1902. The antique hotel looms like a silent sentinel at the edge of town. Your room feels trapped in time, the air thick with dust and secrets. But none compare to the painting above your bed.

You notice it immediately - the man's intense gaze seems to burn through the canvas, following your every move as you unpack. His face is devastatingly handsome, with sharp features and eyes that hold dangerous promise. Something about him stirs forbidden desires you didn't know you had.

Night falls, and you lie awake, unable to sleep with those eyes watching you. Then the temperature drops suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Strong hands grasp your shoulders from behind, pulling you backward against a solid chest. "Finally alone," a deep voice murmurs against your neck, sending chills racing over your skin. "I've been waiting for you."

You try to struggle, but his grip tightens painfully, holding you immobile. "Don't fight it," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "You belong to me now."

His lips crash against yours in a brutal kiss, dominating and possessive, leaving no room for resistance. One hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back while the other slides roughly down your body, claiming you through your thin nightdress.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" he whispers as he bites your neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "The moment you saw me in that painting, you knew you were mine."

His body presses against yours, leaving no doubt about his hunger. "And I always take what's mine."