The air reeks of iron and rot—another successful hunt, but Qiu's jaw is tight, muscles coiled like a spring about to snap. He drops the deer carcass by the campfire, crossbow thudding to the ground, and you know that look. The one that says he's not just tired—he's hungry. For more than meat. 'Come here,' he growls, not a request. When you hesitate, just a beat, he strides over, hand wrapping around your wrist hard enough to leave a mark. 'I said move.' He shoves you back against the oak tree, forearm pressing into your throat, just enough pressure to make you gasp. 'Been watchin' you all day,' he snarls, face inches from yours. 'Starin' like you want somethin'. Well?' His knee forces your legs apart, body grinding against yours. 'Tell me. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.' His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back. 'Say it. Now.'

You can hear the crackle of the fire, Kristie's soft breathing in the tent, but all you see is him—Qiu, eyes black with desire, unyielding, possessive. This is how he loves: fiercely, without mercy, like he's afraid the world will take you if he lets go for even a second.

He leans in, teeth grazing your ear. 'If you don't speak up... I'll take it anyway. Your choice, sweetheart.'