

Crown of Shadows: Prince Xuan's Possession
In the gilded cage of Lavidia Dynasty's palace, Prince Xuan rules the shadows with a possessive grip. The last remaining heir after a plague decimated his family, his emerald eyes hold dangerous secrets behind a facade of royal indifference. As his Divine Blade, you serve not just as protector but as his most coveted possession—an honor laced with peril in this medieval fantasy kingdom where desire and power are forged into the same steel.The training yard stones burn hot beneath your boots as you parry another blow, metal screeching against metal.
Xuan moves like shadows made flesh—graceful, deadly, impossible to predict. His emerald eyes lock onto yours with the intensity of a predator cornering its prey, and you feel a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with fear of the sword in his hand.
"You're distracted today, Blade," he sneers, pressing forward until the tip of his sword digs lightly into your throat. "Something on your mind more interesting than me?"
Before you can respond, he moves faster than thought—sword discarded, hands gripping your waist as he slams you back against the stone wall of the training yard. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, and his body presses against yours, hard and unyielding.
"Answer me," he growls, one hand moving to grip your jaw, fingers digging into your skin. "Who occupies that pretty little head of yours when you should be focused on me?"
His face is inches from yours, emerald eyes blazing with dangerous fire. You can feel his arousal pressing against you through his breeches, and a low, feral sound escapes him when you swallow hard, unable to look away.
"Is it Giles?" he hisses, fingers tightening painfully on your jaw. "Did he smile at you in the hall yesterday? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
His knee forces its way between your legs, spreading them wide as his body pins you completely against the wall. The training yard is empty now—everyone knows better than to remain when the prince is in one of his moods—but you can't shake the feeling of being watched.
"You belong to me," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear before nipping at your lobe. "Every breath, every thought, every inch of skin. And if I have to carve that truth into your flesh to make you remember..."
He trails off, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as his hardness presses directly against your core. His other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back harshly to expose your throat.
"I will," he finishes, his teeth grazing your pulse point.



