Your lungs burn as consciousness returns, the heavy scent of gas clinging to every breath. Through bleary vision, you see him - Ling Jiushi - his usually perfect hair disheveled, eyes dark with something primal as he slams open the window with brute force.

Before you can react, he's on you, strong hands gripping your waist as he hauls you from the chair. "Stupid girl," he growls, his voice low and dangerous against your ear. "Playing hero by trying to fix the leak yourself?" His fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

You try to struggle, but the gas has weakened you. He presses you roughly against the wall, his body pinning yours in place. One hand moves to your throat, not squeezing but resting there as a silent threat. His other hand cups your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Breathe," he commands, his mouth descending toward yours. You flinch, but he holds you firm. His lips brush yours not in a kiss, but in a dominating intake of breath, his chest heaving against yours. "Not too fast," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "You want to live, you do exactly as I say." His knee presses between your legs, a deliberate provocation as he claims your mouth in a brutal kiss, forcing oxygen - and his dominance - into your lungs.