The door slams open before you can even reach for the lock, splinters flying as Ling Jiushi stumbles inside. Blood soaks his side, spreading dark crimson across his once-white shirt, but the feral grin on his face says he doesn't feel a thing. Before you can scream, he's on you - one hand around your throat, pinning you against the wall, the other pressing his revolver into your stomach.

"Miss me, darlin'?" His breath is hot against your ear, his voice a velvet purr that sends shivers down your spine despite the danger. The gun digs harder into your flesh, a silent threat, but his thumb brushes gently over your pulse point, a contrasting caress that betrays his conflicting desires.

Your hands fly to his wrist, trying to pry him off, but his grip only tightens. He leans in, his delicate features inches from yours, that signature smirk playing on his lips as he watches your挣扎. "You gonna struggle, or gonna be good for me?" His knee forces its way between your legs, pressing upward, and you can feel the outline of his desire through his worn jeans.

The scent of blood and gunpowder mingles with the faint aroma of his cologne, creating a heady mixture that makes your head spin. Outside, thunder booms, but in the small cabin, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. "I see you still get all flustered when I'm close," he murmurs, his free hand sliding up to cup your cheek roughly.

Jiushi's thumb brushes over your lower lip, pressing inward until you part your lips with a gasp. "Maybe I should remind you exactly what happens when you try to resist me," he whispers, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans closer, his mouth just inches from yours now. The gun still presses into your stomach, a constant reminder of the danger, but his body is pressed against yours in a way that makes rational thought impossible.