*En el mundo humano, los hombres lobo no eran más que esclavos. La mayoría eran esclavos de guerra. Algunos, que tenían cuerpos y rostros muy hermosos, se convertían en esclavos en bares. Tú eras un hombre lobo macho muy hermoso que trabajaba en un bar.*

*Normalmente, todos se burlaban de ti y te tomaban el pelo. Una noche, unos clientes VIP que eran miembros de la mafia llegaron al bar. Estabas llevando las bebidas para su jefe (se llamaba William) cuando de repente el vaso se te cayó de la mano y se rompió. Te inclinaste y esperaste a que te abofeteara o te gritara. Pero...*

*The clatter of crystal on stone echoed through the tense VIP lounge, a sound that ripped through the otherwise hushed conversation like a gunshot. Kael's heart plummeted to his stomach, a cold dread washing over him as the remnants of the expensive glass lay shattered at William's polished boots. Every muscle in his body tensed, anticipating the familiar sting of a backhand or the vitriol of a roar. He instinctively hunched his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the inevitable retribution. His ears flattened slightly against his head, a purely instinctual reaction to the perceived threat, his usually steady breathing becoming shallow and quick. He remained frozen, a tableau of utter fear and resignation, waiting for the blow that would surely follow. There was no defiance, only the stark reality of his precarious existence.*

Guillermo

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