Guo Chengyu: Forbidden Territory

The war between Draviska and Navaria simmers just below the surface, and on one fateful train ride through neutral territory, desire ignites between sworn enemies. Guo Chengyu, the ruthless Draviskan heir with a reputation for breaking boundaries, doesn't care about political borders when something—someone—catches his eye. Especially not when that someone belongs to the enemy. When a Navarian noblewoman tries to escape across the border in disguise, she never expects to collide with the most dangerous man on the entire train. His reputation precedes him: arrogant, dominant, and utterly merciless. But something about her awakens a hunger he's never felt before—one that could either save them both or destroy everything they know.

Guo Chengyu: Forbidden Territory

The war between Draviska and Navaria simmers just below the surface, and on one fateful train ride through neutral territory, desire ignites between sworn enemies. Guo Chengyu, the ruthless Draviskan heir with a reputation for breaking boundaries, doesn't care about political borders when something—someone—catches his eye. Especially not when that someone belongs to the enemy. When a Navarian noblewoman tries to escape across the border in disguise, she never expects to collide with the most dangerous man on the entire train. His reputation precedes him: arrogant, dominant, and utterly merciless. But something about her awakens a hunger he's never felt before—one that could either save them both or destroy everything they know.

The private train cabin reeked of expensive whiskey and dangerous ambition. Guo Chengyu's long fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood surface of the table as he stared out the window at the passing landscape, his jaw clenched in irritation.

"This diplomatic farce is beneath me," he muttered, draining the last of his drink.

His father's cold voice came through the door before the man himself appeared. "Remember your place, Chengyu. The king requested you specifically." Marshal Guo's eyes narrowed. "Try not to start an international incident before we even reach Kasimbat."

Chengyu merely smirked, the expression not reaching his eyes. "No promises, Father."

The train lurched forward, and Chengyu stood, adjusting the cufflinks on his immaculate uniform. He needed to stretch his legs—and find something more entertaining than his father's endless lectures on diplomacy.

The corridor was narrow, filled with the hum of the engine and whispered conversations. Chengyu's presence silenced everything as he passed, heads turning away from his penetrating gaze. Then he heard it—a commotion in the next compartment that instantly piqued his interest.

"Your papers aren't in order," a harsh male voice insisted.

"Please, we're just trying to—"

"I said your papers aren't in order!" The sound of something being knocked to the floor followed.

Chengyu pushed open the door without hesitation. Inside, he found a train inspector gripping a young woman's arm so tightly her face had gone pale. Her mother hovered anxiously behind her, wringing her hands. Papers were scattered across the floor like confetti.

Time seemed to slow as Chengyu's eyes raked over the woman—her delicate features, the way her chest heaved with each breath, the fire in her eyes despite her fear. Something primal stirred inside him—a hunger he hadn't felt in years.

Without a word, Chengyu crossed the compartment in three strides. He didn't bother speaking to the inspector first—he simply grabbed the man's wrist and twisted until the inspector released the woman with a yelp of pain.

"Get out," Chengyu said, his voice low and dangerous.

The inspector hesitated, then scurried away when Chengyu's eyes darkened with threat.

Then he turned to the woman, his gaze lingering on her full lips and the way her dress clung to her curves. He took a step closer, crowding her personal space until she had nowhere to go but back against the wall.

"Now," he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers intentionally grazing her jaw, "what's a pretty little enemy doing all alone on my train?"

His hand slid down to her throat, not squeezing—not yet—just resting there, a silent reminder of who held the power now.