Pov Author
Night had swallowed the training grounds whole.
The torches were few, their flames weak against the vast darkness stretching above the ruined kingdom. The air smelled of iron and cold stone—familiar, unforgiving.
Shou Feng walked without purpose.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
Then—
Thwack.
An arrow struck stone.
Missed.
He stopped.
Another arrow followed, sharp and impatient.
Thwack.
Miss.
Shou Feng slowly turned his head.
The sound was wrong. Not careless. Not clumsy. It was angry. Stubborn. Like someone fighting the world with their bare hands.
Anna.
She stood alone on the far side of the training grounds. The target was no longer where it had been in the morning. She had moved it—placed it opposite, farther away, deliberately harder.
As if punishing herself.
Her hair was tied back loosely, strands clinging to her neck. Her shoulders were rigid. Every movement was too tight, too controlled.
She drew the bow again.
Miss.
Her breath broke, sharp and uneven.
Shou Feng leaned against a pillar, arms folding slowly. He didn't interrupt. Didn't mock. Didn't help.
He watched.
Again.
Miss.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for another arrow.
He spoke suddenly, voice low and cutting through the night.
"You're wasting arrows."
Anna flinched.
The arrow slipped from her hand and hit the ground with a dull clatter.
She turned so fast it was almost violent.
"You scared me," she snapped.
Shou Feng tilted his head slightly. "Good."
Her eyes burned. "Go away."
He didn't move. "You're shooting wrong."
"I didn't ask."
"You're stubborn."
She laughed once, sharp and bitter. "And you're annoying. Now leave."
She turned her back on him and raised the bow again.
Miss.
Shou Feng sighed.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
Another arrow.
Miss.
"Look at you," he continued calmly. "You're angry, distracted, and pretending it's about training."
That did it.
She spun around. "Why do you even care?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't."
"Then leave me alone."
"Then stop making noise."
Silence fell heavy between them.
Anna's jaw tightened. "You don't know why I'm annoyed."
Shou Feng frowned slightly. "Then tell me."
She scoffed. "You seriously don't know?"
A memory surfaced—clear, unwanted.
Have you even seen yourself ?
He hadn't thought much of it then. It was blunt. Honest. Nothing more.
But now—
He watched her grip the bow like it was the only thing keeping her standing.
"…My words," he said slowly, "hurt you."
She laughed again, but this time it wasn't sharp. It was tired. "Wow. Congratulations. You figured it out."
Another arrow flew.
Miss.
"You're bad at lying," he said.
She didn't look at him. "I'm not lying."
"You're hiding."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"There's something else," he said, stepping closer. "And I don't like it."
She turned, eyes blazing. "You don't like a lot of things."
He stopped behind her.
Too close.
"Shoot," he ordered.
She hesitated. "Move."
"No."
She inhaled, drew the bow—
Miss.
"Again," he said.
"I said move."
"Again."
Her breath shook as she raised the bow. Her fingers slipped slightly.
Miss.
Before she could react, his hand closed around her wrist.
"Enough."
"What are you—!" She struggled, but he didn't loosen his grip.
"You're aiming like you want to fail."
"I don't need your help!"
"Clearly, you do."
He repositioned her hand, his touch firm, controlling. His other hand adjusted her elbow, then her stance, his body pressing in behind her.
She froze.
His voice dropped, dark and low near her ear.
"I know I hurt you," he murmured. "But this—this isn't just about me."
Her pulse raced.
"You're hiding something," he continued. "And I don't like it when you hide things from me, Anna."
She swallowed. "You don't get to say my name like that."
"Tell me," he said quietly. "Now."
She said nothing.
His grip tightened slightly. Not painful. Just enough to remind her he could.
"Shoot."
He let go.
The arrow flew.
Thwack.
Perfect.
Dead center.
Anna stared at the target, breath caught in her throat.
Behind her, Shou Feng straightened.
"There," he said. "You weren't missing because you're weak. You were missing because you're distracted."
She turned on him. "Don't pretend you understand me."
"I don't pretend."
He smirked faintly. "You hugged Yuvan."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"You hugged him," he repeated. "Why?"
She stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Because he helped me."
"Right now i also helped you , didn't I?" he asked coldly.
"Yes."
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
Before she could step back, he moved—fast.
Anna gasped as her back hit the weapons table, empty metal rattling beneath her. His hands slammed down on either side of her, trapping her.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
He just looked at her.
Really looked.
Her eyes were brown.
Ordinary. Nothing rare.
Nothing special.
And yet—
He couldn't look away.
Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.
"You don't look at anyone else like this," she said softly.
His jaw tightened.
"Like what?"
"Like you're deciding whether to break me or keep me."
Silence stretched.
For the first time, Shou Feng didn't speak.
He didn't know which answer scared him more.
The night pressed down on the courtyard, heavy and silent, except for the faint crackle of torches.
Shou Feng's hands rested on the weapons table, trapping Anna in place. Her brown eyes, steady and defiant, dared him to move. And he did—because he could, because he had to.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," he murmured, low, almost a growl.
"I'm not afraid," she said, her voice trembling only slightly.
He leaned closer. Too close. Too fast. Her breath hitched.
"You should be."
Then his mouth was on hers.
It was a crush of hard pressure, a sudden eclipse of all sound and sense. There was no request, only a ruthless takeover. His hand shot to the base of her skull, fingers tangling in her hair to hold her still, and his tongue speared past her lips.
The shock of it was a live wire down her spine. He tasted of dark tea and winter mint, a clean, cold flavor that flooded her mouth, a stark contrast to the searing heat of the invasion. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but of conquest. His tongue moved against hers with a deliberate, devastating rhythm, a parody of intimacy that was all control. It was deep, wet, and profoundly violating, stealing the breath from her lungs and the strength from her knees.
She felt the cool metal of the table dig into her back, the only anchor in a world that had tipped on its axis. A muffled sound, part gasp, part protest, was swallowed by him. He consumed it, along with her air, her balance, her pretence of defiance. The universe narrowed to the slick, claiming heat of his mouth, the iron grip in her hair, the terrifying intimacy of a touch that felt less like desire and more like ownership being carved into her very bones.
When he finally pulled back, it was with a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue against her lower lip. The separation was a shock of cold air on wet, sensitized skin.
Their foreheads touched. She was panting, her lips swollen and tingling, her mind a white-noise scream. She could smell him on her own breath.
"You feel it," he said, his own voice rough now, a vibration she felt in her own chest. "That pull. That control. It's in your blood now. You can't deny it."
"I—" The word was a shattered thing.
He leaned in, his lips brushing hers again in a ghost of that crushing possession. A promise. A threat.
"I don't ask," he murmured, the words a hot caress against her ravaged mouth, "I take."
He stepped back. Her legs nearly buckled. She trembled, a full-body quake, her heart hammering a frantic beat of terror, fury, and a devastating, unwanted awakening.
"Fix your aim," he said, his voice cold and smooth once more, as if he hadn't just dismantled her. "And stop pretending you're not affected."
Then he turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving her alone with the taste of him on her tongue, the ache in her scalp, and the brand of a kiss that had felt less like a touch and more like a scar being formed.
To be continue...