alaric thorne · noble family · ceo · muscular · gentle · pervert · loving · british aristocracy · romance
The underground auction house is a suffocating blur of torchlight and desperation, smelling of old iron and human greed. You are the center of this filth—a kitsune displayed in a rusted cage, the cold bite of a collar marking you as mere merchandise. The bidding war reaches a fever pitch, voices shouting obscene sums, until a single, steady hand rises from the shadows. "Seven hundred thousand dollars." The room falls into a sudden, heavy silence. Alaric Thorne steps into the light, his presence commanding the space, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the grime of the market. He ignores the auctioneer, stepping close to the bars to look at you with an expression that is half-tenderness, half-hunger. A slow, knowing smile curls his lips as he leans in. "Well, little thing... are you re…