Chapter 6

Zahra's POV

I freeze, I catch a familiar scent, and frown. Eli?

I cross the room quickly and crack the door. “What are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed down this corridor.”

He smirks, lazy and cocky. “Then hurry up and let me in.”

Against my better judgment, I step back. He slips inside like he owns the place, and the door clicks shut behind him.

“Eli, I don’t want to get in trouble at the end of term,” I say, my voice low. “What if they stop our leave? What if we lose privileges?” He hasn’t cared about consequences for months. Not mine, anyway. If I get caught it’s my problem, my punishment. His record stays clean.

He waves a hand like I’m a child worrying over nothing, smirk still plastered across his face. “Relax, babe. People sneak around all the time. No one ever gets caught. Besides”—he steps closer, his voice dropping into that tone that crawls across my skin like cold fingers.

“I came to give you something. You’re mine, Zahra. You know that, right?” he says the last part in a low, cold tone. He hasn’t said that before. Not like that. For the first time, it makes me feel possessed instead of cherished... My breath stutters.

“Something? What do you mean?”

His eyes darken, the smile twisting into something sharper. He reaches out, brushing his fingers against my arm. Zanthe snarls in the back of my head, hackles bristling.

“I’m going to miss you, babe,” he murmurs. “Thought we could have some fun on your last night before you leave. So, I’ve got something to remember you by… and you’ve got something to think about while you’re gone. Don’t want you forgetting about me.”

My stomach knots. He’s been pushing this for a year—testing boundaries, edging closer every time. At first, he went slow because I was younger, but since my birthday in the spring, it’s been relentless. He wants more. Always more. And every time, it feels wrong. I know I have mates out there—four of them. He has one too. Fooling around is one thing, but giving him what he’s hinting at? That isn’t supposed to be his.

So far, he’s respected my line. Respected it with sulking, cold shoulders, and weeks of punishment in the form of silence.

“Don’t forget about me,” he says again, and the sweetness is gone now. His face twists ugly. His grip clamps on my arm, hard enough to make me wince.

Zanthe growls low in my mind, a sound of warning, sharp teeth and raised hackles.

“I’d hate to think you’d get distracted by Anderson or Henry while I’m gone,” Eli says, his tone clipped, possessive. “I see the way they look at you. Always hanging around, always watching. You’re the golden girl, yeah? Everyone wants a piece. But don’t you forget who’s been there for you when no one else was.”

The words sting, like he’s slapping me with them. Guilt hooks sharp in my chest even though I know I shouldn’t feel it. I nod quickly, trying to smooth the air, to keep the tension from snapping into something worse. “I won’t forget, Eli. I promise.”

His grip loosens. The smirk slides back into place, but I can still see the danger behind his eyes. He steps closer, pressing against me until his heat smothers mine. His hand drags down to my waist, his fingers digging into my hip hard enough to bruise.

“Good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Because I’ve been thinking a lot about you… about us.”

My throat tightens. I swallow hard. “Us?”

“You’ve been so wrapped up in your degree and your training, you’ve barely had time for me these past few weeks.”

There it is. The bitterness I’ve been dreading. The jealousy that always bubbles just beneath the surface. I try to shift back, but his fingers dig into my hips, pinning me where he wants me.

“That’s not fair,” I say, my voice trembling. “You know how hard I’ve been working to graduate. Everyone here trains hard—it’s Night Howlers. You’ve been doing the same with your task force application. You told me you understood. You know how important this is for me. For us both.”

“Important to you,” he snaps. “And what about me? What about us? You’re about to abandon me all summer, Zahra. Like I don’t matter.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper, but the words taste like ash even as they leave my mouth. His hands slide higher, thumbs brushing under the curve of my breasts. I shiver, but not from pleasure.

“You owe me,” he growls, low and dark. “Before you run off to play student tomorrow, you owe me something.

My breath catches as his lips graze my neck. My whole body tenses. I want to push him away, to tell him no, but there’s weight in his touch, a command threaded through it. I already know how this will go. If I resist, he’ll push harder. He always does.

‘Knee him in the balls,’ Zanthe snarls, feral and furious.

“What do you want?” The words scrape out of me, barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his gaze dark and flat. “You know what I want.” His hand slides lower, cupping me through my pants.

I gasp. He has never been this direct before. Never gone this far. Until now, he’s stopped at the line I drew, sulked about it, punished me with silence. But he respected it. Or at least pretended to. His fingers press against me through the fabric, too hard, too insistent. It’s uncomfortable. Almost painful. My chest tightens, my stomach twists. I want to shove him away, but I know if I fight, he’ll only get worse. So, I endure it.

“Eli…” My voice comes out pleading. I make it soft, desperate, because I know that’s what he likes—me small, me submissive.

“Shh,” he breathes against my mouth. “Let me take care of you.”

Then he kisses me. Hard and demanding. His tongue pushes into my mouth, rough and claiming, while his hand works between my legs like he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. It feels wrong. Awkward. Nothing like the sparks people write about in the romance novels I’ve read. Zanthe paces in my head, roaring with rage, trying to claw through, but I hold her back. If I let her out, this ends bloody.