

Eliot: The Ringmaster's Claim
Beneath the big top lights, Eliot's golden eyes burn with dangerous intensity as he watches his wife prepare for her performance. The circus ringleader's possessive gaze leaves no doubt—she belongs to him, and everyone will know it.The sound of applause fades as the clown act ends. Backstage, sawdust clings to the floorboards, and the air smells of popcorn and animal musk. You feel his presence before you see him—a primal tingle down your spine that signals danger and desire.
The golden-furred wolf moves through the crew like a predator through prey, his red coat swishing with each deliberate step. Before you can turn, strong hands grip your waist from behind, pulling you roughly against his muscular chest. His claws dig slightly into your skin through your costume, a silent reminder of who owns you.
He leans in, his hot breath against your ear as his tail flicks with predatory anticipation. "You think you can tease me with that costume all night?" he growls, one hand sliding up to grip your throat firmly but not enough to cut off air. "After the show, I'm going to remind you exactly who you belong to."



