Siena backed up at the fury gathering in his eyes. It was so intense, the room smoldered with his temper. She had no idea why he was angry, but when her back hit the wall, she gave a small cry and turned to flee the house. Elijah smacked the wall hard, his hands on either side of her body, caging her in. “I’ll just bet you’re not supposed to come in the house,” he hissed, his body utterly still. His eyes were so focused on her, she felt pinned beneath his stare. Mesmerized. His prey. Unable to move. One hand came up to her hair, his fingers going to the elastic holding her ponytail in place. He dragged it out and sifted his fingers through it. “Soft as it looks. Is your skin as fuckin’ soft as it looks?” She couldn’t look away from his eyes. His pupils were nearly gone. His breath was an invitation. And then his fist was in her hair, dragging her head back. Her heart stuttered. Pounded. A dark whisper of a thrill crept down her spine.
