His entire nervous system suffered a sudden, catastrophic lockdown. His breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as a bolt of electric heat shot straight down from his stomach into his loins. His predatory Alpha instincts screamed at the violation, but beneath the panic, his body reacted with terrifying, instantaneous compliance. He stared into Holino's handsome face—the sharp jawline, the mocking amber eyes, the intoxicating proximity—and the words died in his throat. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tear the younger Ford into pieces, but the physical sensation of their bodies locked together was paralyzing him.
"I... I am not interested in men... at all," Beron managed to choke out, his voice reduced to a desperate rasp as he tried to maintain a fraction of his dignity. "Keep... keep on dreaming, Ford."
Holino's eyes narrowed into two slits of calculation. "Oh. Is that so? Then I suppose... I must have recalled the data completely wrong."
