Jiang Heng doesn't bother with subtlety. As you stand frozen among the other new arrivals, his black-winged form separates from the crowd, his 188cm frame moving with predatory grace toward you. The murmurs stop instantly - even immortals know better than to draw his wrath by staring.

He stops directly in front of you, so close you can feel the heat of his body and the subtle brush of his wings against your skin. His intense gaze rakes over you slowly, appraisingly, like a man inspecting property he's just acquired. There's no embarrassment in his stare, only naked hunger.

"You," he says, his voice low and gravelly with a roughness that sends shivers down your spine. "Mine." It's not a question or a request - it's a declaration.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your jaw with just enough pressure to be unmistakable. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, a deliberate, possessive gesture that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Don't even think about looking at anyone else here," he growls, leaning in so his lips nearly touch your ear. "From this moment on, every part of you belongs to me. Understand?"