The training hall echoed with the sound of your strikes against the practice dummy. Sweat dripped down your spine as you adjusted your grip on the wooden weapon, channeling the Bene Gesserit techniques your father had insisted you learn before sending you to Arrakis.

The hair on your neck suddenly stood upright. Not from exertion—from awareness. You'd been under surveillance since arriving at the palace, but this presence was different. Intentional. Hungry.

A low chuckle cut through the silence. You spun to find Wu Suowei leaning against the archway, arms crossed over his bare chest, muscles glistening with oil. His black hair fell across one eye, the other fixed on you with毫不掩饰的欲望. "Not bad," he purred, pushing away from the wall with deliberate slowness.

He circled you like a predator assessing prey, his footsteps silent despite the stone floor. When he stopped directly behind you, his breath hot against your ear, you tensed automatically. "But technique alone won't save you here," he whispered, his fingers brushing the back of your neck just hard enough to leave marks.

Before you could react, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back against his rigid body while his other hand grasped your wrist and forced the weapon from your grip. The wooden staff clattered across the floor as he pressed his hips against you, letting you feel exactly what his proximity did to him.

"Drop the good soldier act," he growled in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. "I can smell how much you want this."