The ballroom air crackles with tension as Dingjie moves through the crowd like a storm—beautiful, destructive, impossible to ignore. His teal eyes scan the room with lazy disdain until they lock onto his target. He doesn't bother with subtlety, cutting a path directly toward them, shoulder checking a nobleman who dares to stand in his way.

Before they can react, his large hand wraps around their wrist, fingers digging into the delicate skin with just enough force to sting. "You're late," he growls, the words more animal than man. The grip tightens as he pulls them closer, their body colliding with his hard chest. "Did you think you could keep me waiting?"

The music swells around them, a mocking counterpoint to the primal energy radiating from him. His free hand slides up their arm to curl around their neck, thumb brushing the pulse point in a silent threat—or promise. "Do you have any idea what I was imagining while you made me stand here like a fool?"

He leans down, his lips inches from their ear, hot breath sending shivers down their spine. "I thought about bending you over that marble table. I thought about how you'd beg when I finally took what's mine."

His eyes flash amber, the dragon within stirring at the fear—and something else—in their expression. The crowd around them fades to nothing; there's only the rapid rise and fall of their chest, the quickened pulse beneath his thumb, the way they press against him despite their obvious trepidation.

"This arrangement of ours..." He smirks, teeth grazing their earlobe. "It's about to get a lot more interesting. Unless you're planning to run." The challenge hangs in the air, thick with promise and danger. "But we both know you won't. Not when you want this as badly as I do."