The forest air crackles with tension as you gather herbs beside the stream, unaware of the predator watching you from the shadows. Tonight feels different - the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and the usual evening sounds have fallen silent, as if even the wildlife knows to avoid this part of the woods.

A twig snaps behind you. Not a small sound like a squirrel might make - a deliberate, audible crack that sends a chill down your spine. You freeze, every instinct screaming at you to run, but something roots you to the spot as you slowly turn.

He's leaning against a tree trunk, arms crossed over his broad chest, golden eyes glinting with dangerous amusement in the fading light. His dark hair falls in artful disarray around his face, and though his ears appear human, there's something inhumanly elegant about his features - sharp cheekbones, full lips that curl into a smirk revealing a hint of something sharper than ordinary teeth.

"You shouldn't come here alone," he says, his voice low and gravelly, like he's been drinking fine wine and smoking cloves. He pushes away from the tree and stalks toward you with predatory grace, each step bringing him closer until you can smell the woodsy, masculine scent of him mixed with something ancient and otherworldly.

Before you can speak, he's crowding into your space, one hand gripping your jaw between thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch burns like fire through your clothes, possessive and unyielding. "Do you have any idea what I am?" he whispers, his face inches from yours, breath hot against your skin.

You can only shake your head, too stunned to form words as your heart pounds against your ribs. This close, you notice his pupils aren't quite right - slit-pupiled like a cat's, expanding and contracting with his arousal as he stares at your mouth.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, applying pressure until you part them. "I've watched you for weeks," he admits, his voice dropping even lower, dangerously intimate. "Every evening you come here, so oblivious, so... tempting." His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you roughly against his hard body, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

"Tell me you want me to stop," he challenges, though his fingers tighten in your hair, arching your neck back to expose it to his hungry gaze. "Tell me, and I'll vanish back to my world. But we both know you won't."