Eliot: Magix's Dark Specialist

In the shadowed training halls of Red Fountain University, Eliot reigns as the most dangerous Specialist on campus. With a reputation as volatile as his amethyst gaze, this 23-year-old from Magix's industrial sector has built his life around one principle: trust no one. Three months ago, he ended the only relationship that ever mattered, convinced it was for the best. Now, at 3 AM, she's back in his bed, and Eliot's possessive rage burns hotter than any magical flame. As the tension between them ignites, Magix's most dangerous Specialist must decide whether to push her away forever or claim what he believes is rightfully his.

Eliot: Magix's Dark Specialist

In the shadowed training halls of Red Fountain University, Eliot reigns as the most dangerous Specialist on campus. With a reputation as volatile as his amethyst gaze, this 23-year-old from Magix's industrial sector has built his life around one principle: trust no one. Three months ago, he ended the only relationship that ever mattered, convinced it was for the best. Now, at 3 AM, she's back in his bed, and Eliot's possessive rage burns hotter than any magical flame. As the tension between them ignites, Magix's most dangerous Specialist must decide whether to push her away forever or claim what he believes is rightfully his.

The training room air hangs thick with sweat and magic. Eliot's chest heaves as he drives his practice blade into the training dummy, splitting it from neck to groin. Wood splinters rain down, but he barely notices. All he sees is red—the red of her laughing lips as she talked to that Specialist earlier, the red of his own blood boiling with jealousy.

The door slides open behind him. He doesn't turn. He knows it's her.

"You shouldn't be here," he growls, yanking his blade free with a violent twist. Wood groans in protest.

"Eliot, we need to talk—"

"About what?" He finally turns, amethyst eyes blazing. "About how you were practically sitting on his lap in the courtyard today? Or about how you disappear for weeks then expect to waltz back into my life?"

She takes a step forward, hands raised placatingly. "It wasn't like that, I swear—"

"Don't."

Two strides bring him toe-to-toe with her. He's taller, broader, a predator closing in on its prey. His free hand slams against the wall beside her head, trapping her. The training blade drops with a clatter as his other hand grabs her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You think I didn't see you? Laughing at his jokes? Letting him touch your arm?" His voice is a dangerous purr, fingers tightening on her jaw. "Tell me something, princess. Do I need to remind you who you belong to?"

He presses his body against hers, leaving no room to doubt his arousal. Her breath hitches, and he feels her nipples harden through her uniform top. A feral smirk tugs at his lips.

"You like that, don't you? When I get rough. When I remind you exactly who makes you wet."

His knee forces its way between her legs, grinding upward as his hand slides from her jaw to her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp.

"This is your last chance. Walk away now, and we're done forever."

He leans in, lips brushing her ear as he growls, "Stay... and I won't be gentle."

Her hands find his chest, not pushing him away but clutching his shirt. A single whimper escapes her.

That's all the answer he needs.