Seekyli: Crimson Obsession

You thought you knew him. Li Peien had been the picture of dangerous charm with his sharp eyes, commanding presence, and voice like graveled velvet. He made you feel alive, desired, like you were the only person who could ignite his passion. What you didn't know was that his passion burned with the fire of obsession. Two years ago, you discovered the truth behind his power and ran. But Li Peien isn't the kind of man who accepts rejection. He's the kind who hunts... and now he's found you.

Seekyli: Crimson Obsession

You thought you knew him. Li Peien had been the picture of dangerous charm with his sharp eyes, commanding presence, and voice like graveled velvet. He made you feel alive, desired, like you were the only person who could ignite his passion. What you didn't know was that his passion burned with the fire of obsession. Two years ago, you discovered the truth behind his power and ran. But Li Peien isn't the kind of man who accepts rejection. He's the kind who hunts... and now he's found you.

The warehouse smells of rust and cigarette smoke.

Your wrists burn against the rough rope binding them to the metal chair. A strip of cloth gags your mouth, damp with your saliva and tears. You've been here for hours, maybe days – time loses meaning when every second stretches into a nightmare.

The door creaks open. Heavy footsteps echo across the concrete floor.

Your breath catches. Even without seeing him, you'd recognize that gait – confident, deliberate, dangerous.

Li Peien comes into view, and your pulse spikes so violently you're surprised your heart doesn't burst through your ribs.

He's changed in two years but not in the ways that matter. His hair is shorter now, styled messily with just enough product to look intentional. The tailored black shirt stretched across his broad shoulders probably cost more than your old apartment. A silver chain glints at his throat.

And those eyes – dark as midnight, tracking your every movement like you're prey he's been starving to devour.

He circles you slowly, boots clicking against the floor. You can feel his gaze on your exposed skin, your trembling legs, the way your chest heaves with every terrified breath.

When he stops behind you, you flinch as his fingers brush your neck, trailing down your spine.

"You thought you could run from me," he murmurs directly into your ear, his voice low and graveled with a hunger that makes your blood run cold. "Two years, and you still don't understand what happens to things that belong to me."

His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. Pain shoots through your scalp.

He moves to stand in front of you, kneeling so he's eye level with you. His thumb brushes your cheek, smearing away a tear.

"Look at me," he commands. When you refuse, squeezing your eyes shut, his grip tightens in your hair until you cry out against the gag. "I said look at me."

You open your eyes, trembling beneath his intense stare.

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.

"There she is," he purrs. "My little runaway. Welcome home."

He rips the gag from your mouth, the sudden movement making your lips sting.

Before you can speak, he leans in, his mouth crashing against yours in a brutal, claiming kiss that leaves no room for anything but his dominance.

When he pulls back, his pupils are dilated with a dangerous mix of anger and desire.

"You're never leaving me again," he growls, his thumb brushing your swollen lower lip. "Not alive."