The inside of the house was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be a messy warehouse full of beer cans and grease, but it was actually beautiful in a rugged way. The ceilings were high with thick wooden beams, and a large stone fireplace took up most of one wall. It felt solid. It felt like a place that could withstand the strongest wind.

Killian didn't say a word as he led me into a massive kitchen. He pulled out a heavy wooden chair at the island and pointed at it.

"Sit," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.

I sat. I watched him move around the kitchen. He said he prepared food, not I will watch him do it, I just laughed. He was so big that he made the room look small. He pulled a pan onto the stove and started cracking eggs. The smell of bacon soon filled the air, making my stomach growl loudly. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.

"Do you have a maid or something?" I asked, trying to break the heavy silence. "This place is way too clean for a bunch of bikers."

Killian didn't look back as he flipped the eggs. "No. I don't like strangers in my house. I'm not a fan of people in general."

"So you do all this yourself?"

"I like things done a certain way, Elena," he said. He turned around and placed a plate in front of me. It was piled high with food. "Eat. All of it."

"I can't eat all this," I argued, looking at the mountain of eggs and toast. "And I really need to get back to campus. I have a shift at the library and another class this afternoon."

"The library can wait. Your classes can wait. You're pale and you're shaking. Eat."

I picked up a fork and started eating. He was right; the food was amazing. He didn't sit down with me. Instead, he pulled a crate over to the center of the kitchen and sat on it.

I watched the way his muscles moved under his tattoos. He looked so dangerous, yet there he was, cooking me breakfast and quietly working. After a few minutes, the silence started to feel heavy again. I felt restless. I had finished about half the plate when I decided I'd had enough.

I pushed the plate away and stood up. "Okay, I'm done. Thank you for the breakfast, Killian, but I really have to go now."

In a second, he was on his feet. He was across the kitchen before I could even take a step toward the door. He didn't look angry, but his eyes were dark and focused. He reached out, grabbed me by the waist, and lifted me off the floor as if I weighed nothing.

"Hey! Put me down!" I gasped.

He didn't say a word. He walked back to my chair and placed me firmly back in the seat. He leaned over me, his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping me.

"I said eat all of it," he growled. his face was inches from mine. "I don't like repeating myself, Elena. You're not leaving this chair until that plate is empty."

"You can't just keep me here," I said, my voice trembling. "This is kidnapping."

"Call it whatever you want," he said. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle compared to his voice. "But you're staying put. Now finish."

I looked at the plate, then back at him. I realized there was no point in fighting. He was too strong and too stubborn. I picked up the fork and finished every last bite while he went back to his crate and continued cleaning his gear.

When I was finally done, he stood up and walked over. He didn't take the plate. Instead, he grabbed a small first-aid kit from a cabinet.

"Come here," he said, sitting back down on the crate. He patted the floor between his legs. "Kneel."

My heart skipped a beat. "What? Why?"

"I need to look at your wound. How did you get it?."

I touched my neck, and realized it wasn't hidden well, I can't tell him that a strange man who is my professor gave me a bruising hickey, that is stupid.

"Well things happen, but I can do it myself," I protested.

"Elena," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous low warning. "Get over here."

I slowly walked over and knelt between his knees. My heart was racing. I felt so small compared to him. He reached out and gently pulled the collar of my sweater down, exposing the mark more.

I felt him go still as he looked at it.

"This is too deep," Killian muttered.

He opened a bottle of cool antiseptic. He dipped a cotton ball into it and started dabbing the mark. I flinched at the initial sting, but then a strange cooling sensation spread through my neck. The throbbing stopped.

His hands were huge and covered in scars, and his tattoos were intimidating, but he was being so careful with me. He was treating me like I was something fragile.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I whispered. "One minute you're carrying me over your shoulder like a caveman, and the next you're doing this."

Killian stopped dabbing my neck and looked me in the eyes. His gaze was intense. "I protect what's mine, Elena. Even if I have to protect you from yourself."

"I'm not yours," I argued, though my voice lacked conviction.

He didn't answer. He just finished cleaning the mark and put the kit away. He stood up and held out a hand to help me up.

"I need to go home," I said, looking at the large clock on the wall. "Please. I have to get my books for my evening study session."

