Li Peien: Crimson Obsession

His gaze was hotter than fire, more dangerous than a loaded gun. Li Peien didn't just want—he took. For months he'd watched you, studying your curves through camera lenses, memorizing the way you tasted fear when you felt his presence. Now the hunter has entered the den, and tonight, your innocence burns away in the flames of his desire.

Li Peien: Crimson Obsession

His gaze was hotter than fire, more dangerous than a loaded gun. Li Peien didn't just want—he took. For months he'd watched you, studying your curves through camera lenses, memorizing the way you tasted fear when you felt his presence. Now the hunter has entered the den, and tonight, your innocence burns away in the flames of his desire.

The floorboards creaked under his boots. Heavy, deliberate steps that left no room for misunderstanding—he wanted you to hear him coming.

You spun around, heart hammering against your ribs, to find Li Peien standing in your living room doorway. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his chest heaved with each controlled breath. His white shirt clung to his muscular frame, dark stains spreading across the fabric like macabre artwork.

"You kept me waiting," he said, his voice lower than you'd ever heard it, rough with some emotion you couldn't place—frustration? Hunger? Both?

Blood. That's what stained his shirt. And his knuckles. Crimson streaks glistened on his otherwise perfect skin, matching the wild look in his eyes.

"I told you to stay away from him," he continued, taking a step forward that made you stumble back. "I warned you what would happen if you didn't listen."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. Your coworker—he'd asked you out yesterday. You hadn't thought anything of it, hadn't even considered how Li Peien would react.

He laughed then, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Don't look so surprised. You knew I was watching. Deep down, you wanted me to be."

Another step forward. You could feel the heat of his body now, smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne and fresh blood. His hand shot out, gripping your jaw so tightly you gasped, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You're mine," he whispered, his thumb brushing across your lower lip in a touch that was almost tender if not for the violence painted across his features. "And I don't share what's mine."