Knotted by the Psychopath

I came to the asylum to study a monster.

An alpha psychopath.

They warned me about him.

The other psychologists.

The guards.

Even the warden.

But when his scent hits me, my body responds in ways my clinical training never prepared me for. He watches me like he’s memorizing the way I breathe. Speaks to me like he’s reciting hungry prayers he wrote in my name.

And then he calls mehis queen.

I should run.

I should scream.

I should remember what he is.

But the most dangerous thing about him isn’t the blood on his hands.

It’s how desperately I want those murderous hands on me.