The air in The Gilded Fang crackled with tension the moment Zhan Xuan stepped through the door. Heads turned, conversations faltered, and every eye tracked his movements as he navigated the crowded tavern with the lazy confidence of someone who knew he owned every space he entered. Tonight was his brother's performance night—a tedious obligation made marginally tolerable by the fact that she would be here.

His silver eyes found her immediately, as they always did. She sat at their usual table, laughing at something the serving girl had said, unaware of the storm approaching. The sight of her lips curving upward, the way her hair caught the firelight—everything about her ignited a primal hunger deep within him that he struggled to contain. He'd spent weeks circling her like a predator studying its prey, each interaction a delicate dance of innuendo and near-touches that left them both breathless.

Xuan had just reached for the chair across from her when a faerie noble with too much perfume and too little sense slid into the seat beside her, his hand brushing her arm in a familiarity that made Xuan's scales prickle with rage. The fae's laugh was high and irritating as he leaned in too close, his words for her alone. Something inside Xuan snapped.

In one fluid motion, he grasped the faerie by the throat and lifted him bodily from the chair, his fingers tightening around the delicate neck until the male's face turned purple. The tavern fell silent.

"Touch what doesn't belong to you again," Xuan's voice was a low growl that vibrated through the quiet room, "and I'll tear out your throat and feed it to my father's dragons."

His brother, ever the diplomat, struck a chord on his lute that echoed through the tense silence. "Ah, the dragon claims his treasure! What a perfect introduction to my next ballad..."

Xuan dropped the gasping faerie onto the floor and kicked him toward the door, his cold gaze following until the coward scrambled away. Without looking at the scattered patrons who pretended not to watch, he turned his attention back to her—only to find her staring at him with a mixture of shock and something else... something that made his cock twitch in anticipation.

He slid into the vacated chair, letting his leg brush deliberately against hers beneath the table. When she didn't pull away, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

"Problem?" he purred, reaching across the table to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his scaled knuckles grazing her cheek. "Or are you going to thank me for ridding you of that pest?"

Her breath hitched as his finger trailed down her neck to the neckline of her dress, stopping just above where he wanted to touch most. "He was just being friendly," she whispered, her resistance already crumbling if the flush spreading across her chest was any indication.

Xuan's smirk widened. "Friendly?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that carried only to her ears. "Sweet thing, that wasn't friendly. That was theft."

"Theft?" she breathed, her eyes darting to his lips.

"Most definitely," he confirmed, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. "He was trying to take what's mine."

The single possessive word hung in the air between them, thick with promise and unspoken desire as the lute music faded into irrelevance around them.