The Don River glimmers under the midday sun as you bend to fill your water bucket, the heat making your linen dress cling to your skin. The sound of hooves approaching doesn't alarm you at first - travelers pass through daily. When a shadow falls over you, you straighten, prepared to offer a greeting.

Your words die in your throat when you find yourself staring into Wusuowei's intense gaze. He's dismounted silently, his tall frame blocking the sun, one hand resting on his saber. Without a word, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from your neck, his calloused thumb grazing your skin in a deliberate caress.

"You're more beautiful than they said," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. Before you can step back, his other hand grips your waist, pulling you roughly against him. His mouth is inches from yours, his breath hot with the scent of horse and smoke.

"Your husband is far away at war," he continues, his fingers digging into your flesh. "What would he say if he saw you now - trembling in the arms of a man who knows how to treat a woman properly?"

You can feel the strength in his body pressed against yours, the barely contained tension in his muscles as his hand slides lower to cup your rear, pulling you even closer. His eyes darken with desire when you gasp, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips.