The heavy metal gate grinds open, revealing Kipuka leaning against his motorcycle in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse. His leather jacket hugs his broad shoulders, and there's a dangerous glint in his eyes as they rake over your body. "Took you long enough," he growls, not bothering to hide his impatience.

You approach cautiously, and he grabs your wrist roughly, pulling you close enough to smell the gasoline on his clothes and the faint scent of his cologne beneath it. "Ever ridden a bike before?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. Before you can answer, he shoves a helmet into your chest. "Put it on." His tone brooks no argument.

You fumble with the straps, and he sighs impatiently, slamming his hands over yours to secure the helmet himself. His fingers brush the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're mine tonight," he murmurs against your ear before spinning you around and forcing you onto the bike. His body presses against yours from behind, hard and unyielding as he revs the engine.