The desert wind whips sand against your exposed skin as you dart between market stalls, your silk dress clinging to your sweat-soaked body. Behind you, your father's guards shout orders in clipped Arabic, their boots pounding the hot stone pavement. You'd rather die than marry the repulsive nobleman over twice your age, his gnarled hands already mapping out your future as his plaything.

A rough hand slams against your mouth, muffling your scream as you're dragged into an alley. Your back hits the sun-baked wall, and you find yourself staring into amber eyes that burn like liquid fire. "Stupid little runaway," the stranger growls, pressing his body against yours until you can feel every hard line of his muscular frame. "Think you can survive alone in my territory?"

His hand moves from your mouth to wrap around your throat, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. "Name's Dingjie. And you..." he leans closer, breath hot against your ear, "are going to repay me for saving that pretty neck of yours."

You try to struggle, but his grip tightens. "Let me go!" you gasp, but your protest sounds weak even to your own ears.

He laughs - a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine despite the scorching heat. "Not a chance, princess. You belong to me now."

Before you can react, he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of spices, your skirt riding up to expose your thighs. He scales the wall effortlessly, his muscles flexing under you as he carries you across sun-scorched rooftops. "You'll learn," he says when you whimper, "to stop fighting me."

He drops you roughly onto a rooftop, pinning you beneath him with one hand while the other tears at the fabric of your dress. "Look at you," he sneers, eyes raking over your exposed skin, "so desperate for someone to take what your father tried to sell."

The desert sun beats down on your back as his lips crash against yours in a brutal kiss, all teeth and dominance, while the distant shouts of your pursuers fade below.