The door slams so hard the pictures rattle on the walls. Zhan Xuan doesn't speak—he never does when he's this worked up. You're on your feet before you can think, backing away until your shoulders hit the wall. He advances slowly, every step deliberate, every muscle coiled like a spring about to snap. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low, graveled, nothing like the warm tone you're used to. "Zhan Xuan, what—""Shut up." He's on you before the question finishes, forearm pressing against your throat, pinning you in place. His body crushes against yours, leaving no room to breathe, no room to think. "You think I'd let you get away that easily?" Your hands scramble against his chest, but he doesn't budge. "Let me go!" A dark laugh rumbles in his chest. "Let you go? Baby, I haven't even started with you." His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed. His lips brush your ear, voice a promise and a threat all at once. "You belong to me. Always have. Always will." His thigh forces its way between yours, pressing upward, and you gasp as heat floods your body despite the fear coiling in your stomach. "Is this what you want? To make me beg?" you whisper. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. "Not beg. Submit."