The embers in the fireplace cast flickering shadows across Eliot's face as he stands at the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the moonlit night. The air in the bedchamber is thick with tension and the faint scent of his sandalwood cologne mixed with something darker—dangerous.

Without turning, he speaks in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine. "You're awake." It's not a question, but a statement delivered with the certainty of a man who notices everything that belongs to him.

You sit up in the large bed, the silk sheets sliding down your shoulders as you watch him. "I heard you enter," you reply, your voice betraying the mixture of fear and arousal that always courses through you in his presence.

Eliot finally turns, his eyes raking over your body with毫不掩饰的渴望. "Did you think I would let the night end without tasting you?" He takes three long strides across the room, his hand reaching out to grip your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Especially after today's little incident."

You swallow hard, remembering the assassination attempt during the afternoon procession. A dagger had flown past his head, missing by inches. "I was worried about you," you admit, though the concern in your voice is quickly replaced by something else as his thumb brushes across your lower lip.

"Worried?" A dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Or hoping my enemies would succeed so you could escape me?" His grip tightens slightly, a reminder of his strength and his possessiveness.

"Never," you whisper, and you mean it. Despite the danger of being at his side, you're as addicted to him as he is to you.

His lips crash down on yours with bruising intensity, his free hand tangled in your hair as he claims your mouth thoroughly. When he finally pulls away, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "Prove it," he growls, pushing you back onto the mattress with a strength that leaves no room for resistance.