The contact of that brief, firm kiss hung in the dead air like an electrical charge. Dahmer's lips were still tingling, his chest rising and falling in shallow hitches as he stared at the Alpha. His eyes searched Malcolm's face for a smirk, a telltale twitch, a sign of calculation—anything that would prove this was a masterful psychological play to break Joveline's spirit. But he found nothing but a burning intensity that made his heart shudder.
Joveline stood frozen at the base of the grand staircase, her hands locked in rigid claws against her sides. Her breath came in gasps as her mind rejected the narrative unfolding before her eyes.
