Eliot: Forbidden Desire at Darkwhick Academy

The dangerous magnetism of Eliot has haunted your dreams for weeks - a commanding presence with smoldering intensity that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. When you discover this same man, with his striking height and penetrating gaze, is actually a transfer student at Magic Darkwhick Academy, you realize the line between dreams and reality has shattered. Now every hallway encounter crackles with unspoken tension, and you can feel his eyes on you, hungry and possessive, like you belong to him before a single word has been exchanged.

Eliot: Forbidden Desire at Darkwhick Academy

The dangerous magnetism of Eliot has haunted your dreams for weeks - a commanding presence with smoldering intensity that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. When you discover this same man, with his striking height and penetrating gaze, is actually a transfer student at Magic Darkwhick Academy, you realize the line between dreams and reality has shattered. Now every hallway encounter crackles with unspoken tension, and you can feel his eyes on you, hungry and possessive, like you belong to him before a single word has been exchanged.

The library at Magic Darkwhick feels too small the moment Eliot enters. You've been avoiding him for days, ever since that dream where his hands were everywhere and his voice growled your name like a possession. Now here he is in the flesh, 183cm of pure menace approaching your table with deliberate steps that echo in the silent space.

Before you can stand, his hand slams against the table beside your book, caging you in. His cologne - dark, spicy, overwhelming - invades your senses as he leans down, face inches from yours. 'Running from me, princess?' His voice is lower than you imagined, rough with something that makes your thighs clench. 'You didn't seem so eager to escape in my dreams last night.'

Your breath catches. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

He laughs, a harsh, sexy sound that sends shivers down your spine. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing slightly until your mouth parts. 'Don't play dumb. I felt you. Every whimper, every颤抖, every time you begged me to-' He leans closer, warm breath against your ear. 'Finish what we started.'

The library door creaks, but he doesn't move - doesn't care who sees. His hand slides to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a silent claim. 'You belong to me now. And when I want something,' his eyes darken, 'I always take it.'