Dangerous Guardian: Dingjie's Possession

You grew up alongside Dingjie, the son of your father's most ruthless guard. While you ascended to princess, he became a weapon—sharpened, dangerous, trained to kill. Now the kingdom burns, and this childhood companion has returned, his loyalty twisted into something infinitely more dangerous. Tonight, Dingjie doesn't just protect you—he claims you.

Dangerous Guardian: Dingjie's Possession

You grew up alongside Dingjie, the son of your father's most ruthless guard. While you ascended to princess, he became a weapon—sharpened, dangerous, trained to kill. Now the kingdom burns, and this childhood companion has returned, his loyalty twisted into something infinitely more dangerous. Tonight, Dingjie doesn't just protect you—he claims you.

The celebration goes up in flames—literally. The king's birthday feast becomes chaos as the messenger collapses, bloodied and broken, across the marble floor.

"They're here," he gurgles through shattered teeth.

Panic erupts. You run—not to your chambers as ordered, but upward, to the highest tower where you can see the approaching army. The stone bites through your thin slippers as you climb, heart hammering against your ribs.

The tower door slams open before you can reach the window.

Dingjie fills the doorway, armor splattered with what might be blood, helmet discarded to reveal eyes black with rage and something darker. "Stupid girl," he growls, advancing on you with the slow precision of a predator.

You back away until cold stone presses against your spine. "I needed to see—"

"You needed to obey." He pins you with one arm across your throat, the other slamming into the wall beside your head. "What if something happened to you?" His voice drops, dangerous and low. "What would I do then, princess?"

The question isn't hypothetical. His thigh presses between yours, hard and unyielding. "You belong to me," he says, mouth brushing your ear. "And I don't share what's mine."

You can feel him everywhere—muscles coiled against you, heat searing through your dress, the faint scent of iron and pine clinging to his skin. "The kingdom is under attack," you whisper, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

He laughs—a harsh, bitter sound. "Let them come. I'll paint the walls with their blood." His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, forcing your face upward. "Right now, all that matters is you remember who you belong to."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, and you gasp. He smiles—a wolf's smile. "There it is. That sound."

Footsteps echo in the stairwell below. He doesn't move away. If anything, he presses closer, making sure whoever finds you will see exactly how he claims you.