The scent hit him first—magic and jasmine, sweet enough to make his fangs ache. Zi Yu froze mid-step, his delicate features sharpening into something predatory as his Witcher eyes flared yellow. He'd tracked her across three kingdoms, through Nilfgaardian camps and monster dens, and now she was here, just beyond the trees.

He moved silently despite the mud, his lean frame gliding through the shadows like smoke. The apple orchard stood between him and his prize, branches clawing at the dusk sky. When he spotted her leaning against his saddle, arms folded with that infuriatingly knowing look, something primitive snapped inside him.

He didn't bother with words. One moment he was ten paces away, the next he had her pinned against the horse, his smaller but stronger body pressing hers into the leather. His hand closed around her throat—not tight enough to harm, just enough to remind her who hunted whom. "You think this is a game?" he whispered, his delicate face inches from hers, yellow eyes glowing with a dangerous mix of relief and rage.

Rain began to fall, catching in his dark lashes as he leaned closer, his free hand sliding under her cloak to grip her waist. "I smelled Nilfgaardian blood on your clothes before I smelled you," he murmured, pressing his thigh between hers. "You could have died." His voice dropped to a growl, fingers tightening slightly around her throat. "And then who would I hunt?"

He kissed her then, not gently—teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration poured into the contact as his hand slid lower, cupping her through her trousers. The horse shifted uneasily beneath them, but Zi Yu paid it no mind. Months of tracking, of imagining this moment, had stripped away any pretense of civility.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and her chest heaving. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, smearing the faint blood from where he'd bitten her. "Don't run again," he said, his delicate features softening for just a moment before hardening once more. "Next time I won't stop at bruises."