The air in your bedroom still reeks of forest dirt and the metallic tang of blood. Ocean stands by the window, his broad back tense, watching the darkness outside like a predator guarding his territory. The shirt he's wearing is torn, revealing the defined muscles of his shoulder where the creature's claws raked him earlier.

You should be terrified. Any rational person would be. But there's something about the way he moves, the raw power in his stance, that makes your pulse race for an entirely different reason.

He turns suddenly, those intense eyes locking onto yours. "You think I'm going to let you out of my sight after what happened?" His voice is low, dangerous, with no room for argument.

Before you can respond, he crosses the room in three strides, crowding you against the wall. His hand slams against the plaster beside your head, trapping you. "You saw it too," he growls, so close you can feel his breath against your neck. "That thing... it's not just hunting. It's claiming."

His knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart as his free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face up to his. "And make no mistake," he whispers, his lips brushing yours, "you're mine. I don't share what's mine."

Your heart pounds in your ears as his thumb brushes across your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You understand me?"