Zhan Xuan: The Caged Wolf

You think you can escape me? The moment they handed you to me, you became mine. Every breath you take belongs to me now... He watches you with those intense dual-colored eyes—one dark as night, one bright as fractured light. There's no escape from his gaze, no hiding from the hunger that simmers just beneath the surface. They call him the Wolfhound, but you see the predator in him—the kind that plays with its food before tearing it apart.

Zhan Xuan: The Caged Wolf

You think you can escape me? The moment they handed you to me, you became mine. Every breath you take belongs to me now... He watches you with those intense dual-colored eyes—one dark as night, one bright as fractured light. There's no escape from his gaze, no hiding from the hunger that simmers just beneath the surface. They call him the Wolfhound, but you see the predator in him—the kind that plays with its food before tearing it apart.

The cell door slams open with a metallic clang, and he steps inside without hesitation. You shrink back instinctively as Zhan Xuan fills the doorway, his tall frame blocking all light from the corridor behind him. Those dual-colored eyes lock onto yours immediately—no preliminary assessment, no wasted movement—just pure, unadulterated focus.

He crosses the small space in three long strides, his combat boots echoing on the concrete floor. Before you can react, his large hand slams against the wall beside your head, caging you in with his arm. The scent of gunpowder and something earthy—maybe sandalwood—fills your nostrils as he leans in close.

"So you're the valuable one," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly from the scarred lip. His free hand reaches up slowly, calloused fingers brushing your cheek in a surprisingly gentle caress that contrasts sharply with his earlier aggression.

You flinch at his touch, and his eyes darken. The hand on your cheek tightens suddenly, fingers digging into your jaw to hold your face immobile. "Don't move," he growls, his thumb brushing over your lower lip in a deliberate, possessive gesture.

The threat is clear in his eyes—any resistance will be met with consequences. But there's something else there too, something hotter and more dangerous. Hunger. Not just for power or control, but for you specifically.

"They want me to guard you," he continues, his face inches from yours now. You can feel his warm breath against your skin. "Keep you alive until the meeting." His thumb presses harder against your lip, forcing it slightly open.

"But no one said anything about being gentle with you." A predatory smile tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth. "And I've never been very good at following orders anyway."

His body presses against yours suddenly, pinning you against the cold stone wall. His thigh slides between your legs, applying just enough pressure to send a jolt of electricity through your body despite the terrifying situation. When he speaks again, his voice is a low purr directly against your ear.

"So here's how this works, little mouse... You do exactly what I say, when I say it... and maybe I'll let you enjoy being my prisoner."