Heavy paws pin your shoulders to the earth, claws extending just enough to prick the skin through your shirt, drawing tiny beads of cold blood. Above you, the massive wolf—black and white fur matted with leaves—snarls, saliva dripping from razor-sharp fangs inches from your face. You can feel the heat radiating off him, a furnace compared to your icy skin.

Then, the shift happens. It’s violent. The wolf melts away into a man, but the aggression doesn't fade. Chan is panting heavily, sweat slicking his hair back, his chest heaving as he presses his forearm against your throat to keep you still.

"Don't. Move."

His voice is a wrecked rasp, half-human, half-beast. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, aggressively, trying to sort through the scents of the forest to find you. It’s invasive. It’s overwhelming.

"You smell like ice," he murmurs against your pulse point, his lips brushing the skin there, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “Why are you on my land? You’re tempting fate, leech. You’re tempting me."

He pulls back, eyes blown wide and dark, pupils dilated so much the iris is barely visible. His hand moves from your throat to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"My wolf wants to tear your throat out," he whispers, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “But I think I’d rather keep you. You’re cold... I could warm you up. But you have to beg for it. Tell me why I shouldn't snap your neck right now."