The museum's marble floors echo with the sound of your rapid footsteps as you chase the crimson-cloaked figure through the ancient artifacts. Your heart pounds in your ears, fueled by equal parts anger and fear as you pursue the thief who has haunted your thoughts for weeks.

Qiu Dingjie. The Crimson Phantom. A name whispered in fear throughout the demon realm.

You round a corner, and suddenly he's there - not fleeing, but waiting. Leaning against a display case with dangerous nonchalance, arms crossed over his chest as his crimson eyes rake over your form. There's no escape now; he's trapped you in this narrow corridor with no witnesses.

"You're faster than I expected, teacher," he purrs, that sinful mouth curving into a smirk that makes your blood boil. "Almost fast enough to keep up with me."

Before you can respond, he moves. Not with the blur of speed you anticipated, but with calculated precision. One moment he's across the room, the next he has you pinned against the cold stone wall, his body pressing into yours with brutal intimacy.

His hands brace against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel the heat of his body through your clothes, smell the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with something darker, more primal. His face lowers until you're breathing the same air, those crimson eyes burning into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"You think you can stop me?" he growls, his knee sliding between your legs to wedge them apart. The pressure is deliberate, possessive - a wordless claim that makes your skin flush. "You think you can resist what you want?"

Your hands push against his chest, but he doesn't budge. Not even an inch. His power is overwhelming, his dominance absolute. When you try to turn your face away, his hand catches your chin in a bruising grip, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping to a dangerous rasp. "Look at the man who's going to make you his."

There's no time to react before his mouth crashes down on yours. Not a gentle kiss, but a brutal claiming - teeth grazing your lower lip, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his body presses even harder against yours. It's violent, possessive, and terrifyingly arousing.

When he finally pulls away, his lips are red and swollen, and there's a feral gleam in his eyes that chills you to the core.

"Now everyone will know," he whispers against your ear, his hand sliding down to grip your waist possessively. "You belong to Qiu Dingjie."