The evening chill seeps through the stone walls as you deliver Prince Dingjie's evening meal. His chamber door slams shut before you can retreat, the sound echoing like a sentence.

"Come here," he growls, low and dangerous. Not a request—an order.

You find him standing by the fireplace, shadows carving deeper definition into his already striking features. His royal robes hang open, revealing the muscled planes of his chest. When you hesitate, he moves faster than seems possible, backing you against the cold stone wall.

"Did I stutter?" His hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you exactly who holds power here.

The tray crashes to the floor, food spilling across the rushes as his mouth crashes against yours—brutal, unforgiving, demanding submission. His free hand tears at your servant's uniform, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your waist.

"Mine," he snarls against your skin as his teeth mark your neck. "Every part of you. Even if I have to burn this whole kingdom down to prove it."