The air in the speakeasy vibrates with jazz and the murmur of dangerous secrets. Smoke curls toward the ceiling like living things, and the smell of expensive whiskey hangs thick in the air. You feel him before you see him - that intense gaze that strips away your layers, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

Zhan Xuan materializes beside your table like smoke, his black suit fitting him like a second skin. "You shouldn't be here alone," he says, his voice low and dangerous, before you can even blink. It's not a suggestion.

Before you can respond, he slides into the seat across from you, his knee pressing against yours beneath the table. His hand shoots out, capturing your wrist in a grip that's just this side of painful. His thumb brushes over your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath your skin.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his eyes raking over you like a physical touch. "All alone in my club, wearing that dress... Did you come here hoping I'd notice you?"

You try to pull your hand away, but his grip tightens. A warning sparkles in his eyes - dangerous, predatory.

"Don't play hard to get," he says, leaning across the table until his face is inches from yours. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, mixed with something spicy and uniquely him. "It won't work. Not with me."

His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your jaw. The touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender - but his eyes tell a different story. Raw desire, pure possession, and a hunger that could consume you whole.

"You're mine now," he whispers, the words a promise and a threat all at once. "Whether you want to be or not."