UNWANTED DEVOTION

NO YOU DON'T...

"I love you, Birdy," he said, and I didn't reply; instead, I hugged him.
Kian, too, rested his head on my neck, sniffing it.

He slowly picked me up in his arms and made his way towards our room.

Once we arrived, he gently laid me on the bed and lay beside me. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer as he cuddled me.

There was nothing but silence. I could hear his heartbeat, and he could hear mine. It was peaceful and beautiful—just how I had always imagined with someone like my prince charming. But here I was, in the hold of a mafia man, a criminal, who was now my husband, my future partner.

"Kian..." I whispered mentally, but Kian hummed in response, and I gasped. Didn't I just say that in my mind? Then how...?

"What is it?" he asked, caressing my back with his large hands.

I didn't know what to say, what to ask. So, I asked the first thing that came to mind.
"Do you think prince charming is real?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, then pulled me closer, tightening his hold on me.

"There is no prince charming for you, Birdy. What you will have is this monster, this cruel man. Only this devil can have you, no one else," he said, growling softly near my face, his anger simmering.

"I... ju...st ask...ed," I stammered, and he placed a hand behind my head, pulling my face so close to his.

"There shouldn't be such questions in your life, Birdy. Your questions should start with me, and your answers should end with us.""There is no place for anyone else but you and me," he said, his deep voice echoing in our room. I felt like I had sinned. I should be the ideal wife, devoted only to Kian. There shouldn't be any thoughts of another man. I was wrong to even think that. Even if he's a monster, I must accept him. From the day of our wedding, he became mine—good or bad, he is my husband.

But he's a murderer...A voice echoed inside me, and suddenly, I had a flashback of Ash and Rose. My whole body shivered, remembering the cruel scene I had witnessed.

But he hits you...Another voice echoed, and my eyes dropped to Kian's chest.

But he's caging you, just like the others...The voice repeated, and my hand quickly withdrew from his shirt....

.....

But he says he loves you...

A tear slipped from my eyes.No, this could never be love. Love doesn't hurt. Love doesn't abuse. Love doesn't cage you.

"You don't love me..." I said in a small, broken voice, a whimper escaping with the words.

Kian quickly rose, positioning himself over me, his dark eyes staring into mine.

"Yes, I do," he said in a commanding voice.

I shook my head in denial.

"No... you don't," I whispered, and he brought his face even closer to mine.

"Yes, I do, Birdy," he said, staring into my eyes, darkness swirling within them.

"N..o... Yo..u do..n't," I tried to say, but before I could finish, his lips covered mine.

His eyes never left mine, even as tears filled them. After a few seconds, he pulled away and whispered,

"I do, Birdy. I do..."A warm tear fell onto my lips, and my eyes widened.

I saw Kian's tear-streaked face, his eyes soft yet full of turmoil.

My hand moved to his face, gently caressing it, wiping away his tears."Kian..." I whispered.

"I love you, Birdy. I do. I fucking love you so much..." he said, trembling slightly as he buried his face in my neck.

My hand found its way into his hair, gently stroking it.

I wanted to say something, but his actions left me speechless, confused.My definition of love was not this, but his was.

For me, love tasted like sweet candy. For him, it tasted like metallic blood.

Love has many forms, I knew, but I couldn't describe his.

He held me so tightly, like he feared I would run, and I let him. I wanted him to know that I wasn't running. I had no path left to leave Kian. For me, marriage was a one-time thing—binding, eternal. It brought you to me and me to you.

Now, besides you, there is no way to run.

The only choice I had was to accept... or adjust.

Kian's hands, which had been cradling the back of my head, moved my face toward his.
His lips captured mine again. The kiss was sloppy, salty, but desperate—desperate to explain something that couldn't be understood.