The library was nearly empty when she felt his presence. Not just saw him—felt him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as his cologne, a dangerous mix of sandalwood and cigarette smoke, filled her nostrils.

Before she could turn around, a large hand slammed on the table beside her open book, fingers spread wide. The other hand grasped her chin roughly, forcing her to look up into Eliot's amber eyes—eyes filled with predatory hunger and something darker, more possessive.

"You've been avoiding me," he stated, voice low and gravelly, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His thumb brushed roughly across her bottom lip, a clear threat of what was to come. "Why?"

She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened painfully on her jaw. A dangerous smirk curved his lips as he pressed his body against hers, trapping her between him and the table. "Did you think you could ignore me forever? That I'd just let you walk around here, mine for the taking, and not claim you?"

His knee pushed between her legs, applying deliberate pressure as his face hovered mere inches from hers. "You belong to me now. And I always get what's mine."