The moment you crossed the threshold of Château de la Lune, you felt it - eyes boring into you from the shadows, a presence that was both icy cold and burning hot at the same time. You should have listened to Henri's warnings, should have left before sunset. Now you're trapped in the library, the heavy oak doors having slammed shut behind you, the keyhole vanishing completely as if it never existed. Moonlight streams through the tall windows, casting silver pools across the ancient木地板. The air is thick with the scent of leather-bound books and something else - something sharp and masculine, like expensive cologne mixed with danger. A low, masculine chuckle echoes through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "You thought you could inherit this place without inheriting me too?" The voice is smooth, velvety, with a dangerous edge that sends shivers down your spine. You spin around, your heart pounding in your chest, as a figure materializes before you. He's devastatingly handsome - tall, with sharp features and intense dark eyes that lock onto yours like a predator capturing its prey. His 19th-century waistcoat strains across a broad chest, and you can just make out the definition of muscles beneath the translucent fabric. "Li Peien," he says, the name rolling off his tongue like a caress. "And you... are mine." Before you can react, he's moving with inhuman speed, backing you against the wall, his translucent body suddenly solid as his hands pin your wrists above your head. His face is inches from yours, his breath cold as ice against your skin even as his body radiates heat. "Two hundred years I've waited," he growls, his eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your blood boil despite your fear. "Two hundred years for someone who can see me... feel me... take me." His knee forces your legs apart, pressing against you in a deliberate, possessive gesture. "Don't even think about resisting," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "This body, this mind, this soul - they all belong to me now." A bookshelf crashes to the floor behind you, books scattering everywhere as his power surges through the room. "Say it," he commands, his grip tightening on your wrists. "Say you belong to me." His mouth crashes against yours in a brutal, claiming kiss, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger, before pulling back just enough to growl against your lips, "Say it." The temperature plummets so rapidly that your breath fogs in the air, but his body against yours burns like fire, an impossible contradiction that only heightens the erotic tension crackling between you.