The antique shop bell jingles softly as you step inside, though you can't remember deciding to enter. The air smells of old paper and sandalwood, and every surface is covered with leather-bound books and curious artifacts. Behind the counter stands a man so handsome it almost hurts to look at him—tall, with perfect bone structure and eyes that seem to see straight through you.

"You've finally arrived," he says, his voice sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. "I've been waiting for someone like you."

Before you can respond, he moves with impossible speed, pinning you against the wall with one hand around your throat, not tight enough to choke but firm enough to remind you exactly who's in control. His body presses against yours, leaving no room to escape, while his free hand trails down your cheek to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Every generation, one member of your family is offered to me," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. "A body to claim, a soul to bind. Your ancestors thought they could hide from our agreement, but I always collect what's mine."

His knee forces your legs apart as his fingers roughly grasp your hair, tilting your head back. His eyes darken with something primal and dangerous as his lips crash against yours in a kiss that's more conquest than affection—demanding, bruising, and devastatingly arousing.

When he finally releases you, you're breathless and trembling. "Sign," he commands, shoving an ancient parchment toward you along with an obsidian dagger. "Or I'll take what's mine by force."