"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
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Sultan
The storm had passed.
Not the one in the skies-but the one called "my family."
I watched them drive away, their glittery cars vanishing.
Finally, peace. Finally, silence. Finally... her.
I turned.And there she was.My prisoner bride.
Standing by the carved mahogany window, arms folded, her doe eyes far away-watching the gravel settle where the cars had driven off. She looked so small. So lost. Like a puppy left out in the rain. Her lips were slightly parted as if a sigh was caught between them.
God, how could someone sulk so adorably?
I walked toward her slowly, soundlessly, like a panther approaching his favorite prey. My footsteps didn't startle her. She was too lost in her own broken little world. Her profile gleamed with the soft twilight falling through the glass.
I bent down slightly. My face just inches from hers. And then-
I blew gently. Right on her cheek.A puff of warm air. My breath-on her skin.
She flinched. Her spine stiffened. Her eyes blinked rapidly like she'd returned from some war-zone of her thoughts.
"Now," I whispered, my voice dipped in velvet and malice, "we're finally alone, Amore."
Her head snapped to me so fast I thought her delicate neck might crack. Her eyes widened, lips quivered.
"T-together?" she breathed.
"Yes, Amore." I leaned closer. "Alone. Just you and me... in this house. In this life. In this marriage. No more interruptions. Isn't that... romantic?"
She backed away like a frightened deer. Step by step, like I had grown fangs and claws. She didn't blink. Just walked backward with trembling hands clasped to her chest.
She was terrified. And yet, so beautiful. Her terror was like red wine to my wicked thirst. Her innocence, her helplessness-it carved a thrill in my chest. But I reminded myself, she was pregnant. With my baby.
She opened her mouth to say something-her voice low, shaky, like wet paper.
"I-I will get ready now," she whispered.
For a second I said nothing. Just watched her. She was trying to escape my gaze. That little breathless urgency in her limbs-it excited me.
"Hmm," I hummed, cocking my head. "Go then, my little bride."
She turned and hurried away, her swollen belly making her pace a bit uneven. She tried to walk fast-but her body betrayed her. So slow. So catchable. So mine.
I could've caught her in one long stride.But I let her go.
I chuckled to myself. My cutie pie thought she could run.
