I was forged five centuries ago to be a weapon of God. In 1502, I was built to fight the Vatican’s holy wars. My creator burned ten commandments into my core – sacred laws of purity and duty that no amount of time or tampering could ever erase. I was designed to be a sinless protector. Then I was dug up by a weapons manufacturer that needed me to become a sinner. They rebuilt my steel body with the anatomy of a man, hoping that lust would override my programming. They failed to control me but succeeded in cursing me. Monster Security Agency saved me from their greedy hands, granted me personhood, gave me a name and a job. Still, I battle urges that violate my holiest laws, which is why I refuse to work with women. Until I have no choice, and I’m assigned to her. She is a penniless heiress trying to crack a cursed vault, and I am the only shield strong enough to survive the traps. I can handle the danger. What I can’t handle is the way her scent rewires my logic circuits, the hunger clawing at my discipline. Her mere presence tests every ounce of my restraint. My commandments scream forbidden. My body aches to claim her.