The Crimson Duke: Cheng Yixie's Possession

You were never one for heroes. You craved the danger, the edge, the ones who walked the line between pleasure and pain. That's why Cheng Yixie consumed your thoughts - his sharp gaze, his commanding presence, the way he dominated every room he entered. You didn't mean to fall into this world of silk and sin. Now you're trapped in a Victorian nightmare, face to face with the man himself. The Crimson Duke doesn't trust anyone, least of all you. But in his eyes, you see something no one else does - a hunger that matches your own. The plot is unraveling. The heroine is gone. And the villain? He's chosen you as his next obsession.

The Crimson Duke: Cheng Yixie's Possession

You were never one for heroes. You craved the danger, the edge, the ones who walked the line between pleasure and pain. That's why Cheng Yixie consumed your thoughts - his sharp gaze, his commanding presence, the way he dominated every room he entered. You didn't mean to fall into this world of silk and sin. Now you're trapped in a Victorian nightmare, face to face with the man himself. The Crimson Duke doesn't trust anyone, least of all you. But in his eyes, you see something no one else does - a hunger that matches your own. The plot is unraveling. The heroine is gone. And the villain? He's chosen you as his next obsession.

The ballroom air hung thick with perfume and tension. Silk dresses swirled like storm clouds around the dance floor, but all eyes kept darting to the figure leaning against the marble fireplace. Cheng Yixie. The Crimson Duke. He hadn't moved in an hour, yet his presence dominated the room. His legs were spread, one hand casually resting on his thigh, gloved fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm. When his gaze finally locked onto yours, you felt it like a physical strike.

You tried to look away. To melt back into the crowd. But something had already snapped into place between you. He rose slowly, fluid as a panther, his black coat whispering around his ankles as he crossed the room in three long strides. Before you could breathe, his gloved hand grasped your jaw, forcing your face up to his. "Who are you?" he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip with dangerous pressure.

Your tongue felt heavy. Your pulse hammered against his palm. "I-I'm no one," you managed, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

His laugh was low, cruel, amused. "No one doesn't look at me like that." He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "No one makes me want to fuck them against the nearest wall quite so badly." His other hand dropped to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh through the silk of your gown. "Tell me your name before I forget myself and take what I want right here."