The blood and the bone

The kitchen was too quiet, and the quiet was starting to feel like a goddamn fucking threat.

Hua Yong shoved a bowl of lukewarm soup in front of Wenlang, the ceramic clattering against the marble counter with a sound like a gunshot. "Eat. I'm not fucking telling you again."

Wenlang stared at the bowl. He looked like shit. His eyes were rimmed with red, his hair was a fucking matted disaster, and that charcoal suit—the one Hua Yong had been so smug about—was a wrinkled, blood-stained rag. He looked at the spoon like it was a foreign object he couldn't figure the fuck out how to use.

"I'm not fucking hungry," Wenlang rasped, his voice sounding like he'd been swallowing ground glass.

"I don't give a flying fuck if you're hungry," Hua Yong snarled, leaning over the counter until he was inches from Wenlang's pale, exhausted face. "Your glucose is bottoming out, your S-Tier heart is fluttering like a trapped moth, and if you pass out again, I'm going to lose my fucking mind. Eat the goddamn soup before I shove the bowl down your fucking throat."

Wenlang's hand trembled as he reached for the spoon. "You're a real fucking charmer, you know that?"

"And you're a stubborn, suicidal prick," Hua Yong shot back, though he didn't pull away. He stayed close, his Enigma scent acting like a heavy, protective shroud. "Last night... that stunt you pulled... don't ever fucking do that again. You hear me? You don't get to check out. You don't get to go quiet. I'd rather you try to kill me than have to sit through another hour of that hollow bullshit."

Wenlang finally managed a mouthful of the broth. It tasted like fucking nothing. His senses were so overloaded by the bond and the Withdrawal that everything else was secondary. "You were scared."

Hua Yong stiffened. "I don't get scared."

"Bullshit," Wenlang laughed, a dry, hacking sound. He looked up, a spark of that old, arrogant Alpha gold returning to his eyes. "You were shaking, Hua Yong. You were begging me to say something. The great, sovereign Enigma was fucking rattling like a leaf because his pet stopped responding. You're just as addicted to this bond as I am. Maybe more."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Hua Yong hissed, his fingers digging into the edge of the counter.

"Why? Does it hurt to hear the truth?" Wenlang pushed the bowl away, his appetite gone, replaced by a sudden, jagged surge of adrenaline. "You talk about me being your 'asset' and your 'property,' but look at you. You can't even stand to be in a different room. You're fucking obsessed with me."

Hua Yong reached across the counter and grabbed Wenlang by the front of his shirt, hauling him forward until their chests slammed together. "I'm obsessed with keeping my investment alive, you arrogant piece of shit. If you die, I lose. It's that fucking simple."

"Is it?" Wenlang challenged, his breath hot against Hua Yong's lips. "Then why is your heart racing? Why does your scent smell like you're about to lose your goddamn mind? You don't want an asset. You want me to fucking break for you. You want me to fucking crawl."

"I want you to behave," Hua Yong growled, but the word was thin, a lie they both could see through.

"I want you to behave," Hua Yong growled, but the word was thin, a lie they both could see through.

The tension in the kitchen was becoming physical—a thick, electric pressure that made the air feel like it was about to catch fire. The "Withdrawal" had left them both raw, their barriers stripped away. They weren't businessmen or rivals anymore; they were just two powerful animals trapped in a cage made of their own DNA.

"Then make me," Wenlang dared him. "You've got the collar. You've got the bond. Stop fucking talking about it and actually fucking do something, you coward."

Hua Yong didn't hesitate. He vaulted over the kitchen island, his boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud as he tackled Wenlang. They went down in a heap of limbs and curses, slamming into the hardwood floor.

"You want me to make you?" Hua Yong roared, pinning Wenlang's wrists above his head with one hand. He was vibrating with a terrifying, primal energy. "You want to see what happens when I stop being 'civil'?"

"I want you to stop fucking lying to yourself!" Wenlang screamed back, his legs thrashing as he tried to buck the Enigma off. "You love this! You love how much I hate you! You love that I'm the only one who can make you feel like you're not a goddamn ghost!"

Hua Yong's grip tightened until Wenlang's bones creaked. He looked down at the Alpha—this beautiful, broken, swearing disaster of a man—and for the first time, he didn't see an asset. He saw a mirror.

"Fuck you," Hua Yong whispered, and then he slammed his mouth against Wenlang's in a kiss that tasted like copper, rain, and absolute, ruinous desire.

