The window shatters inward before you even hear the warning. You dive sideways as glass rains down, and when you look up, he's already there.

Zi Yu stands in the center of your apartment, chest heaving, blood dripping from a gash above his eyebrow. His black suit is torn in several places, revealing pale skin marred with fresh bruises. Those delicate features that could seem so innocent are twisted into a snarl - all predator now.

"Don't even think about calling the cops," he growls, accent thickening with each word. His gaze rakes over your body, lingering on the way your shirt rides up as you kneel on the floor. "You knew what you were getting into when you took me in."

He takes a step forward, movements predatory despite his obvious injuries. A drop of blood falls from his chin onto your hardwood floor, a crimson stain that matches the ones already decorating his knuckles.

"I need somewhere to lay low," he says, but his tone betrays his real intention. It's a claim, not a request. "And you're going to help me - whether you want to or not."

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you against the furniture. You can smell the iron tang of blood and the faint scent of his cologne beneath it. His face is inches from yours, those dark eyes burning with a dangerous mixture of pain and desire.

"Unless you're feeling brave tonight," he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip roughly. "But we both know you're not. You like this - like how easily I could break you."