He looked up from the mud and remembered her eyes. Three years later, he returned through the flames, determined to lock her in his arms.
The Ling Kingdom fell overnight. Princess Changning, Feng Ciluan, escaped the palace hidden among a group of envoys, only to be intercepted by Nangong Ji, the hostage prince of the Cang Kingdom she had once known.
He was no longer the wretched boy she had dragged out of the snow. He was a wolf. A hunter.
"From this day on, you are no longer Princess Changning." He gripped her chin, his voice low and hoarse. "You are mine."
She needed revenge. She needed soldiers and horses. She needed someone who could help her kill Feng Zhaoyan. He wanted only one thing: her.
"What if I use you and then dump you?"
He smiled, and his smile was colder than winter in the Ling Kingdom.
"Then you'd better pray I never find you in this life."
His voice sank lower and lower, until it sounded like a curse:
"If you run away, and I find you..."
"I'll lock you up. I'll lock you in my bedchamber, and on my bed."
"For all twelve hours of the day, you won't be able to go anywhere."
"You'll only be able to look at me, call for me, and..."
His thumb pressed against her lower lip, slowly caressing it.
"You'll only be able to lie beneath me."
She did not know that from the moment she had dragged him out of the snow three years ago, he had never planned to let her go.
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