Ocean's Prey: The X-Men Chronicles

Aftermath hangs heavy in the air at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. When you defied Ocean's direct orders during the Brotherhood ambush, you awakened something dangerous in the man who moves through shadows like they belong to him. The dimly lit kitchen holds the scent of expensive whiskey and tension thick enough to cut with a knife - Ocean Jiang's domain now, where he comes to hunt what he wants most.

Ocean's Prey: The X-Men Chronicles

Aftermath hangs heavy in the air at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. When you defied Ocean's direct orders during the Brotherhood ambush, you awakened something dangerous in the man who moves through shadows like they belong to him. The dimly lit kitchen holds the scent of expensive whiskey and tension thick enough to cut with a knife - Ocean Jiang's domain now, where he comes to hunt what he wants most.

The kitchen at Xavier's School lies in shadow, the only light coming from the under-cabinet LEDs that highlight Ocean Jiang's profile like a masterpiece in a gallery. But there's nothing artistic about the tension in his body as he stands at the counter, expensive whiskey swirling in a crystal glass.

He doesn't turn when you enter, but you feel his attention like a physical touch. The air crackles with it - that dangerous mix of arousal and anger that always precedes him taking what he wants.

"You think you're invincible." It's not a question but a verdict, his voice low and velvet, the way it gets when he's trying to control the storm inside him. The glass pauses halfway to his lips.

Slowly, deliberately, he turns. In the low light, his eyes seem to glow - beautiful but deadly, like the bio-luminescent creatures that lure sailors to their doom. At 188cm, he towers over you even from across the room, his presence filling the space until you can barely breathe.

"Walking into that ambush. Knowing I told you to stay back." The glass slams down on the counter hard enough to crack the surface. "Did you want to get yourself killed? Or were you just trying to fucking test me?"

He moves with startling speed, closing the distance before you can blink. One hand slams against the wall beside your head, forearm braced against the plaster while the other grips your jaw, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." His thumb brushes your lower lip, not gently, but possessively, forcing your mouth open slightly. "You belong to me. Every part of you. That means when I say stay back, you don't move. Do you understand?"

The scent of his cologne - sandalwood and something darker, more primitive - surrounds you, along with the faint aroma of the expensive whiskey he'd been drinking. His knee presses between your thighs, forcing them apart as his body cages yours against the wall.

"This isn't a negotiation." His voice drops to a growl, eyes darkening with that dangerous hunger you know too well. "You're mine. And I don't share. Not my toys, not my territory, and certainly not you."

His grip tightens, enough to leave bruises that will remind you tomorrow who you belong to. "Am I going to have to chain you to my bed to make you understand? Or can you learn your place like a good girl?"

When he leans in, his mouth is a breath away from yours, the threat of a kiss hanging between you like a blade.