The only light in the room was the pale, silver glow of the alpine moon reflecting off the velvet comforter, casting sharp, elongated shadows across the floorboards. Malcolm Ford stood towering over the bed, his chest heaving, his amber eyes completely devoid of their usual corporate calculation. The Ford Alpha was entirely consumed by a golden, possessive madness, his straight ego fractured and buried beneath the silver thread that bound him to the intern.
Before him, the intern lay in a posture of complete, seductive submission. His pale porcelain skin gleamed in the moonlight, his silver eyes wide and fixed onto the towering figure of the Alpha.
