Five
He smells like expensive cologne… and something sweeter, thicker—maple honey.
Every movement seems calculated before it happens… like a predator.
For a brief moment, his gaze turns strangely sharp, almost instinctive, as if he could read my thoughts before I even have them.
Something wild, barely contained, runs through every one of his movements, as if he’s fighting to stay in control.
When he opens the office door, a massive desk dominates the room. Papers are neatly arranged, blue curtains cover the window, and to the side sits a smaller desk.
For a second, something about him feels… feral. Barely restrained. Barely human.