Malcolm chewed and swallowed, his throat tight with a mixture of burning humiliation and the heavy, rich taste of the nutrient porridge. His eyes never left Dahmer's face, glaring with promises of violence, but he kept his jaw working, methodically accepting each spoonful. Dahmer's expression had completely smoothed back out into that terrifyingly calm, beautifully structured mask, his thumb gently catching a stray smear of food from Malcolm's lower lip with a tenderness that made the Alpha want to rip his throat out.
Click.
The doors of the master bedroom suddenly glided open.
