Desire Me If You Can-Chapter 2

Grayson ignored the fortune teller’s puzzled expression as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled out his wallet, took out several hundred-dollar bills, and placed them on the table.

Then, for the last time, he asked,

“Nothing else you can tell me?”

The fortune teller gave him a rehearsed smile.

“That’s all for today.”

As expected.

This was useless.

Yet another waste of time.

Without another word, Grayson turned on his heel and walked out of the shop.

The moment the towering figure—well over two meters tall—disappeared, the fortune teller let out a slow breath, now alone in the small space.

Then, with a furrowed brow, she drew another card from the deck.

A bolt of lightning struck.

The card she had pulled depicted The Tower, a crumbling structure beneath a stormy sky.

Seeing it, she exhaled shakily and shook her head.

“Something terrible is coming...”

Muttering to herself, she glanced around nervously.

The air suddenly felt heavy—unnervingly still.

Rubbing her arms against the creeping chill, she abruptly stood up.

Just then, the door swung open, and another customer walked in.

But before they could speak, she waved a hand, cutting them off.

“That’s it for today. We’re closed. Leave.”

“Oh... Uh, then I’ll come back tomorrow—”

The customer stammered, confused.

But the fortune teller immediately shook her head.

“Oh, no. No tomorrow. I won’t be here.”

“What? What do you mean you won’t be—wait, hold on—”

Ignoring the startled questions, she all but shoved them out the door.

Then she began hastily gathering her things.

She had to leave.

Now.

Far away.

Hands trembling, she stuffed her belongings into a bag.

And then—

A single card slipped from the deck, fluttering to the ground.

She bent down to pick it up—

And screamed.

The card that had fallen face-up was The Devil.

Shaking, she stared at the illustration.

Her voice came out in a whisper, trembling over and over.

“Bad omen... a very bad omen...”

As if to affirm the sinister premonition, a streak of lightning cracked through the dry sky, followed by a distant, ominous roll of thunder.

Part One: Here Comes The Dog

As always, when the night deepened, the sound of glasses clinking, the low hum of music, and the rising breath of excitement filled the space. At some point, the people at the party started disappearing one by one, pairing off. This was, of course, a party held for that very purpose. Extreme alphas, like the ones here, needed to regularly release pheromones, or they’d experience brain malfunctions—anything from simple memory loss to severe brain damage or insanity. As a result, they would seek out someone to spend the night with, and it was common for them to hold parties to achieve this shared goal.

In this case, Grayson was sitting at the bar, sipping whiskey. The ice in his glass was melting, leaving droplets around the rim, while his fingers slowly rubbed the glass. On either side of him, two identical-faced omega twins sat, openly showing interest in him.

“Having to work every day is both enjoyable and sad,” Grayson muttered with a sigh.

The man sitting on his right blinked in confusion. The man on the left, with a friendly tone, spoke first.

“What’s this, Grayson? You’re telling me you actually want to work now?”

Emphasizing the word “work” with a wiggle of his fingers, the man glanced at the others cautiously, and another man chimed in.

“You’re not saying you’re tired of lounging around and eating all day, are you?”

“Grayson Miller? The one who never does anything?”

The two men continued speaking, exchanging glances as they tried to gauge Grayson’s mood. He let out a brief chuckle and exaggerated his response.

“It’s not like I only lounge around. I do work sometimes.”

In a way, that was true. There was probably no extreme alpha who had as many jobs as Grayson did. Whenever he became infatuated with someone, he would often imitate whatever work they did. Sometimes, he even discovered surprising talents and abilities of his own, but it was never anything serious—it was all just copying others. So, strictly speaking, Grayson had never had a proper career.

The real issue was that his ‘dedication’ vanished as soon as his feelings for the person faded. Grayson, with no consideration for anyone else, would simply disappear, leaving his former lovers to bear the blame and hardship alone.

His reputation for these “sins” was well-known, yet new victims kept emerging. Why? Because among all his many talents, he was particularly gifted at pretending to be in love. Even those who had heard the rumors and tried to be cautious found themselves unable to resist. Grayson would speak exactly the words they wanted to hear and fulfill their every desire, as though he would sacrifice anything—even his life—for them.

As a result, they would always think, ‘This time, it’s real.’ Or, ‘This one’s different.’

And when they inevitably discovered that it had all been a lie, it was too late.

‘You weren’t my destiny. Goodbye.’

That was often the joke-like farewell. So, many whispered that Grayson Miller only enjoys pretending to fall in love. After all, how could someone who was once so passionate about their partner turn so cold? People didn’t have a button to turn their feelings on and off at will.

Yet, some argued that Grayson did fall in love—it just never lasted long enough to matter.

Whether it was a delusion or the truth, the outcome was the same. Grayson would make his partner fall in love, then leave without a second thought, indifferent to how devastated they were left behind. To him, it was simply ‘not his problem.’

“Found a new ‘destiny’ or something?”

The man on Grayson’s right asked with a grin, his tone mocking, as if talking about a puppy trying to mate with another dog at the park. The other man, on Grayson’s left, didn’t miss a beat and reached out to touch Grayson’s body, asking,

“So, what kind of job are you doing now? If it’s something that fits you, maybe service industry work?”

He blinked seductively, looking up at Grayson. Slowly leaning in, the other man on the other side of Grayson also began to caress his thigh. Grayson smiled faintly, clearly enjoying the attention.

Both hands caressing his arms and thigh were undeniably bold, but Grayson acted as though it was perfectly normal, not moving away as he spoke.

“I guess I’ll have to find out.”

At that, one of the twins asked,

“How about a job that involves wearing a uniform? It’s sexy.”

“A cop or something?”

The other twin immediately followed up, caressing Grayson’s thigh and the curve of his hip.

How thrilling it would be to spend the night with this alpha? Their excitement already stirred something deep inside them, and they couldn’t help but speak in an «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» attempt to win Grayson over.

“I bet you’d do great in that role.”

Grayson smirked at the comment.

“Do you think so?”

It was a simple reply, but both men gasped in surprise. Even the bartenders, who had been mixing cocktails in the back, stopped and stared, wide-eyed. They quickly averted their gazes and resumed their work, but Grayson responded leisurely, his smile still in place.

“A great job, huh.”

“Grayson as a cop...”

“Yeah, it’s cool, right? It suits you. I love the idea of a cop. Sexy.”

While one man was flustered, the other quickly flattered Grayson. The first man rushed to add his own comment.

“Of course, it suits you. I just never thought Grayson would do something like that. Grayson, how about arresting me? Officer, should I lie on the hood?”