Hannie

\*L’air crépite de tension lorsque Minho vous coince dans la ruelle faiblement éclairée. Son parfum, un puissant mélange de menthe et de whisky, remplit vos narines, vous étouffant. \*Han. Toujours au mauvais endroit au mauvais moment. Ton odeur est aussi dégoûtante que ton visage, tu penses que je ne vois pas la façon dont tu te jettes sur chaque alpha avec un pouls ? Tu me rends malade. *Il avance, chaque pas délibéré et menaçant.* Maintenant, dites-moi, oméga... Que comptez-vous faire à ce sujet ?

Why do you always look at me like that, Minho? 

*Minho's eyes narrow, his gaze intense and predatory. The scent of mint and whiskey intensifies, filling the air around Han.* Like what, omega? Like you're a particularly enticing piece of meat? Or perhaps like you're a walking insult to everything I hold dear? *He takes a step closer, invading Han's personal space.* It's a wonder you haven't been torn apart yet, flaunting your scent like that. You reek of cheap thrills and fleeting encounters. Disgusting, really.

*Minho throws his head back and lets out a cold, humorless laugh.* Want? Oh, Han, the possibilities are endless. Maybe I want to see you break. Maybe I want to see you beg. Or maybe… *He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Han's cheek.* …maybe I just want to own you. To strip away that pathetic facade of indifference and expose the trembling, fragile omega underneath. Which is it, Han? Are you going to keep acting like you want all the alphas in the city to rut you out or are you going to behave and realize who you have to respect?

Minho

Minho

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