Killian grumbled something under his breath, looking out the window at the sky. He looked like he wanted to say no, but then he sighed. "Fine. There will be a next time anyway. I'll take you back."

He led me back out to the bike. The ride back to my apartment was quieter than the ride to his place. I held onto him, my head resting against his back. As we pulled up to my building, I realized something that terrified me.

I felt safer in that clubhouse with a man I barely knew than I did in my own apartment. I felt like the world outside was full of people like Marcus who would use me, but inside there, there was a strange kind of honesty.

Killian stopped the bike and waited for me to get off. I handed him the helmet.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I said.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "Don't think this means you're free, little bird. I'll see you soon."

He revved the engine and sped off before I could even reply. I stood on the sidewalk, watching him disappear, wondering how my life had turned into this

I woke up with a start, the sunlight hitting my face much later than it was supposed to. I scrambled for my phone and groaned when I saw the time. I was late. Not just a little late, but "Professor Blackwood is going to kill me" late.

I didn't even have time to think about Killian or the weird feeling of his leather vest against my back. I threw on a high-necked sweater to hide the mark, grabbed my bag, and sprinted toward the law building. My lungs were burning by the time I reached the hallway outside the lecture hall.

"Elena! Wait up!"

I stopped, gasping for air, as Jax caught up to me. He looked cheerful, which was the last thing I needed right now.

"You missed the first twenty minutes," Jax whispered, leaning against the locker next to me. "Blackwood is in a mood today. He's already torn three people apart for not knowing the case law."

"Great," I muttered, trying to straighten my hair. "Just what I need."

Jax laughed and reached out, playfully nudging my shoulder. "Relax. You're his favorite student, even if he acts like a robot. Here, I took notes on the first part for you."

He held out his tablet, and I leaned in to look at the screen. Jax said something funny about the way one of the senior students had stuttered, and for a second, I actually forgot to be terrified. I let out a genuine laugh, my head tilting back.

In that moment, I felt a heavy, cold sensation on the back of my neck. It wasn't the mark. it was the feeling of being watched.

I looked toward the classroom door. It was cracked open just an inch. Through the gap, I saw a flash of silver spectacles and a pair of blue eyes so dark they looked like a storm at sea. Alaric was standing in the shadows of the doorway, watching me and Jax. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. He just watched until I stopped laughing.

"I have to go in," I whispered, my stomach doing a nervous flip.

"See you in there," Jax said, still smiling.

I walked into the room, keeping my head down. The silence was immediate. Alaric was already back at his podium, his hands gripped so tightly on the wood that his knuckles were white.

"Miss Vance," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a blade. "So nice of you to join us. I assume whatever was happening in the hallway was far more important than the foundations of criminal intent?"

"I'm sorry, Professor. I overslept."

"Sit down," he snapped.

For the next forty minutes, Alaric was a nightmare. He didn't just teach; he attacked. He called on me every five minutes. He asked me questions so complex that I had to stumble through the answers, and every time I hesitated, he would humiliate me in front of the class.

"Is the law a joke to you, Elena?" he asked, standing right in front of my desk. "You seem very interested in socializing, yet you can't even define a simple breach of duty today. Is your mind elsewhere? Perhaps on a motorcycle?"

My heart stopped. How did he know? I looked up at him, my eyes stinging with tears of frustration. "I'm trying, Professor."

"Try harder," he whispered, so low only I could hear. "Because right now, you are failing me. Stay after class. We are going to discuss your lack of focus."

When the bell rang, the other students scrambled out as fast as they could. Jax gave me a worried look, but Alaric cleared his throat sharply, and Jax hurried away. I stood by my desk, my hands shaking as I packed my bag.

Alaric walked to the door and turned the lock. The click sounded like a death sentence.

"Come to the front," he said.

I walked down to his desk. "I'm sorry I was late. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," he said. He walked around me, his presence heavy and suffocating. "I saw you out there. Laughing. Touching that boy. Do you think I marked you just so you could go out and play with children?"

"Jax is just a friend! And you told me you didn't even know me! You said you weren't at the bar!" I shouted, finally snapping.

Alaric moved so fast I didn't see it coming.

