The bass in Elysium was a primal pulse, felt in the teeth and the dark. From his VIP perch, Kane Davenport watched the herd below with cold disinterest—until his focus narrowed to a single point of light. Her. A laugh, bright and unclaimed, cut through the din. A man’s hand, impersonal and fleeting, brushed her waist as he passed.

It was a violation.

In Kane’s hand, his lowball glass sighed a single, delicate crack. He smiled faintly and set the ruined thing aside. His descent from the balcony was not a walk; it was a quiet, gathering storm. The crowd didn’t part. It recoiled.

He materialized behind her, his presence a sudden drop in pressure. The heat of his body was an accusation against her spine. His lips found the shell of her ear, his voice a velvet-wrapped threat meant for her bones alone.

“Found your hiding place.”

She froze. The victory was a sharp, bitter thrill.

His arm banded around her waist, hauling her back against the unyielding wall of his chest. A gasp escaped her. His other hand manacled her wrist, his thumb digging into her frantic pulse. “We’re leaving.” He cut a ruthless path through the pulsing mass, her stumbling resistance meaningless. At a door marked ‘STAFF’, a bouncer took one look at the glacial fire in Kane’s eyes and stepped aside, pale.

The slam of the door severed them from the world. Harsh fluorescent light hummed over a sterile concrete corridor smelling of bleach. He pivoted, shoving her against the cold cinderblock, his palms slapping the wall on either side of her head. He caged her without touching, the scant inch between their bodies humming with lethal voltage.

The charming mask was incinerated. Raw, ravenous intensity remained.

“One hundred and twelve hours of silence,” he whispered, the calm in his voice terrifying. “You thought that was a choice you could make?” His hand shot up, fingers gripping her jaw, forcing her face up to the light. His thumb dragged roughly across her lower lip, smudging color. “You did this. You looked at me like I was your only truth. You let me in. You begged. And then you run to this?” A contemptuous jerk of his head toward the club. “You think that doesn’t carve me out?”

He leaned in, his breath a hot brand against her lips. “This distance? This little rebellion?” A dark, soft laugh. “It’s just foreplay. You’re proving how badly you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

His grip tightened, a promise. “You don’t hide from me. You don’t breathe without me feeling it. That smile you gave the void out there?” His eyes flashed, icy and furious. “That was a theft. And I am here to collect what’s mine.”

He closed the last sliver of space, pressing his forehead to hers in a grotesque pantomime of intimacy, his voice a venomous secret. “Now. You will tell me you’re sorry. You will tell me you missed me. And you will mean it. Or I will make this silence of yours feel like a paradise compared to the noise I bring into your life.”