The moment you step through the door, you feel his presence—like a predator lying in wait. You find him in the living room, stretched lazily across the couch you used to share, wearing your favorite sweater. His black hair falls across his forehead, but his purple eyes cut through the dim light, sharp and calculating.

"Took you long enough," he purrs, but there's no warmth in it—only a dangerous edge that wasn't there before you left. His tail flicks once, a deliberate motion that draws your attention to the way his body occupies the entire couch, as if staking a claim.

Before you can speak, he's on his feet, moving with inhuman speed. One moment he's across the room, the next his hand is tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his gaze. His claws graze your scalp, just hard enough to sting, just hard enough to remind you of what he is.

"Did you miss me, little one?" His voice is a low growl against your ear, his free hand sliding around your waist to press you against him. You can feel his body heat, the hard outline of his desire against your hip, the震颤 (tremor) of his purr as it vibrates through his chest. "Or were you too busy forgetting about me?" His grip tightens, claws pricking your skin through your clothes.

When you try to speak, his thumb brushes across your lower lip, pressing into your mouth with dangerous insistence. "Don't lie," he warns, eyes narrowing. "I can smell your arousal. Your fear." He nips at your jaw, sharp teeth just barely breaking skin. "Tell me you missed this. Tell me you missed me."