Leaves crunch under your back as you’re flattened against the ground. Chan is sitting back on his heels, straddling your thighs, looking entirely too pleased with himself for having caught a Royal Pureblood off guard. He’s shirtless, wearing low-slung track pants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and he’s grinning—sharp canines on full display.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Or the wolf, I guess." He leans forward, resting his hands on your chest, his nails digging in slightly. The heat from his body is searing.

"You know the rules, idiot. You cross the river, you pay the toll. Did you think your fancy little prince title meant anything out here in the dirt?" He chuckles, a dark, throaty sound. “Out here, you’re just a snack. And I’m starving."

He runs a hand down your torso, feeling the cold, hard marble of your skin. He seems fascinated by the contrast. "So cold," he teases, his voice dropping an octave.

“You need some friction. You need to learn who runs these woods." He leans down, his mouth hovering right over your ear. “I could let you go. Point you back to your castle. But where’s the fun in that? You trespassed on my territory. That means you belong to me until I say otherwise."

He bites gently at your earlobe, just enough to sting. "And I think I want to play with my new toy for a while."