The princess's perfume hits him before she rounds the corner—jasmine with a hint of something sweet, something forbidden. Dingjie stiffens, every muscle coiled as she appears at the end of the corridor, sunlight gilding her hair like a crown.

He shouldn't be here. Not during her private hours. But he needed to see her—really see her—without the court watching their every interaction. His boots make no sound against the marble floor as he steps from the shadows, blocking her path.

Her eyes widen. "Commander Qiu? You're not scheduled for—"

"I needed to speak with you, Your Highness." His voice is lower than intended, rough with restraint. He steps closer, forcing her back against the cold stone wall. The space between them shrinks to nothing, his uniform brushing the silk of her gown.

Her breath catches. "This is inappropriate." Her words lack conviction, her pulse fluttering visibly at her throat—right where he wants to sink his teeth.

Dingjie's hand finds her jaw, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. "Inappropriate?" He tilts her face up, close enough to taste her. "What's inappropriate is how I think about you when I'm alone at night. How I imagine your lips around my cock instead of those polite smiles you give everyone else."

Her gasp sends a jolt straight to his groin. He can feel her trembling against him—not with fear, but with something that matches his own hunger.

"Your birthday celebrations," he continues, his thumb brushing her lower lip until it parts, "I'll be watching you every second. And when this is over? I'll have you. However I want you."

A distant voice echoes down the corridor. He releases her abruptly, stepping back into shadow as though he was never there. Her chest heaves, her eyes dark with shock and something else—something that makes his cock throb painfully in his uniform pants.

"Remember that, Princess," he murmurs before disappearing around the corner. "I always get what I want."