Twisted Devotion

Chapter-8

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His pov:

I watched her tilt her chin up defiantly, the fire in her eyes igniting something primal in me. She was a storm I wanted to control, yet never calm.

"I won’t be tamed, Mr. Agnivanshi," she declared, her voice steady despite the tension crackling between us.

My smile widened, a dangerous glint sparking in my eyes. "Good," I said, my voice a dark promise. "I wouldn’t want it any other way."

I took a step closer, closing the distance between us. That petty silk robe was tempting me. Her breath hitched, but she held her ground. Brave little thing. "Is that so?" she challenged, her bravado masking the underlying uncertainty.

"Absolutely," I replied, reaching out to gently run a finger along her jawline. Her skin was warm, soft, and I relished the way her eyes widened slightly at the contact, though she didn’t pull away. "I find your spirit... intoxicating." I paused, letting the moment stretch out. "But don't mistake my appreciation for weakness, sweetheart. I always get what I want."

She swallowed hard, a mix of defiance and curiosity flickering across her face. "And what is it you want, Mr. Agnivanshi?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

My smile turned predatory as I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You, love. I want all of you. Your fire, your defiance, your submission." Her breath hitched again, and I could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my fingertips. "And I will have it, one way or another."

Her eyes locked onto mine, a silent battle of wills playing out in the charged air between us. "We’ll see about that," she said, her voice trembling slightly but still defiant.

I chuckled softly, the sound dark and filled with promise. "Indeed we will, little dove. Indeed we will."

The next morning, the dining room was filled with the soft clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversation as everyone gathered for breakfast. I took my place at the head of the table, a silent declaration of my authority, and she sat by my side, the storm in her eyes from the previous night not entirely dissipated.

"Slept well, love?" I asked, my voice low enough for only her to hear.

Her eyes flicked back to mine, a mixture of defiance and something else—something softer—flashing in their depths. "Well enough," she replied, her tone measured.

I leaned in slightly, my voice a hushed murmur. "Dreamed of me?"

Her breath caught, and she glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention before answering. "Not exactly," she said, a slight edge to her voice. "More like nightmares.”

I chuckled softly, the sound filled with dark amusement. "Careful, little dove. You might find yourself wishing for those nightmares to come true."

Her eyes flashed with that familiar defiance, but she didn’t reply, focusing instead on her plate. The tension between us was palpable, a live wire sparking with every glance and whispered word.

After breakfast, she turned to my mother. "Aunty, Rooh and I should leave now. I have some work to attend to."

My mother, always perceptive, nodded with a gentle smile. "Of course, dear. Amrit, why don't you drop her home?"

"Okay, Maa," I said, my gaze never leaving the woman beside me. She tensed slightly but gave a small nod of acceptance.

As we made our way to the car, the air between us was thick with unspoken words. I opened the passenger door for her, and as she slid in, our eyes met again. "You can relax, little dove. I don't bite... unless you ask nicely."

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty beneath her defiance. As I started the car and we pulled away, the silence stretched, taut and heavy.