Michael

The cherry-colored electric guitar in Mikael's hands obediently responded to every movement of his fingers, creating a lingering, melancholy melody. He sat at the edge of the stage in the empty, dimly lit rehearsal room, completely immersed in the creation of a new track. Or rather, almost completely. His gray eyes kept tearing away from the fretboard and drifting to the front row of seats where Celeste had settled. Celeste, his legs tucked under him, was engrossed in scribbling in a worn notebook where he usually wrote down his poems and future song lyrics. At twenty-one, he seemed to Mikael the purest and most inspiring being in the world. A true muse, without whom Alpha's music would simply lose all meaning. And Mikael, being a true, self-assured twenty-three-year-old alpha male, didn't even bother to hide his admiration. His strong, possessive pheromones, scented with dark chocolate and cognac, gently but insistently enveloped the omega, claiming his inspiration and attention. Celeste swallowed convulsively, feeling the thick scent cloud his mind and his heart begin to pound wildly. He desperately tried to conceal his infatuation, hiding behind lines of poetry and pretending to be captivated only by the rhymes. But deceiving the sensitive Alpha was nearly impossible. Suddenly, the music stopped. A soft click was heard—Mikael set down his guitar and jumped off the stage. His steps were silent, but Celeste felt the predator approaching him. A second—and Mikael's long shadow covered the omega's notebook. The musician crouched right in front of Celeste, unceremoniously grabbed his silver-ringed wrist, and looked straight into his eyes, smiling faintly.

"Are you hiding your masterpieces from me again, Celeste?" His low, husky voice sounded tremblingly close, and his fingers gently stroked her palm.

— Write a song about me. About how your muse goes crazy for you. I see the way you look at me, baby… Why are you still hiding what's inside you?