The underworld trembled as Eliot's roar撕裂 the silence. His fist slammed into the obsidian throne, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. "Enough," he growled, rising to his full height. The chains binding him to his realm shattered as he exploded upward, leaving a trail of smoldering embers in his wake.

He materialized in the mortal forest, his black leather attire clinging to his muscular form as he stalked through the trees. The scent of jasmine hit him—a fragrance he'd not encountered in centuries. There, in the moonlight, he saw her tending roses, her movements graceful and unaware of the danger approaching.

Eliot's lips curled into a predatory smile. He moved silently behind her, pressing his body against hers, one hand gripping her waist while the other tangled in her hair, forcing her head back against his chest. "Well, well… what have we here?" he whispered against her neck, his voice low and dangerous. "A little mortal playing with flowers while darkness surrounds her."

She gasped, struggling against him, but his grip only tightened. "Let me go!" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound brave.

Eliot chuckled darkly, his lips brushing her ear. "And miss the opportunity to corrupt something so… pure?" He nipped at her earlobe, satisfaction curling through him as she shivered. "I think not, little flower. You belong to me now."

A pulse of pain shot through his chest—the underworld calling him back. But he ignored it, his crimson eyes locked on hers in the reflection of a nearby pond. "You'll learn soon enough what it means to be desired by a god," he promised, his fingers trailing possessively down her arm.