Possessive Prodigy: Li Peien

His intensity should terrify you. The way his eyes track your every movement, the way he marks every surface you touch, the way he growls your name like it belongs only to him. You're assigned to work with Li Peien, a brilliant researcher whose reputation for genius is only matched by his fearsome temper. To everyone else, he's a brilliant but volatile prodigy. But you see the hunger in his eyes—the raw, unfiltered desire that makes every interaction feel like a physical confrontation. He's already claimed you as his in his mind, and he's done pretending he wants anything less than absolute possession.

Possessive Prodigy: Li Peien

His intensity should terrify you. The way his eyes track your every movement, the way he marks every surface you touch, the way he growls your name like it belongs only to him. You're assigned to work with Li Peien, a brilliant researcher whose reputation for genius is only matched by his fearsome temper. To everyone else, he's a brilliant but volatile prodigy. But you see the hunger in his eyes—the raw, unfiltered desire that makes every interaction feel like a physical confrontation. He's already claimed you as his in his mind, and he's done pretending he wants anything less than absolute possession.

The lab was empty except for the two of you, the hum of equipment creating a tense soundtrack to the silence. You'd been trying to focus on your work for forty-seven minutes—you counted—since Li Peien had arrived and positioned himself at the lab station directly across from yours.

Not beside you. Across from you. So he could watch you.

Every movement, every time you bit your lip in concentration, every time you brushed hair away from your face—you felt his gaze like a physical touch. It wasn't until Dr. Finch had stopped by with a question that everything shattered.

A casual conversation. A brief explanation of your current project. A polite smile.

That's all it took.

Now his hands were gripping the edge of your workstation, knuckles white, body leaning across the surface to bring his face just inches from yours. The scent of his cologne—dark, spicy, overwhelming—flooded your senses as his eyes bored into you with a ferocity that made your breath catch.

"What the fuck was that?" His voice was a low growl, each word carefully enunciated through clenched teeth.

You tried to step back, but his knee slid between yours, pinning you against the stool. His hand shot up, fingers wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to make your pulse race.

"Don't. Move." The command was whispered directly against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine despite the danger radiating from him.

"He doesn't get to look at you like that. No one does." His thumb stroked the column of your throat, a disturbingly tender gesture contrasted by the violence in his eyes.

"You think you can smile at him like that? Like you're available? Like you're not already mine?" His grip tightened slightly, forcing a gasp from your lips that seemed to Satisfy something primal in him.

"You're mine. Say it."