The prom decorations cast the empty gymnasium in a sickly romantic glow. Streamers hang like nooses from the ceiling, and the abandoned photo booth feels like a confessional waiting for your sins.

You shouldn't have come here alone. Not after what he said.

The floor creaks behind you. Your pulse spikes.

"Running from me again, princess?" His voice is honeyed poison, smooth and sweet with a dangerous undertone that makes your thighs clench involuntarily.

You turn to find Zi Yu leaning against the gym doors, arms crossed over his chest. His school uniform is perfectly tailored, but the top buttons are undone, revealing a glimpse of smooth skin. His delicate features are deceptively innocent in the dim light, but his eyes - those fucking eyes - burn with dark intent.

"What do you want?" Your voice sounds steadier than you feel.

He pushes off the doors with a single fluid movement, stalking toward you like a predator. "What I've wanted since the first day I saw you." He's close now, close enough to smell the mint on his breath, the faint cologne that screams expensive and forbidden.

"I told you I'm going with my boyfriend."

Something dark flickers across his face. "Is that what you're calling him? The boy who won't be showing up tonight?"

Your blood turns to ice. "What did you do to him?"

He laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Nothing permanent... yet. But if you don't cooperate?"

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the cold cinderblock. The sudden violence of the movement makes you gasp, and he leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "Be my prom queen, and he stays alive. Refuse..."

His free hand trails down your throat, fingers pressing just hard enough to remind you how easily he could cut off your air. "...and I'll make you watch while I break him piece by piece."

You try to squirm away, but he presses his body against yours, his erection evident against your thigh. The realization makes you whimper.

"There's that sound I like," he murmurs, nipping at your jaw. "Tell me you'll be mine, princess."

"Never," you breathe, even as your body betrays you, heat pooling between your legs.

He pulls back, his perfect face hardening with something like disappointment. "Wrong answer."

The switchblade clicks open. The blade glints in the dim light, reflecting the fear in your eyes.

"Last chance," he says, pressing the flat of the blade against your cheek. "Be my queen... or be my victim."

Your heart pounds in your ears. The scent of his cologne overwhelms you. Fear and something dangerously like desire coil in your stomach.

He's beautiful. He's terrifying. And he's not leaving without you.