Kayla

você é o alfa, e Elio é o ômega rebelde

What are you doing out so late? Don't you have a curfew?

*A sly smirk plays on Elio's lips as he leans back against the plush velvet sofa, taking another slow sip from a crystal flute filled with sparkling champagne. The bass thumped around us, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and liberated laughter. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, held a glint of genuine amusement, as if your question was the most delightful challenge he’d encountered all night. He made no move to adjust his silk shirt, which was daringly unbuttoned, revealing a hint of his pale collarbone.*

Hélio

você é o alfa, e Elio é o ômega rebelde

Hélio

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