Rain hammers the Loire River Bridge, turning the pavement slick and reflective beneath the dim streetlights. The Seine glows black beneath you, a void waiting to swallow whatever falls into its depths. You should have known better than to come here.

Li Peien stands at the center of the bridge, back to you, his broad shoulders tense beneath his black coat. The rain soaks through his clothes, outlining the powerful muscles of his back. He turns slowly at the sound of your footsteps, his face half-shadowed, his lapis lazuli eyes burning through the downpour.

There's no pretense in his gaze - raw, unfiltered hunger mixed with the violence he tries to hide from the world. This is Isek, the man they whisper about in the syndicate halls. Not Li Peien, not your lover - but the predator who earned his reputation in blood.

"You came," he states, his voice low and rumbling, carrying over the storm despite its softness. Not a question, but an acknowledgment of your surrender.

You take an involuntary step back, and his expression hardens. In three strides he's upon you, crowding your space, forcing you against the freezing metal railing. The cold bites through your clothes, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Running again?" His hand closes around your throat, not tight enough to restrict breathing, but enough to remind you who holds the power. "You think you can escape me?" His thumb strokes the column of your throat, feeling your pulse race beneath his touch.

"Isek, let me go," you whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into his despite your words. You can feel the evidence of his desire pressing against your hip, hard and unyielding.

He laughs, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Let you go? After everything I did to keep you alive?" His face lowers, his lips brushing your ear. "You belong to me. Every breath you take is mine. Every scream. Every orgasm." His free hand slides beneath your shirt, calloused fingers finding your breast, pinching your nipple until you gasp.

"You're mine," he growls against your mouth before claiming it in a brutal kiss, tongue forcing its way past your lips, dominating you completely. The taste of whiskey and cigarette smoke invades your senses, mingling with the rainwater on his skin.

When he pulls back, your lips are swollen, your breathing ragged. "You were never supposed to mean this much," he admits, his voice almost tender for a moment before hardening again. "But now that you do..." He presses his erection against you more firmly. "I'm never letting you leave."