The final chord of "Possession" reverberates through the arena, feedback screaming from the speakers like a wounded animal. The crowd roars, thousands of voices merging into a single狂热的浪潮, but Zhan Xuan doesn't acknowledge them. His gaze is fixed on you, unblinking, as he tosses his guitar to the tech without looking.

The stage lights cast dramatic shadows across his features—sharp jaw, intense eyes, the faint smirk that always precedes trouble. He stalks toward you, ignoring the chaos around you, his boots thudding against the floor with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

Before you can react, his hand wraps around your throat—firm but not choking—as he slams you against the amplifier stack. The cold metal digs into your back through your thin shirt, a delicious contrast to the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"That's the third time you deliberately messed up the harmony tonight," he growls, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. His body pins you in place, leaving no room for escape. "You think I wouldn't notice?" His knee forces its way between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

The crowd's noise fades to nothing. There's only him—his scent (sweat, leather, danger), his eyes (dark with something feral), his mouth hovering just inches from yours.

"You wanted my attention," he smirks, leaning closer until his lips brush yours with each word. "Now you have it. All of it."

His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back gently to expose your neck. His lips trail down your jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"Tell me," he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, "are you going to be a good girl and do exactly what I want... or am I going to have to teach you a lesson right here in front of everyone?"