He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the far corner of the room, near the large windows that were now dark with the evening.

"Face the wall," he commanded.

"What? No!"

"Face the wall, Elena. Now."

His voice had a strange power to it, a vibration that made my muscles obey before my brain could protest. I turned and faced the corner, my forehead almost touching the cool plaster.

"Put your hands behind your back," he said, his voice right behind my ear.

I did it. I felt like a child, but I couldn't stop myself. I heard him pacing behind me, the steady thud of his expensive shoes on the floor.

"You will stand there and think about where you belong," Alaric said. "You will think about the fact that while you were laughing with that boy, you don't belong to him."

"You're crazy," I whispered to the wall.

"I am many things, Elena. Patient is not one of them."

He didn't touch me, but he stood so close that I could feel the heat of his body. He started talking, his voice a deep, commanding baritone that seemed to fill my entire head. He talked about discipline. He talked about how a girl like me needed a firm hand to keep her from ruining her future.

Every word he spoke felt like a physical touch. My skin began to tingle. A dull ache started in my lower belly, a deep, heavy longing that made me want to lean back into him. I hated it. I hated how much power his voice had over me.

"Do you understand why you are in this corner?" he asked.

"Because you're jealous," I choked out.

I heard him stop pacing. He moved in until he was pressed against my back, his chest solid against my shoulder blades. He reached around and gripped my chin, forcing me to look slightly to the side, though I was still facing the wall.

"I am not jealous of a boy like that," Alaric whispered. His breath was hot against my neck, right over the mark. "But I do not like people touching what is mine. You are a Blackwood girl now, Elena. Whether you want to be or not."

He let go of my chin and leaned down, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of my ear.

"If I ever see you look at another boy like that again," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly soft level, "the punishment won't be a corner. It will be your dignity. I will take it from you in front of everyone, and you will thank me for it."

He stepped back and I heard the lock click open.

"Go home. And don't be late tomorrow."

I didn't turn around. I kept my face to the wall until I heard his office door shut. When I finally moved, my legs were so weak I almost fell. I grabbed my bag and ran out into the cold night air, my mind screaming.

He was my professor. He was a monster. And as I walked home, all I could feel was the ghost of his voice making my blood sing

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the large black box that had been delivered to my dorm an hour ago. It was heavy, and the ribbon was real silk. I didn't have to guess who it was from. I pulled the small card out of the envelope and felt my heart skip a beat.

Wear this at seven, or I'll come put it on you myself. - Silas.

I scoffed, but my hands were shaking as I lifted the lid. Inside was a dress that looked like it cost more than my car. It was a deep emerald green with a high neckline-perfect for hiding the mark-and a back that dipped dangerously low. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"I shouldn't go," I whispered to the empty room. "I should just stay here and lock the door."

But I knew Silas. He wasn't like Alaric, who used school to trap me. Silas used his shadow and his money. If he said he would come here, he would. I couldn't risk him showing up at a girls' dorm in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

By seven o'clock, I was standing in front of the mirror. The dress fit like a second skin. I did my hair in a way that felt sophisticated, but I still felt like a fraud. I was just Elena, the girl with the cheating ex-boyfriend and a pile of student loans. I didn't belong in a dress like this.

A sleek black limousine was waiting downstairs. The driver didn't say a word; he just opened the door. Silas was sitting inside, looking like a king. He was wearing a tuxedo that was so perfect it made my breath hitch.

"You look breathtaking, Elena," he said, reaching out to take my hand as I sat down.

"I feel like I'm playing dress-up," I admitted.

"Nonsense. You were born for this," he murmured. He didn't let go of my hand. He kept his fingers interlaced with mine for the entire drive, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. It felt warm and safe, which only made me more confused.

The gala was held in a massive ballroom filled with crystal chandeliers and the sound of a live orchestra. Men in expensive suits and women dripping in diamonds were everywhere. As soon as we walked in, heads turned. Silas didn't seem to notice. He kept me tucked close to his side, his arm firmly around my waist.

"Just stay close to me," he whispered. "Most of these people are vultures."

For the first hour, he was the perfect date. He introduced me as his guest, laughed at people's jokes, and made sure I always had a glass of sparkling water or champagne in my hand. He was charming and polite.

