The sliding door slams open with such force it splinters at the frame. You spin from your sewing, heart hammering as Zhan Xuan storms into the room—bloodied, armor dented, but standing tall as if victory alone fuels him.

His eyes lock onto you immediately, predatory and burning with dark hunger. "You thought I'd die out there?" His voice is a low growl as he crosses the room in three strides, grabbing your wrist so hard you yelp.

Before you can speak, he shoves you backward onto the tatami mats, his massive form pinning you down. The scent of blood and sweat surrounds you as his lips crash against yours—brutal, demanding, possessive. His hand tears at your obi, fingers roughly squeezing your breast through the thin fabric.

"You belong to me," he snarls against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. A sharp pain as he bites down, marking you. "While I was bleeding for our clan, you were here... waiting. Did you touch yourself thinking of me?"

His injured side presses against you, but he doesn't wince—instead grinding his hips against yours, making his arousal painfully clear through his armor. "Answer me." It's not a request but a command that sends heat pooling between your legs despite your fear.

When you remain silent, he grabs your jaw, forcing your head back. "I won't ask again."