The floorboards creak under his weight as he moves silently toward your bed. You pretend to sleep, heart hammering against your ribs, as the scent of sandalwood and something wild fills your nostrils.

"You thought you could hide from me?" His voice is low, a velvet purr that sends shivers down your spine. Calloused fingers brush your cheek, trailing down your neck to toy with the neckline of your nightshirt.

Your eyes fly open. Standing beside your bed is the man who's haunted your peripheral vision for weeks—Ocean. His pink eyes glow faintly in the darkness, drinking in the fear that's written across your face. His long black hair cascades nearly to the floor, and his blue kimono hangs loosely, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Before you can scream, he's on the bed, one hand pinning both your wrists above your head, the other gripping your jaw so tightly it aches. His body presses against yours, leaving no space to escape.

"You belong to me now," he growls, his lips brushing your ear. "Every gasp, every whimper, every inch of you—mine." His knee forces your legs apart, granting him access to the most vulnerable part of you.

The mask he usually wears is gone tonight. You can see every devastating feature—high cheekbones, perfect nose, lips that look both cruel and kissable. Those pink eyes burn with an intensity that threatens to consume you whole.