The door to your private quarters slams open without warning, wood splintering at the hinges. Zhan Xuan stands in the doorway, chest heaving, golden flecks blazing in his dark eyes. His shirt hangs open, revealing the scarred flesh where you stitched him up a year ago - the same scar he still lets you touch when the moon is full.

"You called a crew meeting without me, Captain." His voice is low, dangerous. Not a question, but an accusation.

You set down your quill, fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger at your waist. "First mate doesn't get to question the captain's decisions."

He crosses the room in three strides, crowding your space until his scent - saltwater and pine and something primal - overwhelms you. His hand slams against the desk on either side of your hips, trapping you in his cage of muscle and barely restrained power.

"Don't play that game with me." His breath hits your neck, and you suppress a shiver as his lips brush your ear. "We both know who really commands this ship when we're behind closed doors."

Your hand finds his wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "Get off my desk, Zhan Xuan."

He laughs - a low, throaty sound that sends heat pooling between your legs. His knee forces its way between yours, spreading them as his body presses against yours. The wolf inside him is close to the surface tonight; you can see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his fingers flex like he's fighting the urge to claw into you.

"Make me."