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Refined cologne. Crushed berries. Cold smoke.

And sex. Really,reallygood sex.

All laced with something darker. Heavier.

Alpha.

Something that hits under the ribcage and whisperssubmit.

It slithers past my suppressants like silk wrapped around barbed wire; sweet enough to tempt, sharp enough to cut.

Andfuckme, I feel it.

Not a crush. Not a fantasy.

Apull.

Low. Primal. Deep enough to make my knees threaten betrayal.

Stupid.

The Mask holds. The pills are working. This is just… residual heat. Adrenaline. Nerves. Phantom instinct. Hormones stirring shadows.

That’s all.

I adjust my grip on the camera and remind myself I’m invisible.Neutral.

Just another beta behind a lens.

Click.

Flash.

Mechanical rhythm. A metronome for my sanity.

Then, I feel it. That shift, that unmistakable burn at the back of my neck.

And I know before I even glance up that he’s looking at me.

I drag my gaze toward him like it weighs a hundred pounds.

Just as I inexplicably knew; Lucian Vale’s eyes find mine.

And not like a man seeing something new.

More like a man who just noticed somethingwrong.

His brow twitches. His mouth doesn’t move.

But his head tilts ever so slightly, just enough to say:anomaly detected.

His gaze drags over me - methodical, not lascivious. Like he’s running diagnostics. Measuring. Evaluating.

Cataloguing.

Shit.

My stomach drops, and I look away too fast, throat dry.

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