Page 2 of Alpha-hole Orc

* * *

Our office bustles with activity as I stride through the doors. My assistant greets me with a smile, handing me a fresh cup of coffee and my schedule for the day.

“Morning meetings went well. The clients loved the new campaign concepts. We have a briefing at 3 to review the proposals in more detail.”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

I settle behind my desk, tackling emails and preparing for the afternoon briefing.

The day flies by and before I know it, I’m hailing a cab home. Despite the long hours, I feel fulfilled. My work is my passion.

As I enter my apartment, kicking off my heels with a satisfied sigh, I feel like something is missing. Someone to share the little moments with, a warm body in my bed each night, loving arms to come home to. I push the thought away. For now, my career is enough. It has to be.

Two

Viktoor

The gleaming steel doors of the elevator slide open, and I stride into my penthouse. This place is a testament to my power and wealth. Priceless art, imported furniture, high-tech gear. Everything’s custom-made and lavish.

Marble floors stretch out before me, plush rugs. Tall columns flank the entryway, and a crystal chandelier dangles above, refracting rainbows of light across the vaulted ceiling.

My gaze sweeps over the leather sofas, mahogany tables, and bookshelves housing rare first editions. Every piece in this room costs more than most people make in a year.

But wealth has never impressed me. Power, on the other hand…

A smirk tugs at my lips.

No one denies Viktor Bluekaan.

I stroll to the floor-to-ceiling windows and look out into the glittering skyline of my city. San Francisco, the bustling metropolis I call home. My domain.

My business partners know not to cross me. No one has dared challenge me in years.

I show no mercy. I get what I want. God help anyone foolish enough to stand in my way.

I answer to no one.

If I want a female, she comes to my bed.

Though most know better than to expect anything more than a tumble between silk sheets. They thrill at my dangerous reputation and rumors of my sexual prowess. Each one hopes to be the one to tame the beast, though none yet have succeeded.

My lovers come in all shapes, sizes, and species. I don’t care about their status or background, only that they sate my appetites. And I take great care of them while we last.

The only females who do not throw themselves at my feet are those too cowed by my power and presence. A snap of my fingers, a curl of my lip, and they scatter like scared animals.

I crave the challenge of the hunt and the victory of the capture. Once I have them writhing and begging, I quickly tire. No one has truly sparked my interest in a long while.

* * *

The intercom buzzes, and I press the button to allow my friends inside. Moments later, familiar voices drift into the foyer.

“You’re late,” I say, not turning from the window.

“Traffic was a bitch,” comes the gruff reply. “You know how it is.”

I know no such thing. I have private transport for a reason.

“Drinks are on the bar,” I say, a clear dismissal. I have no patience for excuses.

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