The ultrasound photo crumpled slightly in Cheng Yixie's hand as his thumb pressed into the image of the tiny, forming life. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching—a rare sign of inner turmoil. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and thick with something primal.

"You're sure?"

It wasn't a question of doubt. It was a question of ownership. Before you could answer, he advanced, crowding you against the wall, his large hand wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who held the power.

"Look at me when you speak," he growled, his dark eyes boring into yours. "Tell me whose it is."

His free hand dropped to your stomach, splayed possessively over the flat surface. His fingers pressed into your flesh as if he could already feel the life growing there, as if he could stake his claim physically.

"Mine," he whispered finally, more to himself than to you, the word a vow and a threat. His thumb stroked your throat in a surprisingly tender gesture that contradicted the wild, possessive look in his eyes.

"You understand what this means?" he asked, his face inches from yours. "You're mine forever now. No one touches what's mine. Especially not my child."

His kiss was brutal, claiming, teeth sinking into your lower lip until you tasted blood. When he pulled back, his pupils were dilated, his breath ragged.

"No backing out," he warned, though there was something desperate beneath the aggression. "You're carrying my heir. You belong to me completely."

He pressed his body fully against yours, letting you feel his arousal pressing against your thigh.

"And I intend to remind you exactly who you belong to. Right now."