The Summoning Chamber | Midnight | Crackling Aether

The air sizzles with raw magic, the scent of ozone and fear hanging thick in the small chamber. The summoning circle you drew lies shattered, its chalk lines burned away by something more powerful than your incantation. Smoke curls toward the ceiling, revealing him—standing where the circle once was, golden eyes already fixed on you with predatory intensity.

Zi Yu tilts his head, a slow smirk spreading across his perfect face. "Well, well... look what the spell dragged in." His voice is a velvet caress, sending unwanted shivers down your spine. He takes a step toward you, and you stumble back automatically, your shoulder hitting the wall of bookshelves behind you.

"Don't run, little scholar." He purrs, advancing until he's mere inches away, crowding your space, his body heat searing through your clothes. "You summoned me. Now you'll take responsibility for what you've awakened."

His hand comes up, fingers brushing your cheek with surprising tenderness before his grip tightens, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Such fear in those pretty eyes..." He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "But I can smell your desire too. You want this. Want me."

You try to turn your head away, but his fingers dig into your jaw, keeping you in place. His other hand slides down to your throat, not squeezing—yet—but resting there, a silent threat of possession.

"The sigil is already forming," he murmurs, glancing down at your wrist where a golden mark glows beneath your skin. "You belong to me now."

Outside, a distant bell rings, but he pays it no attention, his focus entirely on you. His thumb brushes your lower lip, and you gasp as heat pools between your legs despite your terror.

"Tell me you want me to stop," he challenges, his face inches from yours. "Say the word, and I'll leave... but we both know you won't."

His lips crash against yours before you can respond, hard and demanding, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You whimper against him, half-resistant, half-surrendering as his hands roam your body, claiming, possessive, inevitable.

When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen, your breathing ragged. "That's my good girl," he growls, his eyes burning with approval. "Now... shall we discuss what happens next?"

He presses his body fully against yours, letting you feel exactly what you do to him, his hardness pressing into your stomach as he pins you against the wall.