My Obsession

Manhattan pulsed with life.

Neon lights shimmered on rain-slick streets, and the hum of the city thrummed through the glass walls of The Velvet Fang, one of those rooftop clubs where money and mystery mingled under the scent of whiskey and perfume.

Lauretta Owens sat at the bar like she owned it - calm, commanding, wrapped in a red silk dress that moved like liquid fire. Every detail about her was intentional - the smoky eyes, the gold cuff that glinted when she lifted her glass, the quiet confidence that made people look twice.

She wasn't here for a drink.

She was here with purpose.

She wanted a child.

Not love. Not commitment.

Just a child that would be hers - strong, beautiful, born of power.

And if she was going to do this, she would choose carefully.

The man needed to be more than handsome. He needed to have strength in his blood, the kind that made her wolf stir.

Tonight, her instincts would decide.

She glanced around. Manhattan's elite wolves mingled with unsuspecting humans, laughter spilling over the music. None of them caught her attention - not until the air shifted.

Something alpha stepped into the room.

The sound faded, the crowd parted almost unconsciously, and Lauretta's gaze locked on him.

Tall. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark hair slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. And those eyes - storm-gray, sharp, scanning the crowd until they landed on her.

Their gazes collided.

He didn't look away. Neither did she.

The corner of his mouth curved, dangerous and slow, as he walked toward her - every movement precise, predatory, deliberate.

When he stopped beside her, she could feel the hum of his energy before he even spoke.

"Interesting choice of drink," he said, nodding toward her glass.

Lauretta smirked, swirling the liquid. "It's bourbon. Smooth, strong, a little dangerous. I like it that way."

"I can tell." His voice was low, textured like velvet and smoke. "You look like trouble."

"Only if you ask for it," she replied, meeting his gaze over the rim of her glass.

He chuckled softly. "Then I might be asking for it."

Her lips curved, slow and confident. "Careful what you wish for, stranger."

He leaned an elbow on the bar, turning slightly toward her. "Savior Hunt."

"Is that a warning or an introduction?"

"Both."

She smiled - genuinely this time. "Lauretta Owens."

For a fleeting second, something flickered in his expression - a faint recognition, maybe instinct. But then it was gone.

"Well, Lauretta Owens," he said smoothly, "what brings a woman like you to a place like this?"

She tilted her head, her gaze steady. "You really want to know?"

"Desperately."

She let the silence hang for a beat too long, watching him squirm just slightly under her calm scrutiny. "I'm hunting."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hunting?"

"Something rare." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Something worth keeping."

He smiled, but there was curiosity behind it. "And how will you know when you've found it?"

"I'll feel it."

Their eyes locked again - predator recognizing predator.

The bartender slid fresh drinks their way. Savior lifted his glass. "To feeling it, then."

"To finding it," she corrected, clinking her glass softly against his.

The bass shifted, the music deepened. A slow, haunting rhythm pulsed through the club, wrapping around them like a spell.

Savior extended a hand. "Dance with me."

Lauretta arched a brow. "You assume I dance."

"I assume you lead."

That earned him a quiet laugh. "Smart man."

She took his hand, the contact electric - warmth spreading up her arm, her heartbeat quickening despite herself. He pulled her gently onto the dance floor, and for the first time that night, Lauretta let herself feel.

The crowd faded away. The world narrowed to heat, breath, rhythm.

He moved like he'd been born for it - confident, grounded, every touch deliberate but restrained, testing her reactions.

Lauretta matched him move for move, a silent challenge passing between them with every shift of her hips, every brush of her fingertips across his chest.

"You're dangerous," he murmured against her ear.

"You keep saying that," she replied, her voice a quiet tease. "But you're still here."

"I'm starting to think I like danger."

"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't do safe."

When the song ended, they didn't step apart immediately. His breath was warm against her temple. Her hand lingered on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Savior finally spoke, voice husky. "You're not like anyone I've met before."

"Get used to disappointment," she said, though her tone softened.

He smiled faintly. "Something tells me I'll see you again."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Let me show you something, you will like it "

Lauretta squints her eyes, "I wonder what it is "

Savior holds her hand and leads her to a terrace and shows her a the little shiny stars in the sky.

The shiny night sky reflects on Lauretta's grey eyes.

Savior stares. Intrigued.

