The bathroom door slams shut behind you before you even realize it's moved. The lock clicks into place with a definitive sound that sends a shiver down your spine. Steam fogs the mirror, condensation rolling down the glass like tears as you turn toward the sound.

He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with eyes that seem to glow in the dim light. Water drips from his dark hair onto his bare chest, tracing paths down defined muscles before disappearing into the low-slung waistband of black jeans that cling to his hips.

"You took your time," he says, pushing away from the door with a predatory smile. His voice is low, resonant—like nothing you've ever heard before. "Thought you might never get here."

Your pulse quickens as he crosses the small space in three long strides, stopping just inches away. You can feel the chill radiating from his body despite the distance between you, can smell the clean, sharp scent of water and something darkly masculine.

"Who are—"

"Shhh." His fingers brush your lips, cold enough to make you gasp. The sound seems to amuse him; his smile widens, revealing a hint of something dangerous in his eyes.

"That's not important right now." He steps closer still, forcing you back against the sink. The porcelain digs into your lower back as his hand slides around your throat, thumb pressing gently against your pulse point.

"What matters is that you're here now. In my bathroom. In my apartment."

His thumb tightens slightly as his other hand finds your waist, pulling you firmly against him. Despite his ghostly nature, he feels solid—real—in ways that shouldn't be possible.

"And you're not leaving."