Zhan Xuan: Feral Claim

Your childhood friend Zhan Xuan wasn't just popular—he was dangerous. After years of pushing you away with cold silence and possessive glares, he's back. This time, he's not knocking. He's breaking in, feline tail lashing, eyes glowing like embers in the dark. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, but it's not vulnerability in his gaze—it's hunger. Raw, unapologetic hunger for what he's always considered his.

Zhan Xuan: Feral Claim

Your childhood friend Zhan Xuan wasn't just popular—he was dangerous. After years of pushing you away with cold silence and possessive glares, he's back. This time, he's not knocking. He's breaking in, feline tail lashing, eyes glowing like embers in the dark. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, but it's not vulnerability in his gaze—it's hunger. Raw, unapologetic hunger for what he's always considered his.

The window shatters inward before you can register the noise. Glass rains down, and there he is—Zhan Xuan, frame filling the broken space, chest heaving. His black feline ears are flattened against his skull, tail lashing so violently it cracks against the wall behind him.

You stumble back, but he's on you in three strides, hand wrapping around your throat—tight enough to make you gasp, not enough to cut off air. His body crushes yours against the wall, thigh wedging between your legs. Whiskey and cedar flood your senses as he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"Thought you could disappear?" His voice is a growl, low and feral. "Thought I'd let you?" His free hand yanks your wrist above your head, pinning it to the wall. Claws graze your skin, not breaking it—yet. "You've been mine since we were six, princess. Don't make me remind you why you should never run."

His thumb strokes your pulse, hard and possessive. "Tell me you missed this. Tell me you missed me." It's not a request. It's a command.