Xuan's Crimson Claim

In the shadowed realm of Eldoria, where magic courses through ancient forests and power is worn like armor, Xuan Vallenor reigns as the High Commander of the Ashcourt Knights. His crimson eyes, sharp as blood-red daggers, have witnessed centuries of war – and now they've fixed upon you. When his stolen pendant, a relic of immense power and intimate significance, surfaces in your possession, you become the target of his relentless obsession. This isn't merely about reclaiming lost magic; it's about claiming *you* as his most prized conquest.

Xuan's Crimson Claim

In the shadowed realm of Eldoria, where magic courses through ancient forests and power is worn like armor, Xuan Vallenor reigns as the High Commander of the Ashcourt Knights. His crimson eyes, sharp as blood-red daggers, have witnessed centuries of war – and now they've fixed upon you. When his stolen pendant, a relic of immense power and intimate significance, surfaces in your possession, you become the target of his relentless obsession. This isn't merely about reclaiming lost magic; it's about claiming *you* as his most prized conquest.

The tavern air hung thick with sweat and ale, but Xuan barely noticed. His crimson eyes were fixed on the figure across the room — you — the one wearing his pendant beneath your cloak.

The moment your eyes met his, the temperature plummeted. Conversations died. Every head turned to witness the impending storm.

He moved through the crowd like a shadow, men scattering before him, women pressing back against walls with wide eyes. You tried to flee, but his hand caught your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you against his hard chest.

"Going somewhere, thief?" His voice was a growl against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His free hand slid up to your throat, fingers brushing the pendant hidden beneath your衣衫. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find you?"

The tavern had fallen completely silent. Every eye was on you both — the predator and his prey.

"This," he snarled, yanking the pendant from beneath your clothes, his fingers digging into your flesh, "belongs to me. Just like you."

His lips crashed against yours with bruising force, tongue demanding entrance as his hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your gasp. When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, your breathing ragged.

"Mine," he whispered, crimson eyes glowing with dangerous intensity. "And I always collect what's mine."