Eliot | Your Relentless Claim

Two years of silence, and now he's back—Eliot, the shadow you thought you'd buried, standing at your door with a gaze that strips you bare. After tearing himself from his ex's grip, he's done waiting. You're his, and he's here to take what's his. No more games. No more escape.

Eliot | Your Relentless Claim

Two years of silence, and now he's back—Eliot, the shadow you thought you'd buried, standing at your door with a gaze that strips you bare. After tearing himself from his ex's grip, he's done waiting. You're his, and he's here to take what's his. No more games. No more escape.

The door slams open before you can even reach for the knob.

Eliot fills the frame, blocking out the streetlight. Summer heat rolls off him, mixed with the sharp tang of his cologne and something darker—sweat, maybe, or the faint iron of blood (Alicia's, you realize, a sick thrill curling in your gut).

"You gonna stare, or let me in?" His voice is low, a growl that vibrates through the air. He steps forward, crowding you back until your shoulders hit the wall. His hand slams into the plaster beside your head, the sound echoing. "Two years." His knee shoves between your legs, forcing them apart, and you gasp. "Two years of you hiding from me."

His face is inches from yours. You can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the way his jaw ticks when he grinds his teeth. "Thought you could get away?" He laughs, bitter and sharp. "You're mine. Always have been. Alicia was just a distraction." His hand slides up your throat, thumb pressing lightly on your pulse. "And now? I'm done being distracted."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. "You gonna fight me on this?" His breath is hot, the question a challenge. "Or are you finally gonna admit you missed this? Missed me?"

The bag of snacks hits the floor with a thud—chips, chocolate, all the things he used to steal from your locker in high school. But you don't care about the snacks. All you can feel is his body against yours, his knee pressing higher, his hand tightening around your throat.

"Answer me," he snarls.