𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

18⚚ Determination

Vencie POV:

"Come on Vixen, let's sleep. It's already very late, and we need to wake up early to sneak back into the palace," Viraj said, climbing onto the bed with an exhausted sigh.

Amaira nodded and walked to the other side of the bed, slipping under the comforter. She turned slightly, her eyes settling on him.

His eyes were shut, but his breathing wasn't even—it was as if he was waiting for her to say something.

"I can feel your eyes on me, Princess. What is it?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement despite his tiredness.

"Why didn't they show me to a guest room? Why bring me to yours instead?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in playful curiosity.

Viraj chuckled, finally opening his eyes and turning to face her. "Because they all know that, no matter where you start the night, you'd end up here by morning," he said confidently, his lips quirking into a smirk.

"And why's that?" she pressed, trying to suppress a grin.

He sighed, opening his arms. "Because we all know how much of a cuddler you are, and there's nothing in the guest room for you to hug. So, for tonight—come here."

Amaira giggled happily and scooted closer, throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his chest.

"But I could've slept with Gaurav bhaiyya or Rithvik bhai," she teased innocently.

The moment the words left her mouth, Viraj's arms tightened around her reflexively, and his eyes darkened.

He didn't know why the thought of her being in anyone else's arms, even his brothers', set him on edge.

It was a primal instinct, one that had been growing steadily stronger—an unyielding need to claim her, to keep her close, always.

His jaw clenched slightly as he said, "You won't. You're not sleeping anywhere but with me, Baby. Ever. This is where you belong."

His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the steel behind his words. He wasn't just being protective—he was staking his claim, ensuring she understood that she was his to hold.

Amaira sighed softly in his tight embrace, a content hum escaping her lips as she mumbled, "Good night, Raj." She nestled closer, her heart fluttering at the way his arms wrapped around her so protectively yet so possessively, almost like a shield against the world.

There was something deeply comforting in the possessiveness of his hold—something that made her feel cherished in a way she'd never experienced before.

And the faint jealousy she'd sensed in his voice earlier? That only made her smile inwardly. It was proof, as clear as day, that Viraj felt something for her too.

Even if he hadn't admitted it yet, she knew deep down that she wasn't alone in what she felt.

Viraj glanced down at her, watching her relax completely in his arms. She fit there perfectly, as if she'd been made to rest against him.

His grip didn't loosen—it never would. She was his, whether he fully realized it yet or not, he would never let her go.

***

"There will be lots of guests today, Vi, and she needs to be at the main palace from morning. So be careful, okay? We'll be there by evening," Rithvik said, standing at the main door of their home.

Viraj nodded, still holding Amaira securely in his arms. She was fast asleep, her body molded against his like they were two pieces of a puzzle perfectly fitting together.