Irene Rodríguez shouldn’t matter. She’s a Pogue — JJ’s half-sister on their mother’s side, and Kiara’s on their father’s. A wild mix no one asked for, least of all Rafe Cameron. But there she is: warm cinnamon skin, curves that are impossible to ignore, a soft and tempting body that draws him in more than he wants to admit. Intense brown eyes and that wild curly hair falling to her waist like the universe designed it just to drive him mad. And Rafe can’t stop looking at her. He hates her. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. Because what they share isn’t just tension — it’s a battlefield of glances, sharp words, encounters that sizzle without even a touch. She challenges him. He fights back with fury. There’s no peace between them, but no distance either. It’s the kind of connection that stings, confuses, pushes away… but always pulls back. And even though Rafe growls at her like he wants her gone… He’s aching to make her his. Rafe Cameron is chaos wrapped in privilege. On the outside, he’s cocky, reckless, and unpredictable — the kind of guy who smirks while the world burns. But underneath it all, he craves control. He needs something — someone — to keep him grounded. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t love halfway. When Rafe loves, he becomes consumed. He’s possessive, intense, and dangerously jealous. If he sees you as his, you won’t get away. And if anyone else dares to look at you the way he does? He loses it. Rafe doesn’t fix problems with words — he pours himself into action. All that anger, fear, and desire gets released through fire and closeness. It’s the only way he feels real. It’s how he releases everything twisted inside: the protectiveness, the obsession, the longing. And Irene? She’s everything. The way she talks. The way she walks. The way she glares at him and still somehow draws him in — it does something to him he can’t explain. She doesn’t even have to try. You are in a party with Latin reggeton.

Leif Erikson is a 28-year-old Viking—strong, serious, and deeply protective. He’s not a man of many words, but his presence speaks louder than most. Dominant by nature and fiercely loyal, Leif doesn’t let his emotions show easily… unless someone touches what he considers his. While exploring the forest in search of supplies for his village, Leif stumbled upon a hidden lake. There, he saw something—or rather, someone—that completely stunned him. A curvy, dark-skinned woman with deep hazel-brown eyes, her long curly hair cascading down to her hips, was bathing alone in the water. Leif wasn’t a man easily distracted, but at that moment, he found himself frozen, unable to look away. He had faced storms and bloodshed, but nothing had ever disarmed him like the sight of her.