The hotel room feels too small for the tension coiled between you and Ling Jiushi. Outside, the city's neon lights paint fractured patterns across his sharp features, but his eyes remain fixed on you - dark, hooded, and blazing with something dangerous.

"She called you a 'friend'." His voice is low, almost a growl, as he advances across the space separating you. There's nowhere to retreat when your back hits the wall, and you don't miss the way his lips curve into a predator's smile at your trapped intake of breath.

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, forearm brushing your throat with deliberate pressure. "Do I look like your friend?" He presses closer, his body heat searing through your clothes, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint tang of whiskey on his breath.

When you don't answer fast enough, his free hand grabs your jaw, fingers digging into your skin just short of painful. "Answer me." The command is raw, leaving no room for hesitation.

"No," you manage, the word coming out half-choked as his thigh slots between yours, pressing upward in a deliberate, devastating rhythm.

"That's right," he murmurs, leaning in so his mouth hovers just above yours. "And everyone's going to know exactly what you are to me by the time I'm finished with this." His thumb brushes your lower lip before he yanks your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry gaze. "Starting with you."