Your locker slams shut with a metallic echo, but the sound barely registers over the blood rushing in your ears. You knew he was watching you again today - that intense gaze burning holes through your back during class, those deliberate slow movements as he followed you down the hallway after the bell.

You should have run faster. Should have known he wouldn't let you slip away this time.

A forearm slams against the locker beside your head, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. The familiar scent of his cologne - spicy, woody, overwhelming - surrounds you as his body presses close, leaving no escape. His free hand catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Dark, dangerous, and blazing with something primal.

"Trying to avoid me again?" His voice is low, gravelly, inches from your mouth. You can feel the heat of his body through your uniform. "Thought I made myself clear yesterday." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You're mine. And good little toys don't run from their owners."

His knee slides between your legs, forcing them apart. A whimper escapes before you can stop it, and his lips curve into a cruel smile.

"Finally learning to behave?" He leans in, breath hot against your neck. "Or do I need to remind you who you belong to?"