"Stared enough?" Lauretta returns her gaze to Savior.

"I might need to do more than staring" he smirks.

"Oh really?"

Savior puts his arm around her waist and draws her closer, their chest hitting each other. Gazes hot.

The silence is loud enough for their hearts to twirl in excitement.

Savior puts his face closer and kisses her.

Soft, gentle at first and later, fast , hungry with a strong desire.

"Mmm" she moans.

"We should take this somewhere nice and quiet right?" Savior said.

"Sure" desire written all over her eyes.

They went back to Savior's hotel room and in no time starts kissing each other hungrily.

Savior stops.

"Don't stop Tiger, show me you're a man"

Savior smirks devilishly, "Hope you won't regret it later "

Before Lauretta could reply, Savior snaps out her dress and starts kissing her neck hungrily like his life is dependent on it.

"Mmmm" she moans.

He stops and moves down to her breast and leaves hot kisses on it.

Lauretta's closes her eyes in pleasure.

Savior stops and removes his shirt, while Lauretta snaps out his trousers.

And the night went on with her loud moans and grunts of Savior's climax.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds like a thief, laying gold stripes across the sleek sheets of the penthouse bed. Lauretta Owens stirred, a soft groan leaving her lips as she blinked awake.

For one suspended heartbeat, she didn't know where she was.

Then it came back - the velvet lights, the bourbon burn, the way his eyes had pinned her like she was something rare. Savior Hunt.

She turned, half expecting to find him still there. But the other side of the bed was empty, cool.

No note. No goodbye. Not even the faint sound of running water.

Lauretta smiled to herself, a small, ironic curve of her lips.

Of course. That was how men like him operated - sweep in, scorch the earth, and vanish before sunrise.

Fine by her.

She slipped from the bed, her robe clinging to her shoulders as she crossed to the window. The Manhattan skyline glittered below, morning light turning glass towers into blades of fire.

Her reflection stared back at her - sharp, composed, dangerous.

"You did what you came for," she whispered. "No regrets."

The words were steady, but her heartbeat wasn't.

Some part of her - the wild, wolf part - wanted to chase his scent through the city until she found him again. It annoyed her how much she noticed the lingering trace of him on her skin.

She shook her head. "No. You wanted strength, not sentiment."

And yet... sentiment had teeth.

Stupid sentiments.

"Ahh..." Lauretta touches her waist.

A little sore.

"Oh he went all out..." She smirks and walks out the door.

---

By eight-thirty, Lauretta was in her office - Lune Artistry Inc., a sprawling glass-and-stone building overlooking the river. Her assistant, Jules, greeted her with a nervous smile, clutching a stack of reports.

"Morning, Ms. Owens. You look-uh-rested?"

Lauretta arched a brow. "Rested?"

Jules cleared her throat. "I mean-productive."

"Good save," Lauretta said dryly, taking the papers.

Her office was minimalist but warm - sunlight cutting across modern sculptures and watercolor pieces by up-and-coming artists. Art was her language, her therapy, her empire.

She'd built this company from scratch after returning from studying abroad - and she ruled it like she ruled everything else: precisely.

Except her thoughts weren't focused today.

Every signature, every meeting memo blurred behind flashes of gray eyes and that maddening smile.

At one point, she caught herself doodling the letter S in the margin of a report.

She stared at it, snorted softly, then ripped the page in half.

"Pathetic," she muttered. "You're not that girl."

Can't let a stranger mess with my mind.

---

Her phone buzzed. The screen flashed: Angela.

Lauretta groaned. "Speak of the chaos," she murmured, answering. "Yes, Angie?"

"Don't 'yes, Angie' me," Angela's voice sang through the line, bright and teasing. "You disappeared after work last night. Tell me you didn't go all rogue wolf in the city again."

Lauretta smirked. "Define rogue."

"Oh my God," Angela gasped dramatically. "You did. You totally did. You went out. With that look. Tell me everything."

"There's nothing to tell."

Angela laughed. "Liar. You've got that tone - the 'I did something I'm pretending not to care about but secretly can't stop thinking about' tone."

Lauretta leaned back in her chair, gazing out the window. "You have an overactive imagination."

"Mm-hmm. So, what's his name?"

Lauretta hesitated. "...Savior."

Angela choked. "Savior? Who names their kid that? Is he a preacher or a stripper?"

