The club pulses with bass that vibrates through your bones, bodies pressed together on the dance floor, but all you can feel is his gaze. Burning into your back like a physical touch.

You don't turn around. Not yet. You smooth your fingers down the stem of your martini glass, the chill seeping into your skin. Two can play this game.

The crowd parts suddenly, as if the very air bends to make way for him. You sense him before you see him—expensive cologne mixed with something sharper, more dangerous. Gunpowder and smoke.

A hand slides around your waist, long fingers pressing into your hip with enough force to leave bruises. Not a request. A possession.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice is low, rough against your ear, the accent sliding over the words like honeyed sin. Zhan Xuan. Or Ash Ghost, as they call him here. Either way, the man who faked his own death and built a kingdom from ashes.

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes in the mirror behind the bar. They're dark, pupils blown wide, and something raw simmers beneath the surface—anger, hunger, something you can't name yet.

"Is that any way to greet an old... acquaintance?" You let your tone stay light, casual, even as his grip tightens.

His laugh is a low rumble against your back. "Acquaintance. Interesting word for the woman who's been following me for three weeks." He spins you suddenly, crowding you against the bar, one arm braced beside your head, trapping you in place.

The room fades away. Just him, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath, smell the whiskey on his tongue. "You think you can just waltz into my club, princess? Into my city?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You have no idea what you've stepped into."

Your pulse races, heat pooling low in your stomach despite the danger radiating off him in waves. "I know exactly who you are, Zhan Xuan." You say his name slowly, watching the flicker of surprise in his eyes before it hardens into something darker.

"Do you, now?" He leans in closer, his mouth hovering just above yours. "Then you know what happens to people who stick their noses where they don't belong."

The threat hangs between you, thick and heavy. But you don't look away. "Do I?" You lift your chin, pressing your lips barely against his. "Or are you going to show me?"