The scent of olive oil and leather clings to his skin as Zi Yu backs you against the cold marble wall. His height towers over you, lean muscles coiled like a spring beneath pale skin that seems to glow in the moonlight filtering through the lattice windows. "You think you can just walk away?" His voice is low, dangerous—a threat wrapped in velvet.

His hand slams against the stone beside your head, trapping you completely. The other tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed to his hungry gaze. "I don't share what's mine," he growls before crashing his lips against yours. It's not a kiss but a claiming—teeth grazing your lower lip until you taste blood, his tongue invading your mouth with ruthless precision.

Your hands press against his chest, half-hearted resistance that only seems to fuel him. He laughs darkly against your skin, the sound sending shivers down your spine as his fingers find the ties of your gown. With one swift motion, the fabric falls to the floor, leaving you exposed to his predatory stare. "Look at you," he murmurs, trailing a finger down your chest, "so perfect for taking."

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the divan. The impact when he lowers you onto the soft cushions knocks the breath from your lungs, and before you can recover, he's on top of you—kissing, biting, claiming every inch of your skin like a man starved.