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.

I stayed in the library until the very last second before closing. My phone had been buzzing in my pocket for hours, but I refused to look at it. I knew what was waiting for me. Missed calls from Silas. Texts from Killian.

I just wanted to be a student again. I had a huge midterm in Constitutional Law coming up, and my brain was already leaking information. I needed peace. I needed to not be "property" or a "little bird" or a "captivating guest" for just one night.

But as I stepped out of the library doors, the sky decided to join in on my misery.

The clouds were black, and it was raining cats and dogs out here. Within seconds, my thin sweater was soaked through, clinging to my skin. I pulled my bag over my head, trying to protect my textbooks, and started the long walk toward my dorm.

"Elena! Get in the car!"

The familiar hum of a car, I've gotten used to sounded through the downpour. Silas's silver sports car pulled up to the curb, the window rolling down just enough for me to see his frustrated expression.

"Silas? What are you doing here? I told you I was busy," I shouted over the thunder.

"You weren't answering your phone. You're going to get sick. Get in," he commanded, his voice tight.

Before I could even answer, a deafening roar drowned out the rain. A black motorcycle swerved around the front of Silas's car, splashing a wave of dirty puddle water against his pristine silver paint. Killian kicked the kickstand down and hopped off, his leather vest already glistening with water.

"She's coming with me," Killian growled, stepping toward me.

Silas opened his car door and stepped out, ignoring the rain that immediately ruined his expensive hair. The two men stood on the sidewalk, glaring at each other. The tension was so thick I could almost taste it. They looked like two predators fighting over the last bit of prey on the plains.

"She's shivering, you idiot," Silas snapped at Killian. "She needs a heater and a dry seat, not a death trap on two wheels."

"She needs to get out of the open," Killian countered, his jaw set. "My place is closer."

I stood between them, water dripping off my nose, feeling more like an object than a human being. They weren't even looking at me; they were measuring each other.

"Stop it!" I yelled, stepping back. "Both of you. I'm not a prize. I'm not a trophy. I'm a person who is trying to go home and study."

"Elena, don't be stubborn," Silas said, stepping toward me with his hand reached out.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not picking. I'm walking. I'd rather be wet and alone than trapped in a car or on a bike with either of you right now."

I turned and started walking. I didn't look back, even though I could hear them arguing behind me. I walked for ten minutes, my shoes squelching with every step. My teeth started to chatter, and my fingers went numb. Maybe picking a ride would have been smarter, but I was too angry to care.

I was crossing the edge of the campus woods, a shortcut to the dorms, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

"I told you I was out of patience, Elena."

It was Killian. He didn't give me a choice this time. He lifted me up and carried me off the path, heading deep into the trees.

"Put me down! Killian, I'm serious!"

"Shut up," he grumbled. "You're turning blue."

He didn't take me to his bike. He carried me to a small, secluded wooden shed tucked away behind the old maintenance building. He kicked the door open and set me down on a pile of dry moving blankets. The shed was small and smelled of cedar and old tools, but it was dry.

"Take those off," he said, pointing to my soaked sweater and jeans.

"What? No!"

"I'm not asking, Elena. You're shaking like a leaf. If you stay in those wet clothes, you're going to get pneumonia. Turn around if you have to, but get them off. Now."

He turned his back to me and started rummaging through a chest, pulling out a thick, oversized shirt. I hesitated, but he was right. I was freezing. I peeled off my wet clothes, my skin pebbled with goosebumps, and threw on the flannel shirt.

It reached mid-thigh on me and smelled exactly like him-smoke and spice.

"Done," I whispered.

Killian turned around. He had stripped off his own  vest and shirt, leaving him in just his heavy work pants. His chest was massive, covered in lots of tattoos that looked so beautiful in the dim light. He sat down on the blankets and pulled me toward him.

"What are you doing?"

"Body heat," he said simply. He pulled me back so I was sitting between his legs, my back pressed against his bare chest. He wrapped a dry wool blanket around both of us, tucking it in tight.

"I should be studying," I muttered, though I was starting to stop shivering. His heat was like a furnace.

"You should be resting," he replied.

We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the rain hammer against the tin roof of the shed. It was a rhythmic, soothing sound. I felt his arms wrap around my middle, pulling me closer until there wasn't a single inch of space between us.

His hands began to move, rubbing my arms and thighs to get my blood flowing. But the movement didn't stop for long. His touch became slower, heavier. He began to grind his chest against my back, his breath hot against my neck.

"Killian..." I breathed.

"Don't," he groaned. "Just let me hold you."

He started to shift, his lower body pressing firmly against me. It wasn't sex, but it was intimate. We were both fully clothed from the waist down, but the friction was enough to make my head swim. He moved with a slow, agonizing rhythm, his hands roaming over my stomach and up toward my ribs.

I felt a wave of that "wrong" pleasure hit me again. I was exhausted, stressed about my test, and yet I was leaning back into a man who had practically kidnapped me from the rain. I felt like a mess.

"You're so warm now," he whispered, his lips grazing the mark on my neck.

I didn't pull away. I let my head fall back against his shoulder. The fear and the anger were being washed away by a heavy, sleepy fog. His scent was filling my nose, and for some reason, it made my heart ache.

I closed my eyes, the sound of the rain turning into a lullaby. As I started to drift off, I inhaled deeply against his skin. My brows furrowed in my sleep. He smelled like woodsmoke, yes. But underneath that, there was something else. A scent of sandalwood and rain.

It was the exact same smell as Professor Blackwood.

I wanted to ask him about it, but sleep pulled me under before I could find the words. I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, locked in the arms of the man I was supposed to be running from.