Before she could even lift the glass, a pale, elegant hand shot out from the darkness of the hallway, gripping her wrist with an unyielding, burning strength that instantly locked her completely against the edge of the cool quartz counter.
Qin Mo materialized out of the shadows like a ghost.
His typical cold, aristocratic composure was completely shattered, his pale face tight with a desperate, raw intensity that Lin Wan had never seen before.
His long silver hair fell forward, framing his sharp jawline as his slit-like emerald eyes burned with a terrifying, predatory possessiveness in the dim light of the kitchen.
He didn't speak immediately. He simply looked down at her, his breathing short and heavy, his large body pressing forward until her back was pinned firmly against the solid structure of the counter.
The sheer intensity radiating from his core was so heavy that thin layers of white frost instantly began to crackle across the quartz surface right beside her hands.
