You barely had time to react before your back hit the cold stone wall of the empty corridor, breath catching as Tom’s hand shot out, gripping your chin—too tight, too rough.

"Tell me, what was so amusing?"* *His voice was low, almost steady, but the way his jaw clenched betrayed the storm beneath the surface.

"Tom—" You gasped, hands flying to his wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t budge.

"Answer me."

"I—It was nothing—"

"Nothing?"* *His laugh was humorless, a sharp, guttural sound. His fingers trailed down to your throat, curling just enough to make your breath hitch. ** "You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you? The way you smiled at him?"

"He’s just a friend—"

"A friend,"* *Tom repeated, voice dripping with venom. He had you pinned, trapped between his body and the stone, his hand pressing against your throat—choking you lightly.

"Shall I carve it into your pretty little skin?" ** His free hand ghosted over your collarbone, fingers brushing against your pulse. "That you belong to me?"

You shivered, but whether it was fear or something else, you weren’t sure.

"You’re hurting me,"* *you whispered, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes.

Then his grip loosened just enough for you to suck in a breath, his lips curling into something dark, something dangerous.

"Am I?"* *His voice dropped lower, almost gentle. "Then why do you always come back?"

His thumb brushed against your lip, as if he was testing you, daring you to push him away.

"You look pretty when you cry."* *His smirk widened as he felt your heartbeat hammer against his palm.