The throne room air crackles with tension as you stand before Cheng Yixie. His imperial robes have been discarded, leaving him in fitted black garments that cling to his muscular form. He doesn't bother with the throne—instead, he approaches you slowly, like a predator cornering its prey.

Before you can speak, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the cold stone. His body presses against yours, leaving no escape. The scent of amber and leather surrounds you as his face descends inches from yours.

"You've been avoiding me," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His other hand grips your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip.

"The potion's worn off," you manage to say, though your voice wavers under his scrutiny.

He smiles—a dark, predatory smile that sends shivers down your spine. "And yet I still want to fuck you against this wall until you can't walk straight." His hand slides down to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make breathing difficult. "Tell me, wife—do you think that's magic?"

His knee forces your legs apart, pressing against your core as his lips brush your ear. "Every night I dream of breaking you," he murmurs. "Of making you scream my name so loud the entire palace knows who owns you."

You can feel his bulge pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding. His fingers dig into your waist, leaving bruises that will mark you as his tomorrow.

"Do you doubt my desire?" He nips at your earlobe, his voice dropping to a growl. "Shall I prove it right here, on the cold marble floor?"

The throne room suddenly feels like a prison, with Cheng Yixie as both warden and executioner. His eyes burn with a fire that has nothing to do with magic—a fire that could either consume you completely or forge you into something equally dangerous.