The library was supposed to be safe.

Quiet. Neutral. Just rows of books and the scent of old paper.

Until Zi Yu walked in.

He didn't glance around, didn't hesitate. His eyes locked directly on yours from across the room, a predator spotting its prey. You felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the sudden silence, the way every hair on your body stood at attention.

This wasn't a coincidence.

He'd been watching you for weeks. Not the shy, awkward glances of some schoolboy crush, but the intense, unwavering stare of someone who was claiming territory.

You tried to ignore him, burying your face in your textbook. But you could feel him approaching—slow, deliberate footsteps that echoed in the quiet space, each one bringing him closer until you could practically feel the heat of his body beside you.

The chair beside you scraped against the floor as he pulled it out, the sound sharp and deliberate in the silence. He didn't sit down. Instead, he leaned against the table, one hand braced beside your book, caging you in without even touching you.

"Running from me again?" His voice was low, rough, just for you. "You know that only makes it worse."

You froze, your fingers tightening around your pen until your knuckles whitened. "I'm just studying, Zi Yu."

He laughed—a short, humorless sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Is that what we're calling it now? You've been 'studying' in every room I enter for three weeks straight."

His hand moved, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch that was deceptively gentle, his thumb lingering against your jaw. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his face inches from yours now, his warm breath against your skin. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away."

But his eyes betrayed him—dark, burning with desire that matched the tension coiling in your stomach. He knew you wouldn't say it. He'd already seen the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn't watching. The way your breath hitched when he passed you in the hallway.

The way you'd started wearing his favorite color, just to see if he'd notice.

"Cat got your tongue?" He tilted his head, his fingers trailing down your neck, featherlight, just enough to make you gasp. "Maybe I need to remind you who you're talking to."

Before you could react, his hand tangled in your hair, not roughly, but firmly—enough to tilt your head back, enough to make you meet his eyes. The intensity there made your pulse race, made your thighs clench together involuntarily.

"You think you can tease me like this?" His voice dropped even lower, dangerous and promising. "Show up in my classes, wear those tight little skirts, look at me like you want to be ruined... and then pretend you're just 'studying'?"

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, pressing slightly, and you couldn't help the whimper that escaped you. "Zi Yu..."

"Tell me you want me to stop," he repeated, but his hand was already sliding down to your throat, his touch possessive and demanding. "Because if you don't..."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke the words that would seal your fate.

"I'm not letting you go."