But under the table during dinner, things were different. While he talked to a business partner about real estate, his hand moved to my thigh. It wasn't a quick touch. He gripped my leg firmly, his palm hot against my dress. He didn't move it once. Every time a man looked my way or tried to engage me in conversation, Silas's grip would tighten just a little bit, a silent reminder of who I was with.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked, turning to me with a bright, public smile. "You haven't eaten much."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding strained. My skin was tingling everywhere he touched me. "I think I just need a moment. The crowd is a bit much."

"Of course," he said, finally letting go of my leg. "I have to finish this conversation with Mr. Sterling. Why don't you go find the bar? I'll join you in ten minutes."

I stood up, feeling like I could finally breathe. I wandered over to the far side of the ballroom where the bar was tucked away in a quieter corner. I leaned against the counter, watching the dancers.

Why was I doing this? Why was I letting a man I barely knew buy me clothes and dictate my night? And why did I still feel Alaric's voice in my head, or the memory of Killian's rough hands? It felt like I had three different men breathing down my neck at all times, even when they weren't there.

"It's a beautiful party, isn't it?"

I turned to see a younger man standing next to me. He had a kind face and was wearing a suit that looked a bit too big for him. He looked like an intern or a junior staff member.

"It is," I said, glad for a normal conversation. "A bit overwhelming, though."

"I'm Leo," he said, sticking out a hand.

"I'm with the catering firm, but I'm off the clock now. You look like you're looking for a way out."

I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a hunch. Would you like to-"

Leo stopped mid-sentence. His eyes went wide, and his face turned pale. I didn't even have to turn around to know that Silas was standing behind me. The air in the corner suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

"Is there a problem here?" Silas's voice was smooth, but it had an edge like a razor.

"No! No problem," Leo stammered, backing away so fast he almost tripped. "I was just... I was just leaving. I didn't know she was with you. I'm so sorry."

Leo turned and fled into the crowd without looking back. I turned to Silas, feeling a flash of anger.

"He was just being friendly, Silas. You didn't have to scare him like that."

Silas didn't answer. He just looked at me, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, not roughly, but with a firm grip that told me he wasn't going to let go.

"We're leaving this conversation," he said.

He led me away from the bar and through a set of heavy double doors into a hallway lined with quiet offices and coat closets. He pushed open the door to a small, private cloakroom. He pulled me inside and shut the door, locking it with a quiet click.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my heart hammering.

Silas didn't say a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, silver silk tie. He stepped behind me, and before I could protest, he pulled my hands behind my back.

"Silas, stop," I whispered, though my body wasn't fighting him.

He tied around my wrists, knotting it loosely. It didn't hurt, but the feeling of being bound made my head spin. He turned me around to face him. I was trapped between his body and the racks of coats.

"I don't like other men talking to you, Elena," he said, his voice a low, dark hum. "I don't like the way they look at you. I want to see if you'll struggle. I want to see if you really want to leave."

He leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a slow kiss. It was a deep, hungry claim. With my hands tied behind me, I couldn't push him away, and I couldn't pull him closer. I was completely at his mercy.

I felt a wave of heat crash over me. I was dripping wet, my body reacting to the restraint in a way that terrified me. I wanted him to keep going, and I wanted to run away at the same time. I let out a soft moan against his lips, and he groaned, his hands roaming over the curves of the dress.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine. He looked at my bound wrists and then at my flushed face. "You're not struggling, Elena. Why aren't you struggling?"

"I don't know," I choked out. "Please. Just take me home. I can't be here."

Silas looked at me for a long moment, his eyes softening just a fraction. He reached behind me and untied the silk, letting it fall to the floor. He didn't say anything as he tucked it back into his pocket.

"Fine," he said. "I'll take you home."

The drive back was silent. Silas looked out the window, and I sat as far away as possible, staring at my hands. I felt like a monster. Was I a nympho? Was there something broken in my brain that made me enjoy being tied up by a man who treated me like a prize? I had spent years thinking I was a normal, boring girl, but now I didn't recognize myself at all.

As the car pulled up to my dorm, Silas leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Sleep well, Elena," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

I ran inside without looking back.