Lauretta actually laughed, the sound surprising her. "Neither. He's... complicated."

"Complicated as in emotionally unavailable or complicated as in you're already naming your future child?"

Lauretta rolled her eyes. "Angela."

"What? I'm just asking! You've been single for, like, forever. The last guy you liked ran off to Europe to 'find himself,' remember?"

"Unfortunately."

"So, this Savior guy - was he at least worth it?"

Lauretta paused, her expression softening. "Yeah," she said quietly. "He was."

There was a beat of silence. Then Angela's tone shifted - softer now. "You sound... different."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're glowing. I can hear it."

Lauretta smirked. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," Angela said. "But I know you. Be careful, Lau. You have a habit of chasing things that burn."

Lauretta looked down at her hands - steady, elegant, but faintly trembling. "Maybe I like the fire."

Angela sighed. "Just promise me you won't let this guy mess with your head."

"I won't," Lauretta said. "It was one night. He's probably already forgotten me."

"Or he is masturbating and thinking about you right now?"

Lauretta squeezes her face in disgust, "Eww Angela, you really need a check up, what's wrong with you?"

Laughter could be heard from the phone.

"Anyways, eat well, sleep well and I will call you back later to disturb you as usual" Angela said.

Lauretta sighs, "Please don't call me again "

"In your dreams baby"

---

But miles away, Savior Hunt sat in his hotel suite, the morning light cutting through the curtains. His phone buzzed with messages from his father's assistant, from Dew, from the company board.

He ignored them all.

On the table sat his untouched coffee.

He'd been staring at the skyline for an hour, trying to shake her from his mind.

It wasn't working.

He could still smell her - faintly, maddeningly - the mix of roses and something wild. Her eyes had haunted him all night, golden and defiant.

He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, "Get it together, Hunt."

But when he closed his eyes, he saw her again - that smirk, that strength. The way she'd said his name like she was testing its worth.

And for the first time in a long time, Savior felt something he didn't like to admit.

He wanted her.

Not as a passing curiosity. Not as a challenge.

He needed to see her again.

"I can't possibly want a stranger" he mutters.

---

Lauretta ended her call with Angela, smiling faintly. "He's probably already forgotten me," she repeated under her breath.

But deep down, she knew the truth - and so did the wolf inside her.

Whatever had happened between her and Savior Hunt wasn't done.

Not even close.

Or maybe it has.

Silvercrest City rose beneath the clouds like a kingdom carved from steel and ambition. Neon reflections glimmered off the river, skyscrapers pierced the sky, and the streets hummed with restless life - human and wolf alike.

Lauretta Owens stepped out of the airport terminal, her red coat flaring behind her like a cape. She inhaled the air of her birth city - crisp, electric, tinged with the faintest scent of pine and moonlight. The scent of a place that remembered her family... and had not forgiven them.

She straightened her shoulders. Let the city remember all it wanted. She was not the same girl who left in shame.

She was a CEO now.

She was powerful.

She was dangerous.

And she had a secret blooming in her belly she wasn't ready to name.

---

LuneArt Studios

The elevator doors opened to the top floor of LuneArt Studios, her artistic empire - modern black marble floors, illuminated moon-themed sculptures, walls showcasing rotating exhibitions. The place felt alive, pulsing with the creativity she commanded.

Her employees immediately straightened. Even the air seemed to tighten under her dominance.

"M-Ms. Owens!" her assistant, Mara, stumbled forward, holding a tablet and a triple-shot latte like they were holy offerings. "Welcome back! We weren't expecting you this early!"

"I don't like being predictable," Lauretta replied, slipping out of her coat.

Mara nodded frantically. "I'll alert the team! And your best friend has called - five times."

Lauretta sighed. "Let me guess - she said it's urgent?"

"She said," Mara cleared her throat and imitated Angela perfectly, "'Tell that woman to call me back before I break into her office with pastries and violence.'"

Lauretta actually laughed. "Sounds like her."

---

Inside her private office - all glass walls, clean lines, city skyline - Lauretta finally allowed herself a moment to breathe.

Except her mind wasn't quiet.

Her fingers drifted subconsciously to her neck, remembering Savior Hunt's breath on her skin. His hands gripping her hips. His voice whispering her name as if he owned it.

She clenched her jaw.

She did NOT have time for this.

