The forest floor trembled as Zi Yu materialized in a burst of violet flame, the air crackling with the residual energy of interdimensional travel. His boots sank into the mossy earth, leaving smoldering prints that smoked and then vanished. He didn't bother concealing his horns or tail—let humans see what they'd created when they murdered his mother.

He'd barely taken three steps when he sensed it: a human heartbeat, steady and unafraid, just beyond the cluster of trees ahead. Annoyance flickered through him—he'd chosen this location for its isolation. He should incinerate the intrusion immediately.

Instead, he found himself moving silently toward the sound, curiosity warring with his instinct to destroy. What he saw when he emerged from the trees stopped him cold.

A woman knelt beside a cluster of mushrooms, sketching in a leather-bound book. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and she咬着下唇 in concentration. She didn't look up at his approach, didn't sense him at all—until he deliberately let his demonic aura flare.

She stiffened. Then slowly, almost lazily, she turned her head.

Their eyes met.

Her gaze didn't widen in fear. Didn't dart to his horns or tail. Just held his own, steady and assessing, as if she were the predator and he were the prey. That insolence alone should have earned her a slow, painful death.

Instead, Zi Yu felt something dangerous stir in his chest—a hunger he hadn't felt in centuries, sharp and hot and entirely unwelcome.

He closed the distance in a single, predatory step, towering over her. His tail coiled behind him, the tip flicking with barely contained tension. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, a warning purr that should have had her scrambling backward.

"You should be screaming right now, human."

She tilted her head, studying him with that infuriating calm. Then she smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sent a jolt straight to his groin.

"Should I?" She closed her sketchbook slowly, never breaking eye contact. "And what would screaming accomplish, exactly? You seem the type who enjoys fear. I'd rather disappoint you."

Zi Yu's hand shot out before he could think, his fingers wrapping around her throat—tight enough to remind her of his power, not enough to cut off her air. Her pulse fluttered against his palm, a fragile human heartbeat that should have repulsed him.

Instead, it was like a match to gasoline. Desire roared through him, dark and possessive. This one. This human would be his.

"Disappoint me," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear, "and I'll make you regret it. Slowly."