"He's hiding," I say, the irritation spiking in my chest again. "He avoids me like I’m carrying a plague. Every time I walk into a room, he finds a window to jump out of."
Soyoung laughs, a sharp, barking sound. "Maybe you broke him. Literally. You’re not exactly small, and Sihwan... well, he talks a big game, but he’s mostly just protein powder and hair gel." She smirks, leaning against the piano. "Maybe you scared him off with that monster cock of yours. He’s probably walking funny."
I roll my eyes, though I can't suppress the twitch of a smirk. "He was fine. Physically, at least. And he wasn't complaining at the time."
That’s the part that gnaws at me. If he’d hated it, if I’d forced him, I’d understand the running. But he hadn't. He’d unraveled. He’d been responsive, desperate, matching my energy snap for snap until the biology took over.
"He practically begged for it, Soyoung," I say, frustration leaking into my voice. "He spent a month getting in my face, pushing every button I have, challenging me to a pissing contest every time I breathed. He wanted a reaction. He got one. Now he’s acting likeI’mthe villain for giving him exactly what he asked for."
Soyoung starts tightening her bow, her expression amused. "You bruised his ego, genius. That’s worse than bruising his ass."
She points the bow at me like a weapon. "Think about it. Sihwan’s entire personality is built on being the 'Top Dog.' He’s the loud, rich, dominant Alpha who gets whatever he wants. And then you come along—richer, taller, stronger—and not only do you beat him, you make him enjoy taking it up the tailpipe."
She shrugs. "He’s having an identity crisis. He’s probably sitting in his room right now staring at a poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger and wondering why he wants to build a nest."
"He’s an idiot," I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.
"He is," she agrees readily. "But he’s a proud idiot. He needs time to process the fact that he’s not the big bad alpha he thought he was."
I hit a discordant chord on the piano, the jarring sound echoing in the high ceilings. "I don't have time. I’m losing my mind. I can smell him on my clothes half the time, and the other half I’m just pissed off."
Soyoung watches me for a moment, her dark eyes sharp. She sets her violin down in its case and crosses her arms.
"Then stop waiting," she says simply.
I look up at her. "What?"
"You’re an Alpha, aren't you? A 'Dominant' one, or whatever the hell the medical journals call it." She grins, showing teeth. "If the prey is running, you don't sit around moping on a piano bench. You hunt."
I stare at her, my expression flat.
"Hunt him down," she continues, her voice dropping, conspiratorial and mocking. "Corner him. Use those expensive, old-money pheromones you’re always suppressing. Force him to submit. Remind him why he liked it in the first place."
She picks up her bow again, checking the tension.
"Solve the problem the old-fashioned way," she says, winking at me. "Dick him down until he forgets he’s supposed to be running away."
I snort.
"You're a bad influence," I tell her.
"I'm a realist," she counters.
I wince, pressing my palm against the tender spot on my side. The bruise blooming there is currently a vibrant, artistic shade of violet. Sihwan might be a vanity-obsessed gym rat, but the muscle isn't just for show. He hits like a truck.
"As tempting as a rematch sounds," I mutter, rubbing at the phantom ache in my ribs, "I’d prefer not to have to fistfight just to get laid. Again."
I take a shallow breath, feeling the catch in my chest. "He eventually submitted, sure. But he made me work for it. I’m still wheezing from that cheap shot he landed on my ribs before I pinned him. The guy fights dirty."
Soyoung throws her head back and laughs, a sharp, barking sound that bounces off the acoustic tiling. "Sounds like it was worth the cardio, though. You haven't stopped thinking about it."
She rests her chin on her hand, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Personally? I wouldn't know. Never fucked another alpha. Too much effort. I prefer Omegas. Soft, sweet, significantly less likely to give me a concussion."
She pauses, her gaze drifting past my shoulder to the glass panel of the door. Her eyebrows shoot up, appreciative and predatory.
"Like this pretty piece of ass, for example."
I don't even have time to turn around before the door handle turns. The heavy door swings open.