She was here to rebuild her family's reputation.

She was here to lead an empire.

She was NOT here thinking about a man she'd known for only a few hours.

...even if those hours still pulsed under her skin.

What have you done Savior?

Her phone buzzed. Angela. Again.

Lauretta groaned and answered. "If this is about brunch-"

"Don't you dare," Angela snapped. "Lauretta Owens, don't play with me. You think you can disappear for a whole weekend and act like you didn't leave a piece of your soul in Manhattan?"

Lauretta rolled her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"Oh, am I?" Angela hissed. "Let me refresh your memory, Miss Selective Amnesia. You called me at two in the morning whispering - WHISPERING - about some man named Savior Hunt!"

Lauretta slapped a hand over her face. "Angela-"

"No, no, shut up. I'm not finished." Angela inhaled deeply like she was preparing for battle. "You described him like he was carved by the moon goddess herself. You said he smelled like firewood, whiskey, and sin-"

"I did not."

"You did! And I quote: 'Angela, his voice alone could get me pregnant.'"

Lauretta sank into her chair, mortified. "Okay, that sounds like me."

Angela cackled. "So who is this man? Where does he live? Do I need to stalk his social media?"

"There is NO social media to stalk," Lauretta snapped. "I checked."

"Oh my god, you checked?!"

Lauretta froze.

Angela screamed, "YOU'RE OBSESSED!"

"I am NOT obsessed."

"You are! You looked for him online! This is phase three obsession!"

Lauretta groaned. "Angela, it was one night. I went to that club with a mission, and he happened to fit the criteria."

"And the criteria was what? Hot, intimidating, and guaranteed to make your knees tremble?"

Lauretta glared at the wall. "I needed a baby, remember? You told me to just... find someone suitable."

"Yes, but I didn't say find a man so fine he'd haunt your dreams AND your hormones."

Lauretta said nothing.

Which only encouraged Angela.

"So?"

"So what?"

Angela grinned through the phone. "So when's the second round?"

"There isn't going to be a second round."

Angela scoffed. "Mhmm. And I'm the queen of France. Girl, your wolf has been pacing since last night."

Lauretta closed her eyes. Because yes - her wolf was pacing.

Restless.

Agitated.

Searching.

But she wasn't about to admit that.

"I have work to do."

"You can ignore it now but not for long" Angela laughed like a villain. "Call me later, Lovergirl."

She hung up before Lauretta could protest.

---

The Pull

The day rolled on - meetings, deadlines, two gallery arguments, and a designer crying because gold paint looked "too gold." Lauretta handled it all with precision and ice.

But every quiet moment felt invaded by memories of Savior.

His heat.

His hands.

His scent.

The way her wolf reacted to him - not just attracted but recognizing.

"You really need to chill out" she mutters to her wolf.

"If I need a man to warm my bed I can always find one "

"Nothing special about him "

By evening, the office was empty except for her.

She exhaled slowly... then suddenly winced.

A wave of nausea.

Followed by heat spiraling through her blood.

Then - a tug.

A warm, magnetic tug deep inside her body.

Lauretta pressed a hand to her abdomen.

"...no."

But another pulse answered under her palm.

Soft.

Alive.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my god..."

She wasn't imagining it.

The connection was real.

She was pregnant.

Already.

Her wolf hummed in satisfaction.

Lauretta stared at the floor, stunned and speechless.

She had wanted this.

She had planned for this.

But the reality - the immediacy - the intensity - shook her.

Savior Hunt's child.

No.

Mine.

Her chest tightened.

Her throat warmed.

And she whispered to the empty office:

"...this is insane."

"Though I wanted it, I wasn't expecting it to be this fast"

She stares at the air.

---

Across the City

At that exact moment, in a high-rise suite on the opposite side of Silvercrest, Savior Hunt jolted awake at his desk.

His heart hammered.

His wolf snarled.

He pressed a hand to his chest, breathing hard.

Something had changed.

Something vital.

"Damn it," he whispered. "What are you doing to me, Lauretta Owens?"

He had no idea where she was now.

No way to reach her.

Not even her last name.

But he could feel her.

In his blood.

In his bones.

In every restless breath.

He leaned back, staring at the moon through the window - silver, sharp, unforgiving.

And he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Their night wasn't over.

Their story hadn't even begun.