—You're four minutes late, Elena. I don't pay you to waste my time.

Silas didn't look up. He sat behind his desk like a stone statue; his voice cut through the silence of the fiftieth floor like a knife.

"The elevator's stuck, Silas. Get over it," I replied sharply.

My lungs were burning. My heels were killing me. I walked straight to the edge of his desk and leaned over. I wanted him to see my rage, but all I could smell was him: a mixture of rain and expensive smoky wood. It weakened my knees.

"The Mercer report," I hissed, slamming the folder on the table, right between us.

We were inches apart. I saw his jaw tense. I saw his eyes darken as they followed the movement of my lips. The air between us felt like it was about to burst into flames.

"Page forty-seven," I whispered. "The mistake you've been yelling about for six hours. It's fixed. Now, can I go, or do you need me to breathe for you too?"

Silas finally looked up. He looked hungry.

"I don't care about the report, Elena," he rasped. His voice was a low growl that vibrated in my chest.

He stood up slowly, circling me, trapping me against the hard edge of the desk.

—I care that you're here, smelling of vanilla and defiant, thinking you can talk to me like that.

"What are you going to do?" I challenged him. "Fire?"

"Saying goodbye would be too easy," he murmured, lowering his gaze to my lips.

I reached for the folder to back away, but the edge of the paper caught my thumb. A clean, sharp cut. A drop of blood fell onto the white page.

Silas remained deathly still. His nostrils flared. His eyes changed: the gray disappeared, transforming into a molten, predatory gold.

-Mine.

Before I could move, his hand shot out. His fingers were like iron bands around my wrist, pulling me down until I was pressed against his chest. I could feel his heart pounding, not like a human's, but like a war drum.

"Silas, let me go," I gasped. My pulse raced as his heat seeped into my skin.

"Never," he growled.

Without looking, he reached for the console on his desk. Click. The heavy office doors locked. Click. The blinds slammed shut.

"The office is closed, Elena," he whispered against my neck, his teeth brushing against my skin. "And you're exactly where you belong."

I didn't move. I couldn't. The sound of those bolts was the finality of a cage closing.

"Silas, you're scaring me," I whispered, though my body told a different story.

Where our skin touched, I felt electric sparks. The cold, professional distance we'd maintained for a year hadn't just vanished; it'd been incinerated. His hand moved from my wrist to the base of my back, pressing me so hard against his thighs that I could feel the intensity of his desire.

"Good," he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel and silk. "You should be afraid. I've spent twelve months fighting the urge to do this."

He leaned in, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He didn't kiss me. He inhaled deeply, a ragged sound that made my toes curl inside my shoes.

"You smell like a storm," he growled against my skin. "And like blood. My blood."

"I'm not yours, Silas. I'm your secretary. This is a potential lawsuit," I said, my voice trembling as my fingers instinctively tangled in the lapels of his suit.

She stepped back just enough to look me in the eyes. The gold in her pupils swirled like a storm.

—I'll buy the court. I'll buy the laws. Do you think I care about a contract when my wolf is screaming that you're the only thing stopping me from tearing this city apart?

"Your wolf?" I let out a frantic, broken laugh. "You finally lost your mind. The stress broke you."

—Look me in the eyes, Elena. Tell me what you see.

I looked. It wasn't a trick of the light. The gold gleamed with an ancient, predatory light that made the hair on my arms stand on end. His grip on my waist tightened; his large palm spread across my lower back, forcing me to feel the raw power that vibrated through him.

“I am the Alpha of the Silver Moon,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine. “And for a year, I’ve watched other men look at you. I saw you smile at the messenger and thank the janitor, while you gave me nothing but cold reports and silence.”

"Because you're my boss!" I yelled, frustration finally boiling over. "You were the Ice King! You didn't even know my name for the first six months!"

"I knew your name before you signed the Human Resources papers," he growled.

He didn't wait another word. He smashed his mouth against mine.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a demand. It tasted of coffee, of rain, and of a year of suppressed hunger. I should have pushed him away. I should have fought back. But the moment his tongue touched my lips, my brain shut down. A surge of incandescent energy coursed through my spine, a physical recognition that made me moan against his mouth.

My hands moved from his lapels to his hair, tangling my fingers in the thick, dark strands as I pulled him closer. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to get under his skin.

He grunted, the sound vibrating in my throat as I rose from the floor and sat on the mahogany desk. My skirt rode up, my bare thighs touching the cold wood, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the warmth of his hands sliding up my legs.

"Tell me to stop," she gasped, pulling back just an inch, her lips swollen and wet. "Tell me you want me to let you out of this room and I will. I'll die trying, but I'll let you go."

I looked at the closed door and then at the golden-eyed man who seemed willing to burn the whole world down to keep me.

"Don't you dare stop, Silas," I whispered.

He didn't. With a swift motion, he swept the Mercer report and the missing million onto the floor, clearing the desk for us. As the papers fluttered like dying birds, he pulled me back into his warmth.

The office was locked. The lights were dimmed. And the Ice King was finally melting.