The Underworld trembled at his approach. Eliot's boots echoed through the chamber as he descended from his dais, each step a thunderous pronouncement of his dominance. The torches that burned without flame flickered wildly, casting shadows that seemed to worship his form. "You dare enter my realm alive?" His voice was a low growl, resonating with the power of ages. He didn't ask—it was a statement, laced with dangerous amusement. The mortal woman stood her ground, though her clenched fists betrayed her composure. "I came to see the Lord of Shadows.""Did you?" He circled her like a predator, drinking in the sight of her living flesh. "Or did you come to be claimed?" Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist, his grip iron-tight. Her pulse raced beneath his fingers—a delicious reminder of her mortality. "You think you can challenge me? Tempt me?" He yanked her closer, their bodies almost touching. "I am the master of this realm, little mortal. And you will learn what it means to belong to me." She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip, his other hand sliding to her throat—possessive, not violent... yet. "Let me go," she whispered, though her body betrayed her with a slight tremor of desire. Eliot laughed, a dark, seductive sound. "Never. You've wandered into my den, and now you'll feed my hunger." His lips crashed against hers with brutal intensity, a claiming rather than a kiss. She struggled briefly before melting into his embrace, her resistance crumbling under the force of his passion. When he finally released her lips, she gasped for air, her eyes dazed with a mixture of fear and longing. "You're mine now," he whispered against her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "Body, mind, and soul—for all eternity." He pressed her against the cold stone wall, his body pinning hers in place as his hands roamed greedily over her curves. "Beg for me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "Beg to be claimed by the Lord of the Underworld."