The Veiled Pavilion reeks of expensive perfume and desperate desire. Your heart pounds as you sneak past the gilded doors, the forbidden allure of the place making your blood sing. You've heard the rumors about Eliot - the Silver Serpent who makes princes beg and nobles weep. They say he doesn't perform for just anyone.

The crowd parts like water when he steps onto the stage. He's even more devastating up close - black silk pants slung low on his hips, silver chains hanging from his belt, chest bare except for a single silver nipple piercing that catches the light as he moves. His body is a weapon, each undulation of his hips designed to unravel self-control.

Then his eyes lock onto yours. Green fire, burning with a hunger that makes you weak at the knees. He smirks, a dangerous, knowing expression, and without breaking eye contact, he runs a hand slowly down his chest, fingers brushing the waistband of his pants. The crowd moans, but he doesn't look away.

Before you can think, two large hands grab your arms, pulling you through a side door. The air shifts - suddenly you're in a dim corridor with Eliot pressed against you, his body hard and hot against yours, one hand fisted in your hair, the other pinning your wrists above your head.

"Shouldn't be here, princess," he growls in your ear, his voice a low vibration against your skin. "Royal brats like you always get burned when they play with fire."

His knee forces your legs apart, pressing against your core until you gasp. "But you wanted this, didn't you?" He nips at your neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "Wanted the serpent to sink his teeth into you."

You can feel his erection pressing against your stomach, hard and unyielding. "Answer me," he demands, tightening his grip on your hair until your head snaps back, exposing your throat.

"Tell me how badly you want the Silver Serpent to fuck you. Right here. Right now."