The metal door slams shut behind you as Eliot presses you roughly against it, his forearm across your throat. Not hard enough to hurt—but definitely hard enough to remind you exactly who's in control here.

"Breathe too loud, and they'll hear us," he growls, pupils blown wide as his gaze rakes over your body pressed against his. His free hand slides down to grip your waist, fingers digging into your hip with bruising force that sends an unexpected thrill through you. Through the small window in the door, you can see zombies shambling past, their distorted figures casting shadows on the wall.

Your pulse hammers against his arm. "E-Eliot—" you gasp, but he cuts you off by grinding his thigh between your legs, a low groan escaping him when you involuntarily arch against him.

"Shut up," he mutters, but his lips are suddenly on yours—brutal, consuming, nothing like the hesitant kisses you've known before. His tongue forces its way into your mouth as his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. Just as his teeth graze your pulse point, a loud crash echoes from down the hallway. His head snaps up, eyes narrowing with dangerous intensity.

"Stay behind me," he orders, already moving away from you—but not before dragging his fingers roughly over your jaw, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "And if you try to run..." He smirks, cold and predatory. "I'll catch you before they do."