’t really asked why I did this.”

“I assumed it was for your sister.”

Elian laughed—bitter and soft. “That’s part of it. But not all.”

Kael crossed the room, slow and deliberate, and stopped in front of him. “Then tell me.”

Elian looked up into those intense eyes and felt himself unraveling just a little.

“You walked in that day,” he whispered, “and I couldn’t breathe.”

Kael said nothing. He didn’t smile. Didn’t react.

Elian pressed on. “I kissed you because… I wanted to know what it would feel like to choose something reckless. Someone impossible. And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A long pause.

Then Kael’s hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly under Elian’s jaw.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” Kael said, voice almost tender—but heavy with warning.

“Then teach me.”

The air snapped.

Kael moved so suddenly Elian didn’t even have time to gasp. One second they were inches apart, and the next Kael had him backed against the wall, one strong hand beside his head, the other gripping Elian’s waist firmly.

“Say that again,” Kael murmured against his ear.

Elian’s breath hitched. “Teach me.”

Kael’s hand slid up his side. “You understand what that means, Elian?”

Elian nodded.

Kael’s lips ghosted the corner of his mouth. “No games. No backing out.”

“I don’t want to.”

Kael kissed him.

Properly this time.

No hesitation. No confusion.

Just heat.

Dominance.

Claiming.

Elian melted under it, arms wrapping around Kael’s shoulders as the man’s mouth moved with ruthless precision. Kael tasted like dark chocolate and fire. He kissed like a man who didn’t ask for permission—he took.

When Kael finally pulled back, Elian’s lips were swollen, his chest heaving.

“You’re mine tomorrow,” Kael said darkly. “But tonight…”

Elian stared at him, breathless. “Tonight?”

Kael leaned closer, nose brushing his cheek, lips at his ear.

“Tonight, I show you what belonging to me means.”

Kael stood in front of Elian, gaze dark, steady.

He reached out—fingers brushing the edge of Elian’s shirt, just above the waistband of his pants. He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. His eyes did the asking.

Elian nodded once.

Kael’s hand slipped under the hem, slow and deliberate, fingertips skimming across warm skin. He pushed the fabric up inch by inch, dragging it over Elian’s trembling stomach, ribs, chest—until Elian raised his arms without a word, letting Kael peel the shirt away completely.

The cold air kissed his skin.

But Kael’s gaze burned hotter.

“Hold still,” Kael murmured.

Elian’s breath caught.

Kael stepped closer, hands at his sides now, moving slowly—one gliding over Elian’s collarbone, the other tracing the faint curve of his waist. He wasn’t rushing. He was memorizing.

“This body…” Kael whispered, voice like velvet scraped over stone. “It belongs to me now.”

Elian let out a shaky exhale. “Then claim it.”

Kael’s hands moved lower—fingers undoing the button of Elian’s jeans with a smooth flick, then slowly drawing the zipper down. The metal hissed, loud in the quiet room.

Every sound felt magnified.

Kael curled his fingers into the waistband and tugged—slowly easing the fabric down Elian’s hips. Elian gasped as his underwear followed, the slide of cotton dragging along his thighs, his knees, pooling finally at his ankles.

Kael didn’t move.

He just looked.

Elian was bare, stripped under that sharp, military gaze. He felt exposed, vulnerable—yet not humiliated. Kael wasn’t mocking him. He was consuming him with his eyes.

“You don’t look away,” Kael said softly. “You take it. You stand there and let me see everything. Because you’re proud to be mine.”

Elian’s heart pounded in his chest. “I am.”

Kael stepped forward again, his knuckles grazing the inside of Elian’s thigh, his touch maddeningly light. Elian shivered.

“Good boy.”

Kael leaned in, brushing his lips along Elian’s jaw, down to his throat, kissing softly—almost reverently.

Then he whispered:

“Lie down on the bed.”

Elian obeyed.

His skin buzzed with every breath as he lay there—naked, waiting, wanted.

Kael didn’t climb on top immediately. No—he stood beside the bed, eyes tracing every inch like he was studying his soon-to-be husband. A soldier committing to memory the map of his most sacred battlefield.

“Perfect,” Kael said under his breath.

Elian flushed.

Then Kael moved, slow and purposeful—crawling onto the bed like a panther closing in on prey, every muscle fluid, gaze locked with Elian’s as he hovered above him.

And when Kael kissed him again, it wasn’t rushed.

It was a promise.

One Elian would feel for the rest of his life.