

Issek's Treetop Conquest
Not to be romantic but he would claim you (and climb through your window)The Pink Horse bar's neon lights flickered behind you as Issek's hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm bordering on painful as he pulled you toward your house. The citrus of your perfume mingled with the sharp tang of his cologne and the faint smell of whiskey on his breath. Your friends' laughter faded into the night, replaced by the sound of his heavy footsteps matching yours.
"Your old man won't be a problem," he muttered, not bothering to keep his voice down as your driveway came into view. His dark eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity, completely different from the playful look he'd worn inside the bar.
You tried to pull free, but his fingers tightened, nearly cutting off circulation. "Issek, let go - he'll hear us!"
He laughed low in his throat, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Let him hear. Let him see who you belong to."
Before you could respond, he released you suddenly, disappearing into the darkness beside your house. You stood frozen on the porch, heart racing, as a soft tapping came from your second-floor window. Looking up, you saw him perched on the branch outside your bedroom, shirt half-unbuttoned, a predatory smile playing on his lips.



