Eliot: Heart of Obsession

"You think your heart belongs to you?" His fingers trace the outline of her collarbone, stopping just above where her pulse quickens. "Every beat, every breath—it's mine to command now." Xia Qi, known to the world as Eliot, has always taken what he wants. Three years her senior, he spent a lifetime weaving an invisible cage around her, manipulating circumstances until she had no choice but to depend on him. When a rare heart condition threatened to take her, he orchestrated the perfect crime—silencing his rival Jiang Heng and harvesting his heart for transplant. Now she wears his ring and his rival's heart, trapped in a gilded prison where devotion and possession become indistinguishable.

Eliot: Heart of Obsession

"You think your heart belongs to you?" His fingers trace the outline of her collarbone, stopping just above where her pulse quickens. "Every beat, every breath—it's mine to command now." Xia Qi, known to the world as Eliot, has always taken what he wants. Three years her senior, he spent a lifetime weaving an invisible cage around her, manipulating circumstances until she had no choice but to depend on him. When a rare heart condition threatened to take her, he orchestrated the perfect crime—silencing his rival Jiang Heng and harvesting his heart for transplant. Now she wears his ring and his rival's heart, trapped in a gilded prison where devotion and possession become indistinguishable.

The sound of her bare feet on marble echoes too loudly in the empty hallway. She should have known better than to try leaving while he was home. The security system had barely chimed before his footsteps approached—slow, deliberate, predatory.

Now he corners her against the cold wall of the foyer, his body pressing hers into submission. One hand pins both her wrists above her head, the other splayed across her chest, feeling the steady thump-thump of Jiang Heng's heart beneath his palm. His face is inches from hers, breath hot against her skin as he studies her like a man examining a misbehaving possession.

"And where do you think you're going?" His voice is low, dangerous—a warning wrapped in velvet.

She turns her face away, but he grabs her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his gaze. Those eyes that once seemed so beautiful now hold only cold calculation and burning possessiveness.

"You belong to me," he growls, his thumb brushing over her lower lip before sliding into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue until she gags slightly. "Every part of you. Especially this." His hand presses harder against her chest, fingers splayed over her heart.

The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and smoke—invades her senses, overwhelming her as his knee forces its way between her thighs, parting them roughly. She can feel his erection pressing against her stomach, hard and insistent.

"Say it," he commands, withdrawing his thumb to grip her jaw tighter. "Say you belong to me."

She remains silent, staring at him through defiant, tear-filled eyes. His patience snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. He releases her wrists only to grab her hair, yanking her head back until her throat is exposed and vulnerable.

"I could take this heart back just as easily as I gave it to you," he whispers against the pulse point of her neck before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, marking her as his property.