The restroom door clicked open, and Malcolm stepped out into the softly lit corridor of the Madmento hotel, desperately trying to project an aura of Alpha dominance despite the absolute chaos running through his veins. His suit jacket was yanked straight, his tie re-knotted with precision, but nothing could completely erase the telltale signs of the storm that had just occurred. His lips were slightly swollen, a faint, dark smudge of bruised color marking his neck right above his collar, and his breathing remained shallow and heavy.
Right behind him walked Dahmer, his presence completely radiating the pheromones of a deeply satisfied Enigma. Dahmer casually adjusted his cuffs, his flawless face entirely deadpan except for the faint, raw red indentation on his lower lip where Malcolm had bitten him—a stark, bloody receipt of the Alpha King's feral jealousy.
