I had never seen him like that before.
The man who usually wore his coldness like a crown, who dealt with the world from behind sharp eyes and carefully measured words, had thrown away restraint. His declaration still echoed in my ears— "You are mine. Publicly and privately."—and before I could even catch my breath, he acted on those words.
Without warning, Lu Shiyuan bent and lifted me up, slinging me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing at all.
"W–What are you doing? Put me down!" I kicked weakly, my fists pounding against his back. The sound was useless compared to the solid firmness of his shoulders and the steady, unshaken rhythm of his stride.
"Struggle if you want," he said, his voice calm, almost amused, vibrating through his chest into me. "But don't expect me to listen."
He carried me through the dimly lit penthouse, the scent of wine still lingering in the air, his hand locked securely around my thighs to keep me from slipping. The casual dominance made my stomach flip strangely, not with fear—at least, not entirely—but with a heat that frightened me in a different way.
By the time he reached the bedroom, I had fallen silent. He pushed the door open with one hand, then set me down on the bed, my body sinking into the soft sheets.
I looked up at him, breathless. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the faintest shadow of stubble grazing his jaw. He was dangerous like this—untamed, eyes burning with something between fury and desire.
"Lu Shiyuan…" My voice trembled, unsteady. "You can't just—"
"I told you already," he cut me off, leaning closer, his shadow falling over me. His hand came up to cradle my face, thumb brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness despite the heat in his gaze. "You're mine. Don't test my patience by pretending otherwise."
My heart thundered, a desperate mix of confusion and anticipation. His proximity, his scent—clean yet intoxicating, with a faint trace of wine—wrapped around me, and I couldn't think straight.
"You don't even know me," I whispered weakly, trying to resist the pull.
He smiled faintly, a dangerous curve of lips. "I know enough. Enough to know you won't walk away from me."
His lips descended before I could argue further, stealing my breath in a kiss that left no room for denial. It wasn't gentle, not entirely—it was a claiming. The press of his mouth was warm, demanding, coaxing my lips apart as if he wanted to drink the very soul from me. My hands clenched in the sheets, my body betraying me as my heart stuttered painfully in my chest.
And then—like a cruel trick of fate—I breathed the wrong name.
"…Xu Zeyan…"
The name slipped out like a ghost, uninvited, and the moment it left my mouth, the atmosphere shattered.
Lu Shiyuan stilled. His lips froze above mine, and for a heartbeat, silence drowned the room. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes made my blood run cold—stormy, sharp, blazing with restrained fury.
"Say that again." His voice was low, almost deadly quiet, more terrifying than if he had shouted.
I panicked, shaking my head quickly. "I—I didn't mean—Shiyuan, I wasn't—"
But he didn't let me finish. His hand gripped my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Don't lie to me." His tone softened, but the softness was scarier, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "You dared to think of another man while I hold you?"
Tears pricked my eyes. "It was a mistake," I whispered. "I—"
"No." His lips brushed dangerously close to mine, his breath hot against my skin. "I won't forgive that mistake. Not now, not ever."
Before I could respond, he kissed me again—harder, deeper this time, like punishment. His hand slid around my waist, pulling my flush against him, the heat of his body searing into mine. I gasped against his mouth, but the sound was swallowed by his relentless claim.
"Remember this," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky, breaking through my daze. "My name. Only mine."
My resistance crumbled, replaced by something else I couldn't name. His possessiveness was overwhelming, frightening—and yet, beneath it all, my body responded with a heat that scared me even more. My heart betrayed me, racing not from fear but from an unfamiliar longing that wrapped around every nerve.
When his lips trailed from my mouth to my jaw, then down the side of my neck, I felt the sharp sting of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. Marks bloomed across my skin, each one a brand of ownership.
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice rough with emotion. "Say it."
"I…" My voice broke, caught between sobs and sighs. His gaze demanded, his hands anchored me. "…I'm yours."
The way his eyes darkened then, with satisfaction and hunger, left no doubt—he had claimed me, body and soul.
That night, I stopped thinking about the past, about Xu Zeyan, about betrayal. All I could feel was Shiyuan's presence consuming me, until the only name that mattered was his.
The next morning, the light spilling through the curtains dragged me out of exhausted sleep. My body ached in unfamiliar ways, my lips still swollen, my skin tingling where his mouth had marked me.
For a long moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what had happened. His words echoed again— "You are mine."
Flustered, I touched my neck, then froze. My fingers brushed against ridges of heat, marks scattered all over like evidence of last night's intensity. My reflection in the mirror confirmed it—faint purplish-red stains decorated my collarbone and neck, glaring proof of Lu Shiyuan's possessive claim.
My cheeks burned. What have I done?
And yet… strangely, I didn't feel regret. My heart wasn't crumbling like it had when Xu Zeyan betrayed me. Instead, I felt… steady. Secure. Even the memory of Shiyuan's lips left my pulse racing instead of breaking.
I buried my face in my hands, groaning softly. "What's happening to me?"
When I gathered the courage to look again, the bed beside me was empty. Panic prickled for a moment, but then I noticed something on the chair nearby.
A box. A dress, folded neatly inside. And a note in Shiyuan's elegant handwriting.
Pack your luggage and wear this. We are heading to our honeymoon.
I gripped the paper, my breath catching, my chest tightening in disbelief.
"H–honeymoon?" I whispered, staring at the note as if it might burn me. My heart pounded against my ribs, the word spinning through my head again and again.
Honeymoon.
What was he planning to do with me now?