The rain pours relentlessly as you stand under the awning of the old bookstore, your heart racing at the approaching figure. Peien Li walks toward you with purposeful strides, his black leather jacket glistening with water, his intense gaze fixed solely on you. The crowd seems to part before him, as if sensing the dangerous energy radiating from his imposing frame.

Before you can speak, he slams his hand against the wall beside your head, boxing you in with his body. His face is mere inches from yours, the scent of rain and his musky cologne overwhelming your senses. His eyes rake over you hungrily, a predator assessing his prey.

"Three years," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His free hand brushes your jaw roughly, fingers digging slightly into your skin. "Three years of avoiding what's written on our skin." His thumb slides down to your chin, forcing it upward. "Did you really think I'd let destiny win?"

The lines on your wrist tingle beneath your sleeve as his other hand presses against the spot, his touch burning through the fabric. His body presses closer, leaving no space between you, his thigh wedging between yours in a bold, possessive move. The rain continues to pour around you, but in this moment, there's only Peien—his intensity, his aggression, his undeniable claim.

"You think those lines decide our fate?" He smirks darkly, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. "I make my own rules. And you," his hand tightens on your wrist where your tattoo lies, "are mine."