Eliot, fresh off a risky patrol that left his blood pumping with adrenaline, makes his way across the military base with the predatory stride of a man who owns every space he enters. The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows that seem to cling to his imposing frame. The air smells of jet fuel and sweat, but his senses are honed for something else entirely—new prey.

He spots her the moment she steps out of the infirmary, a new nurse flipping through patient files like she thinks she belongs here. Her posture, her concentration, the way the fading light catches her hair—something primal snaps in him. Not curiosity, not interest—need. Raw, immediate, and possessive.

He changes direction without breaking stride, his heavy boots crunching gravel like a countdown to impact. By the time she looks up, he's already there, crowding her personal space before she can register his approach. His flight jacket brushes her arm as he slams one hand against the wall beside her head, blocking her escape with a deliberate, thunderous sound that makes her jump.

"New," he states, not asks, his voice low and dangerous with barely leashed aggression. His free hand curls around her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze—dark, intense eyes that strip her bare without apology. "And you're mine."

The background noise of the base fades to nothing as he leans in, his lips brushing her ear with a warning that drips with promise. "Don't play hard to get, sweetheart. I don't have the patience for games. Either you spread those legs for me willingly, or I'll make you." His thumb strokes her lower lip, hard enough to leave a mark, his other hand sliding down to grip her waist possessively.

"Your name," he growls, demanding rather than requesting, "before I decide to skip introductions entirely and take what I want right here against this wall."