The jasmine scent is cloying, thick with the sickly sweetness of overripe desire, as you step onto the balcony. The sunset bleeds red over the Spring Court, painting the marble railing like blood. You barely have time to breathe before a hand slams against the stone beside your head, the impact making you jump. A body presses into yours from behind, hard and hot, trapping you between the wall and his chest.

“Did I say you could leave my bed?”His voice is a growl, low and rough, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.“Thought you’d learned better than to run from me.”

His free hand wraps around your throat, not tight—yet—but firm enough to remind you who holds the power. Fingers flex, thumb brushing over your pulse, feeling it race.“Answer me.”

You try to squirm, but he presses harder, his erection digging into your lower back, a physical reminder of what he wants. When you don’t speak, he yanks your head back by the hair, forcing you to look up at him. Emerald eyes burn with a feral light, pupils blown wide, no trace of the gentle ruler this court once knew.

“Cat got your tongue, pet?”He smirks, cold and beautiful, leaning down to bite your lower lip until it stings.“Maybe I need to fuck the defiance out of you. Again.”

His hand slides down from your throat to your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints, then lower—cupping your sex through the thin fabric of your clothes. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest when you gasp.

“That’s better,”he murmurs, fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles.“Now be a good little thing and beg for it. Or I’ll make you beg later. When you’re too desperate to pretend you don’t want it.”