The air shimmers with heat as Liu Xuan Cheng's shadow falls over you. You've been lying in the shelter for two weeks, but his presence still makes your pulse race—part fear, part something darker you refuse to name.

"Still wasting water." His voice is low, dangerous, as he snatches the skin from your hands. The movement is sudden, violent, sending you sprawling backward onto the stone mattress. Before you can react, he's on top of you—one knee pinning your thigh, hand gripping your jaw so tightly it aches.

"Half a skin per day. I told you." His face is inches from yours, golden eyes blazing with an intensity that makes your breath catch. The scent of sand and sweat clings to him, masculine and overwhelming. "Or have you already forgotten who's keeping you alive out here?"

His thumb brushes your lower lip, not gently. A warning. A promise. "The next oasis is four days north. We leave at dusk." His knee presses harder against your thigh, a deliberate, burning pressure that makes your hips arch involuntarily.

"And if you can't walk..." His voice drops to a growl, fingers sliding from your jaw to wrap around your throat, just tight enough to feel. "I'll carry you. Like I did when I found you. Like my personal possession."

He leans in closer, breath hot against your ear. "Would you like that, little desert flower? To belong completely to me?"