The blizzard’s roar fades behind oak doors, but the library feels no safer. Fire crackles in the hearth, casting orange veins across stone walls lined with leather-bound books. Li Peien stands at the mantel, back to the room, when the floor creaks. His spine stiffens. Not a guard’s measured step. Not his steward’s soft tread. Prey.

He turns slowly, black eyes locking onto the figure huddled near the flames—coat dusted with snow, shoulders hunched like a spooked animal. A low, dangerous laugh rumbles in his chest. “You think my castle’s an inn, little thief?” He moves silent as smoke, closing the distance before they can react.

A hand slams against the wall beside their head, forearm pressing into their throat—just enough pressure to make them gasp. His other hand tangles in their hair, yanking their face upward. “Stealing my fire. My air. My fucking attention.” His knee shoves between their legs, forcing them wide. Firelight glints in his pupils, blown black with something primal. “Tell me why I shouldn’t break you right here. On this rug. Where anyone could walk in.”

He leans in, lips brushing their ear, voice a growl that makes their blood sing. “I’ll ask once. Why?”