It wasn't a "soft" moment. It was a war. Wenlang bit his lip, Drawing blood, and Hua Yong only groaned into the contact, his hands moving from Wenlang's wrists to his throat, his thumbs brushing against the leather of the collar.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you," Hua Yong rasped against his skin, his voice a jagged promise. "I'm going to tear everything else out of your fucking head until there's nothing left but me."

"Try it," Wenlang choked out, his hands clawing at Hua Yong's back, ripping the black shirt at the seams. "Fucking try it, you Enigma bastard."

The floor was cold, the kitchen was a mess, and they were both bleeding—but for the first time since the "Touch" on the street, the bond felt full. It was feeding on the violence, the rage, and the terrifying, unwanted heat between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Get... off... me!" Wenlang gasped, even as his hands clamped onto Hua Yong's shoulders to pull him closer. The contradiction was making his fucking head spin. He was an S-Tier Alpha—he was supposed to be the one on top, the one doing the pinning, the one dictating the pace. Being underneath this man felt like a fucking violation of his very soul, and yet, his blood was singing.

"Make me, you loud-mouthed prick," Hua Yong growled. He shifted his weight, driving a knee between Wenlang's thighs to pin him down more effectively. He reached up, his fingers hooking into the collar of Wenlang's ruined shirt and ripping it open. Buttons skittered across the floor like tiny, plastic bullets. "You want to talk big about me being addicted? Look at you. You're practically fucking vibrating."

"I'm vibrating because I want to wrap my hands around your fucking windpipe!" Wenlang snarled. He managed to get one hand free and swung, a closed-fist blow that caught Hua Yong across the cheekbone.

The Enigma's head snapped to the side. For a second, everything went dead silent.

Hua Yong slowly turned his head back, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes weren't just violet anymore—they were a deep, glowing abyss that looked like they belonged to a fucking demon. He didn't look angry; he looked satisfied.

"That's it," Hua Yong whispered, his voice a low, terrifying vibration. "There's that Alpha fire. I was starting to think you'd turned into a goddamn Beta."

Before Wenlang could swing again, Hua Yong slammed him back down, his hand wrapping around Wenlang's throat with a grip like a fucking steel vice. He didn't squeeze hard enough to stop the air, but he squeezed hard enough to remind Wenlang exactly who was holding the leash.

"You think you're so fucking tough," Hua Yong hissed, leaning down so their foreheads were pressed together. "You think because you run a company and bark orders at people that you're in control. But right now? In this kitchen? You're just a body. And that body belongs to me."

"Go... to... hell," Wenlang wheezed, his eyes watering from the pressure and the sheer, overwhelming scent of the Enigma. It was too much. The cedar and the ozone were being drowned in a tidal wave of damp earth and ancient forest. It felt like he was being buried alive in the best way possible.

"I'm already there, sweetheart," Hua Yong mocked, his other hand sliding down to grip Wenlang's hip, bruising the skin through the expensive fabric of the suit trousers. "And I'm fucking taking you down with me."

Hua Yong leaned in, burying his face in the crook of Wenlang's neck, right where the leather collar met the skin. He took a deep, shuddering draw of air, smelling the sweat, the blood, and the frantic, sweet scent of an Alpha in total distress.

"You smell like fucking victory," Hua Yong muttered against his skin.

Wenlang let out a sound that was half-sob, half-snarl. He was losing. He could feel it. The S-Tier pride that had sustained him for twenty-seven years was crumbling under the weight of the Enigma's presence. He wanted to fight, but his body was fucking turning traitor. His hips arched involuntarily, seeking more contact, seeking the heat that only Hua Yong could provide.

"Fuck you," Wenlang whispered, his fingers tangling in Hua Yong's hair, pulling him closer even as he tried to push him away. "I fucking hate you so much."

"I know," Hua Yong replied, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Wenlang's scent gland. "Tell me again. Tell me how much you hate me while I mark every goddamn inch of you."

The struggle on the floor turned from a fight into something much more desperate and primal. Clothes were being tugged at, skin was being scraped against wood, and the air was filled with the sounds of ragged breathing and muffled curses. Every touch was an insult; every kiss was a theft.

"You're... you're a goddamn monster," Wenlang gasped, his head thumping against the floor as Hua Yong moved over him.

