The week after the incident was a living hell for Sineka—a bearable one only because Crocodile had made it so.
He stayed close, though not suffocatingly so. They dined together thrice a day—breakfasts accompanied by the faint hum of morning city life, lunches in the sunlit conservatory, and dinners beneath the amber glow of chandeliers. At night, he slept in the same room, though not in her bed. A temporary bed had been ordered and placed near the sitting area of her assigned chambers, ensuring his presence without encroaching on her space.
And yet, despite his unwavering companionship, Sineka found herself unable to enjoy his company.
Her body betrayed her at every turn. Everything she ate clawed its way back up, leaving her stomach empty and raw. Her limbs ached from days of malnourishment and exposure, refusing to regain their strength no matter how much she rested. And the nightmares—gods, the nightmares were the worst of all. They plagued her every night, vivid and merciless, dragging her back to the cold streets of Serapha, where faceless shadows lurked with grasping hands and cruel whispers.
Each time, she awoke with a scream lodged in her throat, her chest heaving as if she were still running for her life. More often than not, she startled Crocodile awake, though he never once expressed frustration. Instead, he would sit beside her until her breathing steadied, sometimes speaking softly, other times simply offering the silent comfort of his presence.
But after seven days, Sineka had reached her limit.
The night marking the end of that week, her body rejected dinner once more, leaving her slumped on the bathroom floor beside the porcelain basin. Cold tile pressed against her legs as she clutched her trembling hands to her chest, sobbing with the ragged breaths of a woman pushed beyond her breaking point.
She heard the faint shift of sand a moment before Crocodile appeared in the doorway. His gaze swept over her without hesitation, and before she could protest, his arm dissolved into a cascade of golden grains. The sand curled beneath her, lifting her gently from the floor and drawing her into the warmth of his arms.
Sineka clung to him without thought or pride, burying her face against his chest as sobs wracked her frame. Her fingers twisted into the collar of his nightshirt, clutching the fabric with desperate strength. Crocodile's heart clenched at the sound of her ragged breathing, the raw vulnerability in her tears stirring something unfamiliar and unwelcome within him.
"I'm such a mess," she choked out between breaths, her voice cracking beneath the weight of exhaustion and grief.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, his lips curving faintly despite the ache in his chest. "You are."
A startled laugh broke through her sobs—short and wet, but genuine. She clung tighter, her shoulders shaking against him as her tears began to slow. Yet the fragile moment shattered as quickly as it formed.
"Then why aren't you sending me away?" she whispered. "Why am I still here?"
Crocodile stilled, his arms tightening slightly as her words echoed in his mind. The question struck him with unexpected force, leaving him momentarily at a loss. He had asked himself that very question more times than he cared to admit. Why hadn't he sent her away the moment she became more trouble than she was worth? Why had he stayed by her side through sleepless nights and tear-soaked mornings?
"I should have," he admitted quietly, his voice rough with unspoken truths. "But I didn't."
Sineka drew back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. Her hazel eyes—still wide with the remnants of fear and uncertainty—searched his face for answers. "Why not?"
Crocodile exhaled slowly, the faint scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air between them. "Because you're mine."
The words hung between them, simple and absolute. Yet the weight they carried was anything but.
Sineka's breath hitched, her fingers loosening their grip on his shirt as the meaning settled deep within her chest. Of course. She should have known. He had bought her—an investment arranged with cold calculation and sealed with the promise of mutual benefit. Whatever comfort he offered now was nothing more than a means to protect his asset.
"But I'm a loss," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the space between them.
Crocodile frowned, the faint crease between his brows deepening as he tilted her chin upward with a gentle touch. "Your father isn't what defines you, Sineka," he said firmly. "If all I wanted was his connections, I would have married your stepsister."
Sineka winced, heat rushing to her cheeks as the memory of Amara's not-so-subtle attempts at seduction surfaced unbidden. She wasn't surprised Crocodile had noticed—he missed nothing—but the reminder still stung.
"It was you I wanted," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "The woman who looked me in the eye and asked for my hand with no fear in her voice. The woman who challenged me with a smirk as if daring me to refuse her. The woman who proved so intellectually compatible with me that I never considered another option."
His fingers brushed a stray lock of cinnamon hair from her cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle for a man known for his ruthless nature. "You're a brilliant sorceress, Sineka. I fell into your trap headfirst and couldn't stop thinking of you, no matter how much I tried. That's why you're still here."
Sineka's lips parted, but no words came. For a moment, she simply stared at him, her mind struggling to reconcile the man before her with the one she had imagined him to be. When she finally found her voice, it was soft and unsteady.
"I'm not a witch," she whispered, though her smile carried a hint of teasing defiance.
Crocodile chuckled, the sound low and rough with genuine amusement. "I could've been fooled," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You're too enchanting for a normal human."
Sineka tilted her head back, meeting his gaze once more. Her eyes, still damp with tears, held a question she couldn't bring herself to voice. Crocodile read it all the same.
"What happens when you get bored of me?"
He held her gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a taut thread. When he finally spoke, his answer was as simple and absolute as the first.
"Keep me intrigued, then."
For the first time in days, Sineka fell asleep without nightmares.
YOU ARE READING
A Bride for the Desert King | Crocodile
Fanfiction"Marry me," she commanded, almost. Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the impertinence of the woman who stood in front of him. "Ara," he heard Ms All Sunday mutter amusedly. "Who are you?" "Sineka Duskblade," she replied.
