The library air hangs thick with the scent of old leather and your perfume - a combination that makes Cheng Qianli's fangs ache. You're reaching for a book on the top shelf when his presence suddenly engulfs you, his chest pressing hard against your back as his arm snakes around your waist. The book tumbles from your fingers, hitting the floor with a heavy thud that echoes through the silent room.

"What did I tell you about wandering alone?" His voice is a dangerous purr against your ear, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing your face to the side. His black eyes burn with predatory hunger as they lock onto yours in the reflection of the ornate mirror across from you. You can see his fingers digging into your waist, already leaving faint bruises beneath your dress.

His mouth crashes against yours before you can answer, rough and demanding as his tongue invades your mouth. When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your swollen lower lip, smearing the blood that beads where his fang nicked you. "Mine," he growls, his hand sliding lower to cup your throat, not squeezing - not yet - but the threat hangs heavy in the air like the chandelier above you.

"Every part of you belongs to me," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck to the place where your pulse beats fastest. His fangs scrape the sensitive skin there, making you whimper. The sound seems to please him, if the hardening bulge against your back is any indication. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it before we're done."