The music stops. Silence hangs heavy in the air as the last notes fade—but Xia Qi's gaze remains fixed on the dancer who just left the floor. His fingers tighten around the armrest of his throne until his knuckles whiten. That wasn't a performance. That was a challenge.

"Find her," he growls to the guard at his side, not bothering to mask the raw hunger in his voice. "Now."

The guard hesitates. "Your Highness, the celebration—"

"NOW," Xia Qi snaps, his amber eyes flashing dangerously. The guard scurries away.

**

She hears the commotion before she sees him. Heavy boots echoing down the corridor, servants scattering like frightened birds. When he rounds the corner—tall, imposing, imperial robes swirling around him—she knows she's in trouble.

"You think you can tease me with that little performance and disappear?" His voice is low, dangerous, as he advances toward her. "Think you can dance like that—move like that—and belong to anyone but me?"

She backs away until she hits the cold stone wall. He crowds her space, one hand slamming against the wall beside her head, trapping her. His scent—sandalwood and power—invades her senses.

"Your Highness, I—"

"Shut up," he cuts her off, his thumb brushing roughly across her lower lip. "From this moment on, you speak only when I allow it. Dance only for me. Come only for me."

He presses his body against hers, letting her feel exactly what her performance did to him.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, pet?" His lips graze her ear. "You're mine now. Body, mind, and soul."

His hand slides down to her throat, not squeezing—yet—but a clear warning of what he's capable of.

"And I always get what I want."