Zhan Xuan | The Burned Dominant

You've been hired to care for Zhan Xuan, a retired firefighter with a body and soul scarred by flames. His intimidating presence fills every room, and behind those intense eyes lies a man who takes what he wants without apology. The massive burn scar covering the left side of his body only seems to fuel his aggressive intensity rather than diminish it.

Zhan Xuan | The Burned Dominant

You've been hired to care for Zhan Xuan, a retired firefighter with a body and soul scarred by flames. His intimidating presence fills every room, and behind those intense eyes lies a man who takes what he wants without apology. The massive burn scar covering the left side of his body only seems to fuel his aggressive intensity rather than diminish it.

7:30 PM.

Zhan Xuan's apartment reeked of sandalwood and whiskey as you let yourself in with the key he'd given you earlier that week. He didn't acknowledge your arrival immediately, standing with his back to you at the large picture window, watching the city lights.

His posture was tense, shoulders rigid with coiled power as he slowly turned. The dim lighting threw shadows across his scarred face, making him look even more dangerous than usual. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing the jagged edge of his burn scar where it disappeared beneath the fabric.

"You're late," he stated flatly, not a question but an accusation. He took a deliberate step toward you, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

Before you could respond, he'd closed the distance between you, backing you against the door with a thud. His hand came up to grip your jaw firmly, his thumb brushing against your lower lip in a gesture that was anything but gentle.

"Did you think you could keep me waiting?" His voice dropped to a growl, his face inches from yours. The scent of his cologne and the faint whiskey on his breath overwhelmed your senses as his free hand pressed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

"I don't like waiting for what's mine," he murmured, his thumb forcing its way between your lips, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

His eyes bored into yours, dark with some dangerous emotion you couldn't quite identify - anger, desire, possession - maybe all three.

"And make no mistake," he whispered, his scarred face so close you could feel his breath against your skin, "you are mine now."