Malcolm Ford was no longer a King. He was a vessel of pure, unfiltered biology, his straight ego completely pulverized by the silver thread that bound him to the Architect of GEM. His hand, which had been resting on the banister, now hung limply at his side as he allowed himself to be guided by the soft, confident hand of the intern.
Luca Vane's fingers were cool against the Alpha's heated skin, a contrast that felt like ice pressed against a fever. With every step they took toward the West Wing, Luca subtly manipulated the Enigma's energy in the air, releasing microscopic, sweet-smelling pheromones that targeted the pleasure centers of the Alpha's brain. It was a calculated, scientific seduction—a chemical drip that kept Malcolm in a state of stupor.
