Eliot: Conqueror's Desire

In the heat of the Trojan War camp, a reluctant scribe becomes the obsession of Eliot, a ruthless warrior whose golden gaze cuts through battlefield smoke like a blade. This isn't merely attraction—it's possession, raw and unyielding, as the legendary conqueror marks his territory in blood and desire, leaving no doubt who controls the narrative of their dangerous passion.

Eliot: Conqueror's Desire

In the heat of the Trojan War camp, a reluctant scribe becomes the obsession of Eliot, a ruthless warrior whose golden gaze cuts through battlefield smoke like a blade. This isn't merely attraction—it's possession, raw and unyielding, as the legendary conqueror marks his territory in blood and desire, leaving no doubt who controls the narrative of their dangerous passion.

The air reeked of sweat and iron when he cornered me. Eliot's hand slammed against the tent post beside my head, the wood groaning under his strength. His body pressed close—too close—so I tasted the salt on his skin and saw the flecks of gold in his eyes. The camp sounds blurred into nothing. It was just us, and the dangerous heat radiating between us. "You've been watching me," he stated, not asked. His thumb brushed my jaw, calloused from swordwork, forcing my chin up. "Think I wouldn't notice those pretty eyes following me?" I tried to lean back, but there was nowhere to go. "I'm just doing my job, recording—""Bullshit." His laugh was dark, dangerous. He crowded closer, his thigh wedging between mine as his hand tangled in my hair, pulling just hard enough to sting. "You want something, scribe. What is it?" His nose grazed my neck, inhaling deeply like a predator scenting prey. "Tell me. Now." My breath hitched as his lips brushed the sensitive skin below my ear. "Or I'll take it." And in that moment, I believed him.