‌Chapter 29 Consider Me an Alien

The alley lay silent save for the drumming rain. Ding Xiang stared at the carnage—twisted limbs, shattered bone, blood swirling in crimson eddies. The man before her stood untouched, his white shirt clinging to sculpted muscle, unmarred by the violence he'd wrought.

"Now," Ye Chenghuan flicked rainwater from his lashes, "about that reward."

She recoiled as he cupped her chin. His lips brushed hers—lighter than falling cherry blossoms, hotter than smoldering coal.

Ding Xiang's breath hitched. "You slaughtered a dozen men... for this?"

His thumb traced her trembling lower lip. "Worth every drop."

Euphoria Bar's neon sign buzzed overhead as they stumbled inside. Ye collapsed onto a barstool, watching through half-lidded eyes as Ding Xiang peeled away her ruined gown. Water cascaded down alabaster curves, the black lace beneath clinging like second skin.

"You realize," Ye swirled his martini, "undressing before predators invites..."

Her stockinged foot pressed against his thigh. "Predation?" The silk whispered as she rolled the sheer fabric up her leg.

The scent of copper cut through whiskey fumes. Ye's glass froze mid-sip—a jagged gash marred her abdomen, pulsing crimson.

"Hospital. Now."

Ding Xiang upended a bourbon bottle over the wound. Her scream dissolved into bitter laughter. "Stitches. Now."

Needle pierced flesh. She bit down on a bar towel, sweat glazing her collarbone.

"Why the masquerade?" Ye knotted the final suture. "Bar owner by night, gang queen by later night?"

"Purple Butterfly leads Mist Hall." Her eyes flashed challenge. "Surprised?"

"Only that Qinghong's fools thought they could cage a swallowtail."

Her nails dug into his wrist. "And you? What monster wears human skin so well?"

Ye's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The kind who enjoys the view."

His palm slid beneath her lace trim. Ding Xiang arched into the touch, blood be damned. "You'll rip the sutures—"

"Then hold still."

The bar counter exploded in crystal shards as he swept it clean. Ding Xiang found herself pinned against cold marble, Ye's teeth at her throat.

"Proof," she gasped, legs locking around his hips. "Make me believe this isn't another lie."

His laughter vibrated against her sternum. "Careful, little moth. Fire consumes."

Her nails raked his back. "Burn me."

Rain lashed the boarded windows as clothing fell in tattered flags. When his mouth found her wound, tongue lapping iron-sweet blood, Ding Xiang understood true sacrilege.

"Yours," she moaned into the storm's crescendo. "Every scar, every scream—"

Ye silenced her with a kiss tasting of gunpowder and sin. The stitches held.

Barely.