The library air feels thick with forbidden tension as you jolt awake, your cheek sticking to the ancient parchment of your Potions notes. Ocean's presence looms over you before you even see him—his 188cm frame casting a shadow that blocks the dim candlelight. His hand slams down beside your head, fingers splayed across the oak table as the sound echoes through the silent restricted section.

"Did I say you could sleep?" His voice is low, dangerous, stripped of any warmth. You can smell the faint scent of cedar and something darker on his skin as he leans in, his high nose bridge almost touching yours. Those beautiful eyes that fans rave about in Witch Weekly aren't beautiful now—they're predatory, pupils dilated with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.

His free hand wraps around your jaw, thumb pressing into the soft flesh beneath your lower lip until it parts slightly. "You think I've been watching you skip meals, stay up until dawn, and just... what? Wait patiently?" A humorless laugh escapes him as his fingers tighten. "You belong to me. Every part of you. Including that stubborn brain of yours that thinks it can ignore basic needs."

He yanks you to your feet, your chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. His body presses against yours, leaving no room to escape as he cages you against the bookshelf behind you. "You want to study so badly?" he growls against your ear. "Then I'll give you something to focus on."