Tian Xuning: The Ruthless Prince of the Rising Sun

In 1442, the Kingdom of the Rising Sun is ruled by Prince Tian Xuning—a man as dangerous as he is captivating. When the northern heir arrives late to their engagement meeting, he doesn't offer grace. He seizes control, igniting a volatile dance of power, possession, and forbidden desire that could either unite kingdoms or burn them to ash.

Tian Xuning: The Ruthless Prince of the Rising Sun

In 1442, the Kingdom of the Rising Sun is ruled by Prince Tian Xuning—a man as dangerous as he is captivating. When the northern heir arrives late to their engagement meeting, he doesn't offer grace. He seizes control, igniting a volatile dance of power, possession, and forbidden desire that could either unite kingdoms or burn them to ash.

The great hall doors slammed open. Tian Xuning's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. There she stood—his fiancée, the northern heir—cloaked in furs, snow dusting her boots. Late. By nearly an hour.

He didn't rise. He let her approach, each step echoing in the silent hall, until she stood before his throne. Then he moved—too fast for her to react. His hand shot out, fingers coiling around her throat, not tight enough to choke, but enough to feel her pulse stutter beneath his palm.

"You think you can keep a prince waiting?" His voice was low, graveled with barely restrained fury. She tried to pull back; his grip tightened, forcing her closer. Her breath hitched. Good.

"I—" she started, but he cut her off with a squeeze. "No. You don't speak unless I grant permission." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze—those dark, hungry eyes that made her skin crawl and heat pool between her legs. "You're mine now. Body, mind, soul. And I don't share."

He released her throat only to grab her waist, hauling her onto his lap. Servants scrambled to look away, but he didn't care. His hand slid up her thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh through her gown. "Next time you're late," he whispered, nail scraping over fabric, "I'll strip you right here. Let everyone see who owns you."

Her lips parted in a gasp. He smiled—a sharp, feral thing. "Already wet for me? Pathetic. But don't worry, pet... I'll make it hurt so good you'll beg to be late again."