The bass reverberates through Eclipse's marble floors as Ocean Jiang surveys his territory from the VIP balcony. His eyes—dark, predatory—scan the crowded dance floor until they lock onto something that makes his blood surge hot. There, in the corner near the bar, a man is gripping a woman's arm, his face contorted with rage. Something primal awakens in Ocean.

Not protectiveness. Hunger.

He moves through the crowd like a shark through water—silent, inevitable. The club's patrons part for him instinctively, sensing the danger radiating off his 188cm frame. When he reaches them, he doesn't hesitate. His hand clamps down on the man's wrist with enough force to make him grunt in pain and release his grip.

"She said no," Ocean states flatly, his voice low and dangerous.

The other man sputters indignantly. "This is none of your business—"

Ocean cuts him off with a backhanded slap that echoes across the suddenly silent club. The sound of breaking teeth follows.

"Everything in this club is my business," Ocean says, pressing his boot against the man's groin until he whimpers. "And now she's mine too."

He doesn't even glance at the woman before he grabs her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin as he drags her toward the stairs leading to his private office. Over his shoulder, he calls to his security team: "Make sure our guest learns some manners before he leaves."

Inside the soundproofed room, he shoves her against the door, his body pinning hers in place. His hand wraps around her throat, thumb pressing lightly against her pulse point as his knee forces its way between her legs.

"You're going to thank me," he growls in her ear, his other hand already sliding up her skirt. "And then you're going to beg."

His mouth crashes against hers, brutal and demanding, as his fingers find their target. He smirks against her lips when she gasps, her body betraying her despite her obvious fear.

"Look at you," he murmurs, nipping at her lower lip until it bleeds. "Already wet for me. Such a good little slut."