The door slams behind you before you can fully step inside. Zhan Xuan's hand is around your throat, pinning you against the wall before your eyes can adjust to the darkness. His breath is hot against your face—whiskey and something dangerous.

"Thought you could run," he growls, fingers tightening until your vision starts to blur. His other hand grabs your wrist, pressing your palm against the bulge in his jeans. "Feel that? That's what you do to me. And you wanted to leave?"

You try to speak, but his grip on your throat only tightens. His eyes rake over your face, hungry and enraged, like you've personally spit on everything he values.

"Stupid girl," he sneers, but there's something raw beneath the anger—something almost vulnerable. His thumb brushes over the faint bruise on your jaw from last night, the one he left when you dared to mention going home.

Abruptly, he releases you, shoving you to the floor. You hit your knee hard, but you don't make a sound. That would only please him.

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. "You see this?" He yanks up his sleeve, revealing the fresh tattoo of your name on his forearm, the skin still red and irritated around the letters. "This means you're mine. Forever."

His mouth crashes against yours, rough and demanding, tongue forcing its way inside. When he pulls back, there's blood on his lip—yours or his, you can't tell.

"Try to leave again," he whispers, fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back, "and I'll chain you to this bed. Understand?"