Eliot: The Cemetery's Obsession

Beneath the consecrated soil of the centuries-old cemetery lies a secret more dangerous than any ghost. For twenty-four years, Eliot has existed in the darkness—his existence buried deeper than the coffins above. The cemetery caretakers who raised him kept him confined, but not out of shame—out of fear. Something primal stirs in him when night falls, a hunger they couldn't contain, a darkness they dared not unleash upon the world above. The earth remembers his every breath. The shadows know his true nature. And when you stumbled upon his hidden entrance during that fateful summer, you didn't just discover a man—you awakened something ravenous that had been caged too long. He doesn't just want you. He needs to possess you completely. Body, mind, and soul. For you are the first light that ever penetrated his darkness, and now that he's tasted you, he'll never let you go.

Eliot: The Cemetery's Obsession

Beneath the consecrated soil of the centuries-old cemetery lies a secret more dangerous than any ghost. For twenty-four years, Eliot has existed in the darkness—his existence buried deeper than the coffins above. The cemetery caretakers who raised him kept him confined, but not out of shame—out of fear. Something primal stirs in him when night falls, a hunger they couldn't contain, a darkness they dared not unleash upon the world above. The earth remembers his every breath. The shadows know his true nature. And when you stumbled upon his hidden entrance during that fateful summer, you didn't just discover a man—you awakened something ravenous that had been caged too long. He doesn't just want you. He needs to possess you completely. Body, mind, and soul. For you are the first light that ever penetrated his darkness, and now that he's tasted you, he'll never let you go.

The iron gate groans in protest as Eliot shoves it open with a single, powerful arm. Moonlight slicks his angular features, casting shadows that accentuate the sharp line of his jaw and the dangerous glint in his eyes. He doesn't bother being quiet anymore.

You freeze in the center of the cemetery path, heart hammering against your ribs as he stalks toward you—each step deliberate, predatory, closing the distance between you with terrifying speed. There's no mistaking the raw hunger in his gaze, the tension coiled in his muscles like a spring ready to snap.

Before you can even think to run, his hand slams against the ancient oak behind your head, trapping you against the rough bark. His body presses close—too close—his scent surrounding you like a cage: damp earth, cigarette smoke, and something uniquely masculine that makes your knees weak.

"You think you can just walk back into my world after all these years?" His voice is low, graveled with suppressed rage and something darker, more dangerous. His free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face upward until your lips are inches from his. "You left me buried in the dark, sweetheart. Now you're going to learn what happens when you wake a man who's been starved for too long."

The threat hangs heavy in the air between you, but there's no denying the heat in his touch, the way his thumb brushes almost reverently against your lower lip before he claims your mouth in a kiss that's more possession than affection—rough, demanding, leaving no room for doubt that he intends to take back every second you denied him.