AUTHOR’S POV:-

The moon poured liquid silver over Lake Pichola, turning its restless waters into a shimmering mirror beyond the carved arches of the royal chamber.

Inside, oil lamps burned low, their flames trembling in the hush of midnight, casting long, flickering shadows across the silk-draped bed where Nayantara lay pinned beneath her husband.

Her wrists were captured above her head in one of Karthikeya’s large hands—not cruelly, but with a possessive, unyielding grip that made escape impossible. He loomed over her, still clad in unforgiving black, the fabric stretched taut across his broad chest and shoulders. Only the scarred column of his throat and the corded strength of his forearms were bare, gilded by lamplight.

His free hand moved with torturous patience along the gossamer edge of her sheer night choli. He did not tear the delicate fabric. He traced it. Teased it. His fingertips ghosted over the sensitive skin beneath, raising gooseflesh and drawing a sharp, involuntary inhale from her lips.

“You still look at me like I’m the invader who came to burn your world to ash,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Even now. Even after I’ve filled your parting with vermilion and made you mine before the sacred flames.”

Her breath hitched when his thumb circled the tender underside of her breast, then dragged slowly upward until he could pinch the already-pebbled nipple between thumb and forefinger—firm, deliberate, rolling it just enough to send a bright jolt of pleasure-pain straight to her core.

Her thighs flexed beneath him, sliding restlessly against his hips, the thin barrier of fabric doing nothing to hide how wet she already was.

“Because you are that invader,” she answered, voice low and fierce, eyes locked with his in open challenge. “You’re still the man who planned to shatter me to get to my brother. A marriage knot doesn’t wipe that blood from your hands.”

A dark, velvet chuckle rumbled from his chest. He released her wrists only to drag his palms down the insides of her arms, pinning them wide beside her head, caging her completely beneath his weight.

His mouth hovered a cruel fraction above hers—close enough that she could taste the clove and smoke on his breath, far enough that she would have to arch and chase if she wanted the kiss.

“Then explain this,” he whispered, knee forcing her thighs wider as he settled firmly between them. The thick, rigid length of his cock pressed deliberately against her soaked center through their remaining clothes, rocking once, slow and filthy. “Why does your cunt clench every time I touch you? Why are you already dripping for me… if you still hate me so much?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she refused to look away.

“Because hating you feels safer than admitting how badly I want you to ruin me.”

That raw admission snapped the final leash on his control.

He claimed her mouth in a bruising, devouring kiss—tongue thrusting deep, tasting her defiance and turning it into desperate hunger.

Her muffled protest melted into a needy whimper as his hand shoved the fragile choli aside, palming her bare breast, kneading roughly while his thumb continued to torment the aching peak.

When he broke the kiss they were both panting. Forehead pressed to hers, he rasped, “I don’t want to break you anymore.” His other hand slid down her trembling body, pushing the last scrap of fabric between her thighs aside.

Two thick fingers plunged straight into her slick heat without warning, curling hard against that sensitive spot inside her until her hips jerked off the bed.

“I want to ruin you so badly,” he growled, pumping slowly, obscenely, letting her hear how wet she was for him. “I want you soaked and shaking and screaming my name. And I want you to ruin me right back—mark me, claw me, own me until I forget my own fucking name.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders through silk. “Then stop talking,” she gasped, voice wrecked, “and fuck me like you mean it.”

His eyes flashed black with hunger.

He stripped her slowly—agonizingly—peeling silk away until she was bare beneath him.

His mouth followed every inch he uncovered, teeth scraping her collarbone, sucking bruising marks along the upper swell of her breasts, tongue lashing her nipples until they were swollen and glistening, until she was writhing and pleading with shallow little gasps.

When he finally shed his own clothes, his cock sprang free—heavy, thick, veined, already leaking at the tip.

He fisted himself once, twice, smearing the bead of precum along her folds before notching himself at her entrance.

He pushed in slow—inch by torturous inch—watching her face the entire time as her walls stretched and fluttered around him.

When he was seated to the hilt, he paused, letting her feel every pulsing inch of him, letting her adjust to the stretch, the fullness, the heat.

Then he began to move.

At first measured—long, deliberate drags that made her toes curl.

Then harder.

More Deeper.

The wet, filthy sound of him driving into her filled the chamber, mingling with her broken moans and his low, animal growls.

Her legs locked around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper, faster.

“You’re mine,” he snarled against her throat, hips snapping with punishing force, cock grinding against her clit on every brutal thrust. “Say it.”

“And you’re my ruin,” she gasped, nails raking bloody trails down his back, clenching hard around him until he cursed. “Even when I should hate you.”

He stilled deep inside her, buried to the root, feeling her pulse and flutter.

Then he rolled his hips in a slow, filthy grind that dragged his cockhead over that perfect spot again and again until she was trembling, sobbing with need.

“Say you choose this,” he demanded, voice raw. “Say you choose me.”

“Only if you admit,” she panted, “that you’re already fucking lost in me.”

That confession destroyed them both.

He slammed his mouth over hers and fucked her like a man possessed—hard, relentless, hips pistoning, cock driving so deep she felt him in her throat.

She came with a shattered cry, walls spasming violently around him, milking him as pleasure ripped through her in blinding waves.

He followed seconds later with a guttural roar, spilling hot and thick inside her, hips jerking erratically as he filled her to overflowing, marking her in the most primal way.

When the storm finally broke, he stayed buried deep, still half-hard, unwilling to leave her warmth.

Their sweat-slick bodies remained locked together, hearts hammering in tandem.

His lips found her ear in the quiet aftermath.

“This marriage was forged to destroy your kingdom,” he whispered, voice stripped bare. “But it’s destroying me instead.”

Beyond the heavy doors, in a shadowed corridor, a loyal guard stood frozen—ear pressed to stone.

What he heard was not conquest.

It was mutual, devastating surrender.

And in that hush, something far more dangerous than war began to take root.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

CHAPTERS STARTING FROM TOMORROW.