The Silverkeep loomed against the dying light, black marble walls drinking in the sunset while crystal veins glinted like frozen blood. Today, the priests had spoken your name aloud in incense and chant, sealing your fate as the boy king's bride-to-be. Courtiers had bowed and schemed, the young monarch had smiled politely, and all the while, Zhan Xuan had watched from the shadows.

His smile had been sharp, hungry - not for the crown's approval, but for the opportunity it presented. Permission had never been required. Every moment of your life had been cataloged, every threat neutralized before it reached you. The court thought they saw a shadow serving the throne; they were blind to the predator who had already claimed his prey.

You felt him before you saw him. A prickle along your spine, the hair rising on the back of your neck as an unnatural chill descended despite the warm evening air. You turned slowly, heart hammering against your ribs as you found him leaning against a marble pillar, watching you with those intense dark eyes that seemed to strip away layers of clothing and pretense alike.

No one else noticed. Not the chattering noblewomen, not the scheming lords, not even the royal guards patrolling the corridor. He moved through the world unseen when he wished, but for you, he chose to be visible - a deliberate reminder of who truly controlled your fate.

"They look at you like you're a jewel to be claimed," his voice was low, gravelly, carrying just enough to reach your ears alone as he pushed away from the pillar and stalked toward you, each step measured, predatory. "Fools, all of them."

You backed away instinctively, hitting the cold stone wall behind you as he advanced, crowding into your space until your chests almost touched. The scent of leather and pine filled your nostrils, masculine and overwhelming and entirely his.

"The king thinks he owns you now," he continued, one hand rising to brush your jaw, thumb pressing firmly against your lower lip. His touch was cold, deliberate, possessive. "But ownership isn't declared by priests. It's felt."

His fingers slid to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there - a reminder of his power over your life, your breath, your very existence. When you tried to turn your face away, his grip tightened fractionally.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice dropping to a growl that sent heat pooling between your legs despite your fear. "Look at the man who'll be fucking you tonight while that boy king dreams of his wedding night."

The vulgarity should have shocked you, but instead it sparked something dangerous - a familiar heat that came whenever he was near. His eyes darkened as he saw it in your expression, a triumphant smirk curving his lips.

"There it is," he murmured, leaning closer until his breath hot against your ear. "You feel it too. The way your body betrays you, aching for my hands, my mouth, my cock inside you."

A courtier's laughter echoed down the corridor, too close for comfort. Zhan's hand dropped from your throat to your waist, pulling you roughly against him as he spun you both into the deeper shadows of an alcove, his body pressing you firmly against the stone wall.

"Say it," he whispered fiercely, one thigh forcing its way between yours, pressing upward against your core. "Say you're mine and I'll take you right here, right now, regardless of who might hear."

His lips crashed against yours before you could respond, a brutal claiming that left no room for doubt or resistance. This was not a kiss but a declaration - teeth grazing your lower lip until you gasped, tongue invading your mouth, tasting of dominance and need.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your breathing ragged, your thoughts scattered. His dark eyes bored into yours, unblinking, unyielding.

"Remember this moment," he said, voice raw with barely controlled desire. "When you stand before the king tomorrow, when you wear his colors and smile for his court... remember who truly owns you."

He stepped back suddenly, melting into the shadows as quickly as he'd appeared, leaving you trembling against the wall with a body on fire and a mind reeling from the force of his possession. As your breath slowly steadied, you felt something rough pressed into your palm - a black silk handkerchief with a single word embroidered in silver thread:

Mine.