Xander wasn't a man prone to obsession.
He didn't chase women.
He didn't dream about them.
Until her.
Aurora.
It had been two days since she vanished again, leaving him aching, furious, and unsatisfied in ways he couldn't explain.
No name.
No trace.
Yet she haunted every corner of his mind.
Tonight, he stood at the edge of his private rooftop garden — the only place he ever felt untouchable.
The cool breeze whispered against his skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside him.
He had to find her.
He would find her.
As he turned to head back inside, he caught a flicker of movement from the shadows.
His entire body tensed, instincts on high alert.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the night.
"Well, well, Mr. Blackwood," came a sultry voice he could never mistake. "Still predictable after all."
She stepped into the moonlight.
Aurora.
Again.
Tonight, she wore a white dress — dangerously short, clinging to her like a second skin.
She looked like a fallen angel — untouchable and utterly corruptible.
Xander's hands curled into fists.
"You've got some nerve showing up here," he growled.
"And you," she purred, sauntering closer, "have been dreaming about me."
He hated how easily she saw through him.
Hated more how his body responded — tight, hard, ready.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
She stopped barely a breath away. The scent of her — wild jasmine and danger — wrapped around him, making it impossible to think.
"I wanted to see," she whispered, her fingers trailing lightly over his chest, "if you'd still crave me... after realizing you can't control me."
Her touch ignited him. Burned him.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her against him.
"You think you can play games with me?" he hissed.
Aurora laughed softly, arching her body against his.
"I know I can."
Xander crushed his mouth to hers — savage, claiming, desperate.
It wasn't a kiss; it was a battle.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, her nails raking down his chest, leaving angry red trails.
They stumbled backward, colliding with the stone wall.
Xander didn't care.
He tore the flimsy white dress down the front, baring her to the night air.
Aurora gasped but didn't resist — if anything, she pushed closer, her naked breasts pressing against his skin, her hands fumbling with his belt.
"Impatient," he rasped.
"You make me impatient," she said breathlessly.
He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. His cock pressed against her slick heat through his pants, and he nearly lost it.
But not yet.
Not yet.
He wanted her begging first.
He carried her across the rooftop and slammed her against one of the stone pillars.
The thrill of the cold stone against her back made her gasp again, and he swallowed the sound greedily.
Without preamble, he slid two fingers between her thighs.
She was soaked for him.
"God, you're filthy," he muttered.
"Only for you," she whimpered.
The admission snapped whatever control he had left.
He freed himself from his slacks, not bothering with finesse.
Aurora reached between them, guiding him to her entrance, her fingers teasing, taunting.
"Fuck me," she whispered, voice hoarse.
Xander needed no further invitation.
He thrust into her in one savage move.
She cried out — a sound of pure pleasure and pain — and he groaned against her throat.
He fucked her against the stone pillar, each brutal stroke sending shockwaves through both of them.
Aurora clung to him, moaning his name, digging her nails into his shoulders.
"You're mine," he growled.
"Yes," she gasped. "Yours."
He shifted his angle, slamming into that perfect spot inside her.
Aurora shattered in his arms with a scream, her body convulsing wildly around him.
Xander came seconds later, emptying himself deep inside her with a guttural roar.
They clung to each other, bodies trembling, hearts racing out of control.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the hum of the city below.
Finally, Xander lowered her to the ground, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her face.
"You're dangerous," he murmured.
"So are you," she whispered back, a strange sadness flickering in her eyes.
He caught it — that fleeting glimpse of something more.
Pain.
Guilt.
Before he could ask, she pulled away.
"I can't stay," she said softly.
"You don't get to walk away again," he said, grabbing her arm.
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening.
"I have to," she said. "Because next time, you might not forgive me."
Then she slipped from his grasp like smoke, disappearing into the shadows once more.
Leaving Xander standing there — harder, hungrier, and more confused than ever.
And more determined than ever to find out:
Who the hell was Aurora really?
Because whoever she was, he already knew one thing:
He wasn't letting her go.
Not again.