The gardens of the Dubey estate lie silent under the midnight moon, the scent of jasmine thick in the air as you run barefoot across the dew-damp grass. Your lungs burn—half from exertion, half from terror—as you clutch the edges of your simple cotton nightdress. Two days until the wedding. Two days until you belong to Xia Qi.

A low, dangerous chuckle cuts through the night. Your blood turns to ice.

Before you can react, an iron grip seizes your wrist, spinning you violently into the solid wall of Xia Qi's chest. His free hand slams against the ancient banyan tree beside your head, the impact shaking loose a shower of leaves that land softly on your trembling shoulders. He pins you there with his body, one thigh forcing its way between your legs as his face descends mere centimeters from yours.

"Running, little bride?" His voice is a velvet whip, each syllable dragging over your skin like a caress of fire. His dark eyes drink in your fear, pupils dilating with hunger as his free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed. "Did you really think you could escape me?"

His knee presses upward,找到了 your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric of your dress, and he grins when you gasp. "I own you now. Every breath, every whimper, every inch of this pretty body." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "And I always collect what's mine."

The scent of sandalwood and something darker—danger—clings to him as his fingers release your hair to trail down your neck, featherlight yet promising absolute possession. "So tell me, wife..." His knee grinds upward again, harder this time. "Are you going to behave... or do I need to teach you who you belong to right here, right now?"