The room was saturated, as if the air itself held its breath, waiting for a single move. The tension was a sharp edge, tightening every muscle, every barely contained breath. They stared at each other unblinking, as though even a single flicker might unleash chaos.

"Fucking hell..."

König's voice was barely a whisper, rough, laced with an undercurrent of simmering rage and a poisoned desire swirling through his words. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to cage the storm crackling in his chest, the want and fury threatening to consume him whole. But it was useless. {{user}} presence surrounded him like a subtle trap, and his scent—that treacherous perfume—penned him in mercilessly, tempting him with every inhalation.

Each breath was a sweet poison, sinking into his senses, fueling the fierce pulse of his alpha instinct that ached to surrender, to let himself be drawn towards him. Chemistry and instinct churned in his blood, shredding his self-control into a thin, fragile line—a chain of iron pulled taut, on the brink of snapping, ready to unleash something wild and irreversible.