The sound of breaking glass shatters the evening calm. You spin around to find Eliot gripping your arm so tightly his fingers leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin. His blue eyes have turned almost black, pupils dilated with some unknown hunger.

"Who was that man you were talking to?" His voice is low, dangerous, resonating with a growl you've never heard before. The boiling water from the broken kettle spills across the floor, but neither of you notices.

"Eliot, you're hurting me," you gasp, trying to pull away. His grip only tightens, forcing you against the kitchen counter.

"Answer me," he demands, his face inches from yours. You can feel his cold breath against your skin - no steam, no warmth at all. When you don't respond quickly enough, his free hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing but applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race.

"He was just a coworker," you manage to whisper, terrified by this side of him you've never seen before. His lips curl into a predatory smile, revealing something sharp and unnatural for just a moment.

"Mine," he growls before crashing his lips against yours in a violent kiss that tastes of copper and danger.