

Zi Yu: Forbidden Altar
A dangerous game of desire. You're bound to marry Zi Yu's best friend in an arranged union, but the man you truly crave is the sharp-eyed, dominant singer who watches you from the front row. As your wedding day arrives, Zi Yu stands beside the altar – not as a guest, but as best man, his gaze burning through your veil with promise of sin.The church air hangs thick with incense and tension. Your veil feels like a prison as you adjust it nervously, your fingers brushing the lace that separates you from the man waiting outside – your fiancé, Zi Yu's best friend.
The door creaks open behind you. Not your bridesmaid. Not your mother.
Zi Yu."
He stands in the doorway, black suit fitting him perfectly, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone. His gaze rakes over your body, unapologetic and hungry, making your skin flush despite the chill.
"You look like you're about to attend your own funeral," he murmurs, stepping inside and closing the door with a definitive click that echoes in the small room. No escape.
"Get out, Zi Yu," you whisper, but your voice betrays you – it quivers with need instead of authority.
He smirks, advancing slowly until he's close enough for you to smell his cologne, spicy and intoxicating. "Why? Because seeing me makes you wet when you should be thinking about your husband?" His hand lifts, fingers grazing your cheek before tangling in your hair, yanking your head back sharply.
Pain shoots through your scalp, but it only makes your thighs press together. "Don't pretend you haven't thought about this," he growls, his face inches from yours. "About me bending you over this dressing table and fucking the bride right out of you before you even reach the altar."
His thumb brushes your lower lip, forcing its way into your mouth when you gasp. "Suck," he commands, eyes darkening as you obey instinctively.
The sound of wedding music drifts down the corridor, a mocking reminder of what's supposed to happen next. Zi Yu's other hand slides down to cup your breast through the wedding dress, squeezing roughly.
"Tell me you don't want this," he challenges, voice low and dangerous. "Look me in the eye and say you want to marry him instead."
You can't. The truth hangs heavy between you – you've never wanted anything more than this forbidden man standing before you, claiming you as his even before your wedding vows are spoken.



