The suite was enshrouded in a tomb-like darkness, smelling of heavy musk and a lingering, heavy scent.
Kevin reached for the remote control and the room was lit, flooded with a clinical white glow.
The sight that met Kevin's eyes knocked the breath out of his lungs.
Killian was sprawled across the bed, half-naked, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of cold sweat.
One of his wrists was pinned to the bedpost by a jagged, bent set of handcuffs.
As Killian looked up at Kevin, the veins in his neck bulged like thick cords, and his eyes were a terrifying, bloodshot red.
A suffocating aura radiated from him.
Kevin froze, paralyzed by the sheer pressure in the air.
Killian tilted his head, a slow, angelic smirk spreading across his lips that didn't reach his burning eyes.
"You need an invitation, Kevin?" he said softly.
"Young Master!" Kevin snapped out of his daze. He lunged for a fruit knife on the discarded tray near the bed.
