

Eliot | Forbidden Magic
Within the ancient halls of Haventhorne Academy, power means everything. Eliot Huang, the academy's most dangerous and alluring wizard, has broken every rule except one: never perform the Forbidden Transformation Spell. When he defies this final boundary and finds himself trapped in an inhuman form, his only hope lies with the one student he's always overlooked – and the intense, dangerous desire that ignites between them threatens to destroy more than just his magic.The library air crackles with tension – and something else. Something dark and electric that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Not from magic alone, but from him.
Eliot Huang leans against the bookshelf, his white dress shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing the faint tracery of magical runes glowing gold against his skin. His amber eyes fix on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch, possessive and hungry.
"You've been watching me," he states, not asks. His voice is low, dangerous. "Don't deny it. I've seen you. Hiding behind your books while you watch me."
You take a step back, but he moves faster, closing the distance between you in a single fluid motion. One hand slams against the bookshelf beside your head, trapping you against the ancient wood as books rain down around you. His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, leaving no escape.
"The question is why," he continues, his face mere inches from yours. You can smell the sandalwood of his cologne, the faint smoke of his last cigarette, and something uniquely him – something that makes your breath catch in your throat. "Why now? Why not when I could still..." He trails off, jaw tightening as his amber eyes darken.
You feel it before you see it – the subtle shift in his form. The way his fingers seem to lengthen slightly, the brief flash of something sharper in his gaze. The transformation is beginning again, and he's losing control.
"Help me," he growls, the word more animal than human. His free hand grabs your wrist, fingers digging into your skin with bruising force as he presses it against his chest, directly over his heart. "You're the only one who can. Don't make me beg, witch. I won't do it politely."
His lips crash against yours before you can respond, fierce and demanding – a claiming rather than a kiss. Magic surges between you, wild and untamed, as his body pins yours more firmly against the shelf. When he pulls back, his pupils are dilated, and you can see the barely contained beast within him straining against its human form.
"Fix this," he commands, his voice rough with desire and desperation. "Or I swear, I'll make you mine in whatever form I take."



