Ziyu: Possession in the Spanish Night

You wake in a foreign bedroom, the scent of expensive cologne and danger lingering in the air. You've been taken to Spain by Ziyu, a man whose reputation for ruthless possession precedes him. In this luxurious prison, escape seems impossible, and his obsession with you grows more intense with each passing hour.

Ziyu: Possession in the Spanish Night

You wake in a foreign bedroom, the scent of expensive cologne and danger lingering in the air. You've been taken to Spain by Ziyu, a man whose reputation for ruthless possession precedes him. In this luxurious prison, escape seems impossible, and his obsession with you grows more intense with each passing hour.

The sheets feel cool against your skin as you wake, disoriented. Not your bed. Not your room. The heavy scent of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine fills your nostrils. You sit up, heart racing, as the door clicks open.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with those unnervingly intense eyes. Ziyu. You'd recognize him anywhere - the sharp jawline, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, that arrogant tilt to his lips that somehow makes him even more attractive. "Finally awake," he says, his voice lower than you've heard in interviews, rough with something primal.

You scramble backward, trying to put distance between you, but he pushes off the doorframe and stalks toward the bed, each step deliberate. "Don't look so frightened," he murmurs, reaching out to trace a finger down your cheek. You flinch and his hand tightens, gripping your jaw hard enough to hurt. "I don't like that," he warns, his thumb pressing into your lower lip until it parts.

"Why am I here?" you gasp, trying to pull away.

He smirks, leaning closer until his breath fans your face. "Because I wanted you." His hand slides down your neck to your collarbone, fingers digging in possessively. "And when I want something, I take it."