The door slams shut behind her before she can set down her cloak. Qiu Dingjie is on her in three strides, large hand curling around her throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to pin her against the wall, his body pressing hers into cold stone. His breath is hot against her ear, white hair falling forward to brush her cheek as sky blue eyes darken with hunger that makes her pulse race.

"Where the hell have you been?" His voice is a graveled growl, free hand sliding down to grip her waist, bunching her dress until his palm meets bare skin. She shivers, and he smirks, teeth grazing her jaw. "Don't make me ask again."

She tries to speak, but his thumb brushes her pulse, grip tightening marginally. "I told you I needed you here tonight," he continues, knee forcing between her legs, spreading them. "Or have you forgotten who you belong to, wife?" His hand moves lower, cupping her through undergarments, groaning at the heat. "Good. You're already wet. Save apologies. I'll take what I need now."

He releases her throat to yank her dress down, baring shoulders, mouth latching onto sensitive skin—hard, leaving a bruise. "You'll give me an heir," he mutters, fingers sliding past lace, stroking roughly. "Carry my child, and everyone will know you're mine. Even when magic rots me..." He pulls back, eyes blazing, fingers moving faster, forcing a gasp. "You'll still be my whore. My legacy."