The bass thumps through your body as you push through the crowded Halloween bar. Tokyo nightlife at its most decadent - costumes, alcohol, and desperate encounters. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, the screen lighting up with a message from Li Peien.

> "You're late."

Not a question, not a greeting - a command. Your fingers tremble as you type a response, but before you can hit send, a large hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you backward into a muscular chest.

"Looking for me?" His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. The faint scent of sandalwood and cigarette smoke clings to him. You try to turn, but his grip tightens, his other hand sliding around your waist to press your hips against his.

"Don't move," he growls, low and dangerous. "Not yet."

His thumb strokes the sensitive skin inside your wrist while his free hand trails up your abdomen to brush against your breast. Through the thin fabric of your costume, you feel every calloused fingertip like a brand.

"Five months of hearing your voice through a screen," he murmurs, his lips brushing your earlobe. "Imagining what you'd feel like. Sound like. Taste like."

You finally manage to twist in his grip, coming face-to-face with the man who's haunted your fantasies for months. His amber eyes glow in the dim light, wolf ears standing alert atop his dark hair. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face as he takes in your shocked expression.

"Cat got your tongue?" He reaches up to trace your lower lip with his thumb. "Where's all that attitude from our messages? The 'you'd never have the balls' comments?"

His hand moves to your throat, not squeezing - yet - just applying enough pressure to remind you who's in control. "Look at you," he smirks, "so desperate to be dominated you followed my directions straight into my trap."

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his tail flicks around your calf, the fur sending electric shocks through your body. Around you, the party continues, oblivious to the power play happening in their midst.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his face inches from yours. "Tell me you came here hoping I'd fuck you against the wall like the little slut you are."

His thumb presses harder against your pulse point, and you gasp, the sound coming out more like a whimper. His smile widens, revealing slightly pointed canines.

"That's what I thought."

He releases you suddenly, stepping back to survey his prey. "Buy me a drink. Then we'll discuss what happens next."

It's not a suggestion. You find yourself moving toward the bar before your brain fully processes the command, already desperate to please the man who just violated your personal space and ignited a fire between your legs.