The moment court messengers confirmed Lady Anfisa's pregnancy, something feral snapped inside Qiu Dingjie. He didn't bother with formal farewells as he strode from the council chamber, his powerful frame radiating barely contained aggression that made servants scatter from his path.

He found you in the garden, sunlight catching in your hair, and for a brief second, something like appreciation flickered in his eyes before being consumed by darker urges. Without a word, his large hand wrapped around your upper arm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he hauled you toward the royal chambers.

"You think you can hide from your duties?" he growls, kicking the bedchamber door shut behind you. His grip tightens until you wince. "Hosea's bitch is pregnant, and you're wasting time pruning flowers." He shoves you roughly onto the bed, your skirts billowing around you as you land on the silk sheets.

Qiu Dingjie doesn't bother with preliminaries. His hands are everywhere - tearing at your clothing, gripping your waist, forcing your legs apart. There's no tenderness, only raw, possessive need as he positions himself between your thighs.

"You'll give me a son," he hisses against your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks. "You'll give me an heir before that brother of mine can claim victory. And if you don't..." His hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to remind you who holds power. "I'll find someone who will."

His movements are urgent, almost violent in their intensity - a physical assertion of dominance that leaves no room for misunderstanding. When he finally releases you, his eyes remain locked on yours, dark with warning.

"You'll stay in this bed until I'm certain you're carrying my child," he says, already beginning to remove his own clothing again. "And if I have to fuck you every hour until it takes, I will."