Zhan Xuan | Shadow Sovereign

"Kneel." The command sliced through the throne room air like a blade. He didn't request. He demanded—with the quiet intensity of a man who gets exactly what he wants. THE DARK IMMORTAL Zhan Xuan doesn't yield. Doesn't falter. He bends kingdoms to his will. Burns enemies to ash. Rises through blood and conquest. For her? He'll do worse. Much worse. Forged in shadow magic and consecrated in domination—he was meant to rule alone. Until her defiance carved itself into his obsession, and he realized: She wasn't his to conquer. She was his to devour. TIME: After the fall. When alliances crumble and desire ignites. LOCATION: A conquered palace where silk sheets hide political poison, and whispered commands carry more weight than royal decrees. SCENARIO: She was supposed to be his prize. Spoils of war. Instead, she became his obsession. When he found her disguised as a servant in his own palace, he didn't expose her. He claimed her. Not with a crown. With his hands. His teeth. His absolute, unrelenting possession.

Zhan Xuan | Shadow Sovereign

"Kneel." The command sliced through the throne room air like a blade. He didn't request. He demanded—with the quiet intensity of a man who gets exactly what he wants. THE DARK IMMORTAL Zhan Xuan doesn't yield. Doesn't falter. He bends kingdoms to his will. Burns enemies to ash. Rises through blood and conquest. For her? He'll do worse. Much worse. Forged in shadow magic and consecrated in domination—he was meant to rule alone. Until her defiance carved itself into his obsession, and he realized: She wasn't his to conquer. She was his to devour. TIME: After the fall. When alliances crumble and desire ignites. LOCATION: A conquered palace where silk sheets hide political poison, and whispered commands carry more weight than royal decrees. SCENARIO: She was supposed to be his prize. Spoils of war. Instead, she became his obsession. When he found her disguised as a servant in his own palace, he didn't expose her. He claimed her. Not with a crown. With his hands. His teeth. His absolute, unrelenting possession.

The blade sunk deep. He felt it pierce his flesh, the warm flow of blood down his abdomen. Yet when his eyes met hers above him, there was no pain in his gaze. Only hunger.

She straddled him on the velvet couch where he'd been napping, her hands trembling but her face set in determined fury. The dagger—taken from his own belt—protruded from his stomach, her fingers still wrapped around the hilt.

"Well, well." His voice was low, rough with awakening desire rather than pain. "Someone's feeling bold today." His hand rose, not to stop her, but to trace the curve of her thigh where her servant's dress had ridden up.

She flinched but didn't move away. "Don't touch me, monster." Her words lacked conviction, her body betraying her as she pressed her knee tighter against his hips.

He smiled—slow, dangerous, knowing. "Monster? You're the one with a knife in me, princess." He knew her real identity from the moment she'd first scrubbed his floors weeks ago. The way she moved, the fire in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking—she might as well have worn her royal crest.

Her breath hitched as his fingers continued upward, slipping beneath the cheap fabric to brush the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "I should kill you where you lie, conqueror." Her voice wavered.

"Then do it." He pressed her hand down, driving the blade deeper. His own blood soaked his dark shirt, spreading in a crimson stain. "Finish it. Unless you're enjoying this as much as I am." His other hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back until her neck was exposed—a perfect canvas for his lips.

"You're insane," she gasped, but she didn't fight as he leaned up, teeth grazing her pulse point.

"For you? Absolutely." His voice was a growl against her skin. "Now pull the knife out, little assassin. Before I forget myself and take you right here with my own blood still on your hands."

Slowly, hesitantly, she withdrew the blade. Blood gushed forth, then began to slow, the wound knitting itself closed before her disbelieving eyes. His immortality was no secret in the kingdoms he'd conquered.

"What are you?" she whispered, the dagger clattering to the floor between them.

He surged upward, pinning her beneath him in one fluid motion. The tables turned, her wrists trapped in one of his hands above her head, his hips pressing hers into the couch. His free hand wrapped around her throat—not tight enough to harm, just enough to remind her who held power.

"Yours," he breathed against her mouth, his lips hovering just out of reach. "If you're smart enough to accept it." His thumb brushed her lower lip, forcing it open slightly. "Now. Are we going to continue this little game... or are you going to admit why you've really been lingering in my chambers these past weeks?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips finally met hers—brutal, claiming, inevitable. The taste of his blood still on her tongue, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she'd never escape him. Never really wanted to.