Chapter 6

TATE

“YOU’RE BACK,” I muttered, not bothering to look up.

The door clicked shut behind him, same way it had the last time, but this time… the air felt tighter. Off.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I added, dragging my sleeve across my mouth and shifting back on the bed. “Unless you’re here to get me out, don’t bother pretending you give a shit.”

Eli didn’t answer.

His footsteps padded across the floor, slower than usual, less cocky, more… deliberate. I looked up.

He stood a few feet away, lips parted, sweat shining at his temple. His pupils were blown, too wide for the light and he kept licking his bottom lip like it was dry, like he couldn’t stop tasting something only he could feel.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the usual grin. It was lazy. Glazed. Feral, in a way that sent a cold slither down my spine.

“I missed you,” Eli said. His voice was too soft. Too smooth. “You didn’t miss me?”

“No.” My answer came sharp, cutting through the air. “I didn’t.”

I stood. Slowly. He didn’t move.

His eyes raked over me like he was seeing something else—someone else. I crossed my arms, jaw tight.

“If this is some dumbass ploy to seduce me again, go flirt with a wall. I’m not interested.”

That scent hit me then.

Thick. Sweet. Sharp on the inhale, cloying on the exhale. Like candy dipped in some chemical. It didn’t belong in this room. It didn’t belong on him. And worse—it stuck to my tongue.

“What the fuck is that smell?” I asked, more to myself.

Eli tilted his head, eyes heavy. “You like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

But my skin was hot. Not flushed—hot. Like something in that scent was crawling under it, messing with me from the inside out. And that was when I realized—

I was backing up.

“Eli.”

He moved closer.

I lifted a hand. “Don’t.”

“I just want to feel you.”

“No,” I snapped. “You don’t. You want to play whatever the fuck this is, but I’m not playing with you. I told you—if you want to help me, get me the hell out of here.”

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Then leave.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he closed the space between us in three fast steps, grabbing my wrist. His hand was burning. Too hot. My breath caught, and instinct made me jerk back, but he was stronger than he looked.

His eyes were glassy now. Desperate.

“I think about you all the time,” he said, voice cracking. “Even when I don’t want to. Even when I try to stop. I feel like I’m burning—”

“Let go of me.”

He didn’t.

I shoved his chest. He didn’t move. What the fuck? He was slim, soft-looking, not built for a fight, and yet, he held firm like he was nailed to the floor.

“Eli, I’m not fucking around,” I said, low as my stomach churned.

“You smell good too,” he murmured. “Like you’re made for me.”

That’s when fear slammed into my gut. Not panic. Fear.

Because I knew what came next.

He leaned in, and I moved to shove him again, but he was already there, fingers trailing down my chest, mouth open, breath hot against my neck. I turned my head, resisting the urge to punch him in the face.

“Get. Off,” I hissed, yanking my arm.

Still nothing.

I pushed again, harder. “I said stop!”

He growled. Actually growled—a low, wet sound that vibrated against my jaw, and everything in me froze. Not from fear. From confusion.

From whatever the hell that smell was doing to me. My limbs felt heavy. Not weak, just... sluggish. Like I’d downed two shots of something I didn’t remember drinking.

I shoved him hard enough this time to break contact. Eli stumbled back, dazed, lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’d just run five miles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shouted. “You think you can just walk in here and—what? Touch me like that? Drug me? What the hell is going on with you?!”

He blinked, like he couldn’t hear me.

Then his eyes snapped up. “Don’t scream,” he said, and his voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was deep. Off. Like it didn’t belong in his throat.

I backed toward the corner of the room, the chain dragging with me, cold and heavy around my ankle. My hand hit the wall.

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

He took one step forward.

Then another.

My heart slammed once—twice—and I bolted for the chair by the door, grabbing it like a weapon. The chain yanked at my leg, stopping me from getting more than a few steps.

Eli stopped, swaying on his feet like he didn’t know where he was. His eyes flicked down. Something shifted. They looked… off. Slitted, maybe. But then he blinked, and they were back to normal. Or maybe I was seeing shit.

He looked confused. Hurt. But not ashamed.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice dropping.

Then came the part that made something deep in my chest go cold.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I froze.

Eli stepped closer. “You’re on my mind when I’m awake. When I sleep. I—fuck—I hear your voice when you’re not talking. I smell you when you’re not even here.” His voice cracked, raw and shaking. “It won’t stop.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down, then back up to mine. “Maybe if you fuck me... maybe then it’ll stop.”

I didn’t say a word. Didn’t move.

My muscles locked, bracing.

Because I knew.

I fucking knew—

He lunged.

The chair clattered to the floor as I twisted, but the chain caught, slowing me just enough. His weight slammed into me, knocking me back onto the bed. In seconds, he was on top of me, breath ragged, trembling like a live wire.

“Get off me!” I shouted, struggling hard. I thrashed under him, yanking at my arms, but he pinned my wrists into the sheets.

“I just want it once,” he whispered. “Just once. Please.”

No.

No, no, no.

His eyes were wild. His skin burning hot. The scent hit me like a wave—sweet, cloying, thick like syrup. It wrapped around my head, messed with my focus. Like a drug I didn’t want to breathe in.

I jerked, kicked, cursed, but he was too strong. His fingers slipped under my shirt, shaky and desperate. His body trembled above mine.

“I think it’ll stop if I just have you once,” he muttered, leaning in like he was drunk on something I couldn’t see. “If I taste you. Just once, Tate. Please—I need it—”

“No you fucking don’t,” I snapped. “You’re sick. Get the fuck off me!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even hear me.

His fingers gripped my waist, holding me down. His scent flooded my nose again, and I turned my head, biting hard into the inside of my cheek to keep from panicking. I wasn’t gonna scream. I wasn’t gonna give him that.

But my chest was rising fast. My skin burning. My body—

God, it wasn’t listening.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Eli whispered, his lips near my throat. “I just want it to stop. I want you so bad I can’t fucking breathe—”

The door creaked open.

Eli froze.

So did I.

And then I twisted hard finally breaking free from his grip. I rolled, panting, the chain biting into my ankle as I scrambled back.

And there, in the doorway, stood Enzo.

Black shirt. Cold eyes. One hand braced against the frame like he’d been there long enough to see everything.

And his stare was murder.