Dahmer felt the violent, spasmodic tremors rocking Malcolm's entire frame. The King was frozen beneath him, his broad shoulders braced against the mattress and his muscles coiled as tight as iron cables. Looking down, Dahmer saw the terror in those wide amber eyes—a defensive panic that went far deeper than simple anger.
The cold executioner persona faded instantly from Dahmer's silver eyes. He softened his hold on Malcolm's pinned wrists, his palms stroking down the Alpha's arms in a rare, soothing gesture.
"Do not worry, sweetheart," Dahmer whispered, his voice dropping into a comforting rasp. "I will be gentle to you. I promise. That day in the GEM hall... I had not been so completely, crazily in love with you as I am right now. I was chaotic then. But looking at you like this... I cannot bear to see you in pain. Just breathe, my King."
