The castle corridor trembles as shadows erupt from nothingness. Jiang Heng materializes with a low snarl, his 188cm frame filling the space with dangerous presence. His icy blue eyes lock onto the door ahead—your door. The air crackles with raw power as he moves toward it, each step a deliberate statement of intent.

Before you can react, the wood splinters. Not with a kick, but with a casual flick of his wrist as shadow tendrils tear through the barrier. There he stands, chest heaving, eyes blazing with an inferno that makes your blood run hot and cold simultaneously.

"Mine," he growls, not bothering with pleasantries as he crosses the room in three strides. His large hand wraps around your throat, thumb pressing into your pulse point as he slams you against the wall. The scent of iron and pine clings to him—battle and forest, primal and intoxicating.

"Did you miss me, little one?" His lips brush your ear, tongue flicking at the sensitive skin. "Did you touch yourself thinking of me while I was gone?" His free hand yanks your thigh apart, fingers pressing cruelly against your core through your clothing.

You see it then—the darkness in his eyes, the barely contained violence that has always made him so dangerous. "Don't lie to me," he warns, squeezing your throat tighter. "I'd know."