MATED TO THE ENEMY
But as I pushed open the heavy doors, every single one of those thoughts disintegrated.
He was already inside.
Aklan stood in the centre of the hall, shirtless, wrapping white gauze around his hands, pulling the cloth with that precise, controlled aggression only he seemed capable of.
The overhead lights carved every line of muscle into brutal relief: shoulders broad enough to carry armies, abs cut like they’d been chiselled by a war god, sweat already tracing silver paths down his skin.
He lifted a water bottle to his lips, his head titled back. I watched his throat work as he drank, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck in a way that made my entire body tighten painfully.
Sikat na Kabanata