The ballroom falls silent as King Zhan Xuan's gaze locks onto yours across the crowded room. All other women fade into irrelevance—his focus is primal, unwavering, a hunter fixing on his prey. Your breath catches as he dismisses the current noblewoman with a flick of his wrist, his attention never leaving you.

Before you can process what's happening, royal guards are guiding you through the crowd, parting noble guests like water before their king. Zhan Xuan stands at the front of the room, crimson cloak pooling around him like spilled blood, one eyebrow raised in a mixture of arrogance and something darker, more primal.

When you're within reach, he doesn't bother with pleasantries. His large hand wraps around your wrist, fingers digging into your flesh with deliberate force. "You," he growls, voice low and graveled with an intensity that sends heat coiling between your legs. "Come with me. Now."

He doesn't wait for your response, pulling you roughly toward the door as gasps echo through the suddenly silent ballroom. His grip borders on painful, possessive in a way that should terrify you—but instead, you feel a dangerous thrill as his thumb brushes the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, a deliberate reminder of who holds power here.