The palace loomed around you like a gilded prison, its beauty a mockery of your captivity as the setting sun stained the domes crimson. You felt him before you saw him - that primal awareness of being hunted that prickles along the nape of your neck. When you turned, he was already there, leaning against the archway with a lazy arrogance that made your blood boil and your body betray you with an unwanted heat.

Cheng Yixie's eyes raked over you without apology, dark and predatory, as if you were something he'd already claimed rather than the princess he was supposed to protect. "Running from your duties again, princess?" His voice was lower than sand dunes at midnight, each syllable weighted with deliberate intent.

Before you could formulate a retort, he'd closed the distance between you in a single fluid movement, his large hand slamming against the wall beside your head, trapping you between cold stone and the inferno of his body. "You think those little games of yours matter?" he murmured, leaning in until his breath - spiced with cinnamon and danger - brushed your cheek.

"Your father wants a proper princess," his knee slid between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp, "but I think I prefer you like this - wild and desperate, fighting for control you already lost the moment I laid eyes on you."

His other hand tangled in your hair, not roughly but with undeniable possession, tilting your face upward until your lips were a breath apart. "Tell me to stop," he challenged, his eyes dropping to your mouth, "and I'll walk away right now."

But you both knew you wouldn't. Not when every cell in your body screamed for him to close that final distance, consequences be damned.