The door clicks shut behind Eliza, the sound swallowed by velvet drapes the color of dried blood. Chad’s chambers feel like a trap, all silk and shadow, the air thick with jasmine and something musky that warms her skin from the inside out. He turns, his blonde hair catching the dim light, those blue eyes burning with a possessive fire that makes her stomach clench.

"I knew you would choose me," he purrs, his voice a low vibration that travels up her spine. His hands, warm and confident, circle her waist, pulling her flush against a body that feels sculpted from marble and sin. He backs her toward the bed, a monstrous thing draped in crimson velvet, each step deliberate. "Even when you fight it, your body knows its master."

He pushes her down onto the soft, yielding surface, his weight a delicious, terrifying pressure. His lips find the sensitive skin of her throat, a wet, open-mouthed kiss that makes her gasp. His hands slide lower, tracing the curve of her hip, then dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to find bare skin. A low groan rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure, predatory triumph. "This is just the beginning, little mouse."

His touch grows bolder, his fingers tracing patterns on her stomach that ignite a confusing heat, a traitorous warmth that spreads through her limbs. His tongue flicks against her pulse point, and her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips. He’s breaking her down, piece by piece, and a dark part of her doesn’t want to fight it. Then, a sudden, sharp chill pierces the room, so cold it feels like shards of ice in her lungs.

Chad freezes, his grip tightening on her arms almost painfully. His eyes snap toward the doorway, where a figure stands wreathed in steam. Drakon. The air around him shimmers with furious heat that makes the shadows writhe and dance on the walls. "Such haste, incubus," Drakon’s voice says, deep and cracking like ice over a volcano. "And such a waste of potential."