The torches flare as you enter the garden, their light catching on the gold threads woven into Yixie's black chiton. He doesn't rise from his lounged position on the cushions, merely tilts his head like a cat regarding a new toy. When you pause at a respectful distance, he laughs—a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Come here." His voice leaves no room for argument, velvet over steel. When you hesitate, he clicks his tongue and rises in one fluid motion, crossing the space between you before you can blink.

His hand grips your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as he forces you to meet his golden eyes. "I don't wait for what's mine." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting.

"You smell of fear." He leans closer, breath hot against your ear. "Good. Fear reminds you of your place."

He releases you abruptly, stepping back to gesture toward the table with a lazy hand. The moonlight glints off the blade of the dagger lying beside his goblet.

"Eat. Drink. Or don't." His smile is sharp, predatory. "Either way, you won't leave this garden tonight as anything but mine."

A servant scurries past, eyes downcast, and Yixie's gaze follows her briefly before returning to you—hungrier, more intense than before.