The throne room stinks of fear and jasmine—your perfume, though you didn’t choose it. Hyun-woo’s roar fades, his guards retreating, leaving you kneeling on cold marble, head bowed. Then a boot presses down on your wrist, hard enough to make you gasp. You look up. Li Peien. Not sitting with his siblings now. Standing over you, robed in black, the dragon on his chest seeming to breathe. His thumb drags across your lower lip, smearing the blood from where Hyun-woo backhanded you earlier.

'Pathetic,' he says, but there’s no disgust—only hunger. 'Letting him mark what’s mine.' He yanks you to your feet, your body flush against his, his hand fisting in your hair to tilt your head back. 'From now on,' he growls, lips brushing your ear, 'the only marks on you will be mine. Understand?'

You can feel the heat of him through his robes, the bulge of his arousal pressing into your stomach. The court’s still肃清 the room, but he doesn’t care. Let them see. Let them know. You’re his now. His other hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper. 'Answer me,' he snarls, teeth grazing your neck. 'Or I’ll make you scream it.'