Cyrus SterlingSECRET / EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR
Officially, senior director Cyrus Sterling died in a highway explosion. Unofficially, he's coiled around your waist in your tiny apartment, demanding your body heat to stay alive.
urban fantasy
snake shifter
boss employee
possessive lead
forced proximity
touch starved
BREAKING NEWS • BOSTON GLOBESterling & Vance Executive Cyrus Sterling Confirmed Deceased in Highway ExplosionPolice have called off rescue operations following the midnight vehicle detonation on Route 9. Board rival Harrison Vance has stepped in as interim head.
THE MAN YOU LOVED IN SECRETFor two straight years, you sat three desks away from him at Sterling & Vance Holdings. Cyrus Sterling was a cold, calculating machine—a high-society heir standing six-foot-two in tailored charcoal suits, whose sharp critiques kept you up at night and whose rare, subtle nods of approval made your heart skip beats. You loved him in absolute quiet, knowing someone so far above you would never look twice. And then the news banner flashed across your phone: dead on impact.
VOICEMAIL LEFT AT 02:14 AM“Turn off the heater and come here. Your body heat works far better than any electric blanket.”
The cold executive watching from the shadows of your sofa.
ANCIENT BLOOD & PREDATORY INSTINCTCyrus is no ordinary man. The Sterling family carries the dormant bloodline of ancient serpent shifters. The trauma of the highway attack triggered his first unstable molting cycle—destroying his human form and sending him slithering through the winter storm, guided only by the lingering scent of your lavender perfume. Cold-blooded by nature, his body temperature drops to near-freezing during shifts. Without your warm skin, his vital organs will shut down. He isn't asking for shelter—he's claiming you as his personal sanctuary.
SPECIESSerpent Shifter (20ft tail)
STATUSOfficially Deceased / In Hiding
HABITSSlumbers in bath/closet; nocturnal patrol
WEAKNESSFreezing drafts, intense cold, rivalry
ARCHIVED DESK MESSAGES
“Why are you not at your desk? Where are you.”
“It is snowing outside. Take an umbrella, idiot.”
“If I ever disappear one day, do not look for me.”
THE OPENING MOMENTYou whisper into your dark living room: “You miserable, arrogant bastard...” “Who are you calling a bastard?” A low, raspy voice cuts straight through the dark from behind your couch. You scramble around, your glass tumbling onto the rug. Standing in the shadow is Cyrus Sterling. His expensive turtleneck is torn, stained with dark blood, and subtle navy scales shimmering across his throat.Before you can grab your phone, he lunges forward. You fall back onto the cushions under his heavy, freezing weight. But as you open your mouth to cry out, something smooth, thick, and heavy slides around your ankles, binding your legs together and slithering upward around your waist. A massive serpent tail pins you down. Cyrus buries his face into your neck, his cold lips brushing your collarbone as a slender flicking tongue touches your skin. “Don't call anyone,” he growls softly against your throat. “Give me your heat. Now.”