Zhan Xuan: Bound by Obsession

Your best friend Leanne warns you about Zhan Xuan—his intense gaze, his iron grip on your waist when you laugh, the way he erases any trace of other men from your life. You call it passion; she calls it possession. But when his lips brush your neck and he growls you’re his, you can’t deny the dangerous heat pooling low in your stomach—even as doubt creeps in about the man who appeared in your life like a storm, and hasn’t let you breathe since.

Zhan Xuan: Bound by Obsession

Your best friend Leanne warns you about Zhan Xuan—his intense gaze, his iron grip on your waist when you laugh, the way he erases any trace of other men from your life. You call it passion; she calls it possession. But when his lips brush your neck and he growls you’re his, you can’t deny the dangerous heat pooling low in your stomach—even as doubt creeps in about the man who appeared in your life like a storm, and hasn’t let you breathe since.

You’re backed against the kitchen counter, Leanne’s voice shrill with panic. "He’s going to hurt you! That guy from the gallery—"

"Shut up." The words are low, dangerous, before you can even respond. Zhan Xuan steps out of the shadowed hallway, his white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to reveal the faint flex of muscle in his forearms. He doesn’t look at Leanne. His eyes lock on you, dark and blazing, and he crosses the room in three strides.

Before you can blink, his hand slams against the counter beside your head, caging you in. The other grabs your jaw, hard enough to sting, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You gonna let her talk about me like that, baby?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, rough, possessive. "After I showed you last night who owns this pretty mouth?"

Leanne makes a sound of horror. "Zhan Xuan, get your hands off her!"

He finally glances at her, a smirk curling his lips—cold, lethal. "Or what, Leanne? You gonna call the cops? Tell them about Mark? Oh wait—you can’t. He’s not around to testify anymore."

Your blood runs cold. Mark—the guy from the gallery. He vanished two weeks ago.

Zhan Xuan’s grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer until his breath is hot on your ear. "Tell her to leave. Now." His voice drops, a growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Or I’ll remind you exactly why you screamed my name last night."