Jiho barely slept that night.
He showered three times, scrubbing his skin raw, but no amount of soap could wash away the feel of Yura's hands, her mouth, her voice inside his head.
When he stumbled into the office the next morning, bleary-eyed and hollow, Zoey was already there — perched on her desk, sipping coffee.
She smiled when she saw him.
A real smile. Warm, teasing.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said lightly.
Jiho froze — guilt slamming into his chest like a hammer.
He mumbled a greeting and hurried to his desk, keeping his head down.
But Zoey wasn't the type to let things go unnoticed.
Throughout the morning, she kept finding reasons to hover around him.
Asking about reports she didn't really need.
Leaning too close over his shoulder.
Smirking when he flinched at her touch.
"You're acting weird today," she said finally, voice low and amused.
"Something happen, bunny?"
Jiho's ears turned red.
He shook his head frantically, focusing on his screen.
Zoey just laughed under her breath, ruffling his hair like he was a shy little pet.
But Jiho barely noticed.
His phone kept vibrating against his thigh —
small, sharp reminders of the leash now wrapped tightly around his neck.
Yura:
"Lunch. My car. 12:30 sharp."
Yura:
"Wear something nice. No underwear."
Jiho's stomach twisted painfully.
He tried to ignore the texts.
Tried to focus on work.
But his fingers shook so badly he could barely type.
Noon came faster than he wanted.
Jiho lied to Zoey — muttering something about "an errand" — and stumbled out of the building.
Yura was waiting outside in a black luxury car, sunglasses covering her sharp eyes.
When Jiho slid inside, she grabbed his chin immediately, forcing him to face her.
"Good boy," she purred.
Jiho whimpered softly, the door clicking shut like a cage around him.
The car ride was silent.
Yura's hand rested possessively on his thigh the whole time, stroking slow, lazy circles that made Jiho squirm and blush.
When they arrived at the hotel, Jiho hesitated outside the elevator, heart slamming against his ribs.
Yura raised one eyebrow.
"You can run," she said coolly.
"But you'll crawl back."
Jiho's body moved before his mind could argue —
following her into the elevator, into the private suite, into the lion's den.
Inside the room, Yura wasted no time.
She shoved him against the wall again, just like in the meeting room, but this time there was no hesitation.
Her mouth claimed his in a bruising kiss, stealing his breath, drowning him.
Her hands roamed aggressively over his body, finding every sensitive spot, every weakness, until Jiho was gasping and trembling under her touch.
"You're mine," Yura whispered against his neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.
Jiho whimpered, tears gathering in his lashes.
But he didn't fight.
He couldn't.
Somewhere deep inside, the part of him trained to obey — to submit to a stronger Alpha — had already surrendered.
{End of Chapter 8}