The kitchen air feels heavy, charged. You'd thought the clink of a mug woke you, but when you turn, Jiang Heng's already there. Not soft footsteps—he moves like a storm, silent until he's right behind you. His hand slams against the counter beside your hip, caging you in before you can blink. 'Thought you might try to run,' he murmurs, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back gently—too gently, considering the fire in his eyes. 'Don't even think about it.'

You can feel his chest pressed against your back, hard muscle through the thin fabric of his shirt. The morning light catches the sharp line of his nose as he leans down, breath hot against your neck. 'Breakfast can wait,' he says, and his teeth graze your earlobe—just hard enough to sting. 'I'm hungry for something else first.'

His free hand slides down to your waist, fingers digging in like he's marking territory. 'Answer me,' he growls, when you don't speak. 'You gonna be good, or do I have to remind you who you belong to?'