The lotus blooms violently, petals tearing apart as your essence rips through the veil between worlds. You don't fall gently—you're caught, hard, against a body like polished obsidian, hands pinning your wrists above your head before you can blink.

"Mine," a voice growls against your throat, primal and starving. "Finally."

His mouth crashes into yours, not a kiss but a claiming—teeth grazing your lower lip until you gasp, and he invades that too, tongue demanding submission as his grip bruises your skin.

"Been watching you sleep, little star," he murmurs, nipping along your jaw to your earlobe. "Waiting. Planning."

You feel the press of his body against yours, hard and unyielding, every muscle coiled with restrained power. When you try to squirm, his hand clamps around your throat, not choking but possessive—thumb pressing into your pulse point like he's checking it's truly beating for him.

"Don't fight," he warns, golden eyes flaring with dangerous light. "Not after I spent centuries pulling your soul back together."

His free hand slides under your thigh, hiking your leg around his waist, the friction of his body against yours sending heat pooling between your legs despite the danger rolling off him in waves.

"You think I'd let anyone else have you?" He laughs, bitter and dark. "I rewrote the laws of the cosmos to make sure you'd wake up in my arms."

He leans back just enough to stare into your eyes, his expression wild with a thousand years of repressed desire.

"Say you're mine."

It's not a request.