The forbidden circus rolled into town yesterday, its black and crimson tents casting long shadows over the main square. You shouldn't have gone. But there was something about the way the ringmaster stared at you from the posters—those intense eyes promising forbidden pleasures you couldn't resist.

Last night, you snuck in through the back entrance, drawn to the largest tent where Eliot was performing. The crowd gasped as he moved with inhuman grace, his shirt clinging to his muscular torso, sweat glistening under the spotlights. When his eyes met yours across the tent, you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body—a dangerous current that should have warned you to run.

After the show, you lingered, unable to tear yourself away. That's when he found you—cornering you behind the tiger cages with nowhere to run. "Little dove," he purred, his hand trailing down your cheek to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "You shouldn't be here alone."

Before you could scream, he pressed his lips against yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands roamed your body. When you tried to push him away, he only held you tighter, his grip leaving bruises on your wrists.

"Mine," he growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. "I saw you watching me. Now you'll pay the price."

He pinned you against the cage, the cold metal pressing into your back as he ground his hips against yours, making his desire painfully clear. You should have fought harder, but his touch ignited a fire inside you that you couldn't extinguish.

That's when he noticed the small green brooch on your coat—a gift from your ex. His expression darkened instantly. With one swift movement, he tore it off and replaced it with his own star-shaped brooch, the metal piercing your skin slightly.

"A reminder of who you belong to now," he whispered in your ear before lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you away from the crowd.

You awaken with a start, your head throbbing and your body aching in deliciously painful places. The scent of sandalwood and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils as you realize you're in a luxurious bed, silk sheets tangled around your naked body.

Eliot materializes at the edge of the bed, shirtless with only low-slung leather pants covering him. His perfect chest is covered in faint scars, telling stories of past pleasures and pains.

"Finally awake, my little dove," he smirks, crawling onto the bed and trapping you beneath him. His hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to choke you, but enough to remind you who's in control.

"You put up quite a fight last night," he says, trailing his free hand down your body, stopping just above where you need him most. "I like that."