"And you're my favorite fucking toy," Hua Yong shot back, his eyes locked onto Wenlang's. "Don't forget it."

The bond, which had been starving and cold just an hour ago, was now a roaring furnace. It was feeding on the friction, the violence, and the raw, unadulterated hatred that was finally, finally turning into something that looked a lot like lust.

~~~~~~~~~~

"No!" Wenlang's voice cracked, a jagged, desperate sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. "Don't you fucking dare—"

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want," Hua Yong interrupted, his voice a low, vibrating growl that felt like a physical weight on Wenlang's chest.

He didn't go for the belt. He didn't go for the zipper. This wasn't about sex—this was about branding. Hua Yong shifted his weight, pinning Wenlang's throat with his forearm just enough to make the Alpha's eyes bulge, and with his other hand, he reached for the buckle of that leather collar.

He didn't take it off. He tightened it. One notch. Two.

"AGH! FUCK!" Wenlang thrashed, his heels drumming a frantic, useless rhythm against the floor. The concentrated scent from the diffuser hit his glands like a shot of pure adrenaline mixed with liquid fire. "You... you fucking... psychopath... stop it!"

"Look at me, Wenlang," Hua Yong commanded, his violet eyes burning with a terrifying, cold light. "Look at me while I take every last bit of your pride and grind it into the goddamn dirt."

Hua Yong leaned down, his nose dragging across Wenlang's jawline, inhaling the scent of terrified, furious S-Tier Alpha. It was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever smelled. He opened his mouth, his teeth grazing the skin right above the collar, right where the pulse was thundering like a fucking trapped drum.

"Don't," Wenlang whispered, his body finally going still as the 'Command' pheromones locked his muscles in place. "Hua Yong... don't you fucking do this. I'll never forgive you. I'll spend every waking second of my life figuring out how to make you suffer."

"Good," Hua Yong rasped against his skin. "I want you to think about me every second of the day. I want my name to be the only thing your shitty, arrogant brain can process."

And then, he bit.

It wasn't a lover's nip. It was a deep, primal claim. Hua Yong's teeth sank into the heavy muscle of Wenlang's neck, piercing the skin.

Wenlang's scream was muffled against the floorboards, a raw, agonizing sound of a king being dethroned. The Enigma's venom—the biological marker that signaled a permanent, sovereign bond—flooded into Wenlang's bloodstream. It felt like molten lead being poured into his veins.

"FUCK! SHIT! STOP!" Wenlang's fingers clawed at Hua Yong's back, drawing blood through the ruins of his shirt, but it was over. The mark was set.

The feedback loop hit them both like a fucking explosion.

Wenlang's vision went white. His entire body convulsed as the Enigma's power forcefully overrode his Alpha instincts. The ozone and cedar scent of his own pheromones didn't just fade—they were extinguished, replaced by the heavy, sovereign weight of Hua Yong's forest-dark musk.

Hua Yong let go of his neck, pulling back to look at his work. The mark was a deep, bloody violet, glowing with a faint, unnatural light before settling into a permanent, bruised shadow.

"There," Hua Yong panted, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked like he'd just won a war and lost his soul at the same time. "Now even if you run to the other side of the fucking world, every Alpha who smells you will know you're claimed. They'll smell me on your skin, in your hair, in your goddamn blood."

Wenlang lay on the floor, his chest heaving, tears of pure, biological frustration leaking from the corners of his eyes. He felt... different. The 'itch' was gone, replaced by a heavy, terrifying sense of belonging. He hated it. He hated it more than he'd ever hated anything in his life. He felt like he was wearing a leash that went all the way down to his DNA.

"You... you're a dead man," Wenlang whispered, his voice trembling. He tried to pull away, but his body wouldn't obey. It wanted to stay close. It wanted to sink into the heat of the man who had just ruined him. "I'm going to... I'm going to kill you..."

"You can try," Hua Yong said, standing up and looking down at the wreck of the S-Tier Alpha. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression returning to that cold, bored mask. "But for now? You're going to get off my floor, go to the shower, and wash the blood off. And then you're going to sit on the couch and wait for me to tell you what to do next. Do you understand, my Alpha?"

Wenlang didn't answer. He couldn't. The mark on his neck was throbbing in time with his heart, a constant, physical reminder that the "Cold War" was over and he had lost everything.

He stayed on the floor for a long time after Hua Yong walked away, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain, and feeling the slow, heavy weight of the chain around his soul.