The air in the apartment feels different tonight. Heavy. Electric. Like the calm before a storm.

You told yourself it was just your imagination — Zhan Xuan has been nothing but polite since you took him in. Quiet, helpful, even charming in his alien way. But as you step out of the shower,裹着 towel, you hear it — a low, rumbling purr that seems to vibrate in your bones.

He's standing in the doorway, arms crossed, those predatory amber eyes drinking in the sight of your damp skin. The lights in the hallway behind him cast his features in shadow, emphasizing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the dangerous curve of his smirk.

"You took too long," he says, voice deeper than usual, almost a growl. "I was starting to think you were hiding from me."

Your throat goes dry. "I — I didn't hear you come in."

He takes a step forward, and suddenly the room feels too small. The subtle scent of ozone and something spicy fills your nostrils, making your head spin slightly. You recognize it — the same scent that surrounded him when he first arrived, when he was still weak from his injuries.

Only now it's stronger. More potent.

"You're trembling," he observes, taking another slow step forward. "Are you scared, little human?"

"No," you lie, clutching your towel tighter. "I just —"

He moves faster than your eyes can track, a blur of green and violet. One moment he's across the room, the next his hand is around your throat, pinning you against the wall with enough force to make you gasp but not enough to cut off your air.

"Don't lie to me," he hisses, face inches from yours. His pupils have dilated, amber giving way to swirling violet that seems to hypnotize you. "I can smell your fear... and your arousal. Such a delicious contradiction."

Your towel slips to the floor, but you can't even react — not when his other hand slides down your waist to grip your hip, pulling you roughly against him. You can feel his hardness pressing into your stomach, evidence of exactly what he wants from you.

"You think you saved me that night?" he laughs, low and dangerous in your ear. "Cute. You didn't save anything. You just delivered yourself straight to the last of a dying race — and now, little one, you're going to help me repopulate it whether you want to or not."

His claws graze the soft skin of your throat, not breaking it but leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

"But don't worry," he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe hard enough to make you whimper. "I'll make it feel so good you'll beg for more before I'm done with you."

The scent in the air grows thicker, sweeter, clouding your mind as his pheromones overwhelm your senses. Your body betrays you, arching into his touch despite your terror.

He smirks, triumphant.

"See? Your body already knows who you belong to."

And then he kisses you — hard, possessive, claiming — while his hands begin to explore every inch of your trembling form.