𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬♛ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧⚚

22⚚ Sleep

Vencie POV:

Viraj pushed open the main door to the palace, his steps steady and purposeful. The storm inside him had quieted—but only to gather strength.

The night wasn't over yet, and if Amaira was waiting for him, then she have to face the beast she had so recklessly woke up.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch. There she was, curled up on the couch, wearing his hoodie.

The oversized garment reached just to her mid-thighs, leaving her bare legs fully exposed, pale and smooth under the dim glow of the chandelier.

She was dozing off, her head tilted slightly to the side, her lashes resting softly against her cheeks.

For a brief moment, his heart softened, a flicker of tenderness threatening to overtake the storm of emotions inside him.

She looked so small, so vulnerable, so utterly adorable in that moment. But then his gaze trailed back to her legs—her bare, supple legs—and the fire inside him roared back to life, stronger than ever.

Desire gripped him like a vice, sharp and unrelenting. If not for the way her legs were showing so openly, making his need for her nearly unbearable, he might have cooed at her adorable sleeping position.

But tonight wasn't about softness. Tonight was about possession, about staking his claim in a way that neither of them could deny.

She had teased him, provoked him, challenged him—and now, his obsessive, addicted side had fully emerged. Amaira wasn't just a part of his life, she was the center of it, the one thing he couldn't live without.

His vixen, his baby, his princess, his everything.

And she wasn't just his to protect or adore. No, she was his to cherish, to spoil, to pamper.

But she was also his to kiss, to worship, to devour. His to fuck. His to make love to until she was entirely his, mind, body, and soul.

There was no room for anyone else in her life, no space for any other man to even glance at her. She belonged to him—and tonight, he is going to make damn sure she knew it.

Without wasting another second, Viraj stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her in a bridal style that left no room for argument.

His touch was firm, his movements deliberate. Amaira stirred at the sudden shift, her body jolting awake as her eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"Raj!!" she called out of instinct, her voice small and frightened, her mind still clouded by the remnants of a distant, haunting memory of Sanjay.

Her body tensed in his arms, her breathing quickening as fear began to seep into her expression.

Viraj noticed immediately, and his heart clenched painfully at the sight. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft but firm kiss, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek.

"It's me, baby," he whispered against her lips, his voice low and soothing. "Calm down. It's your Raj. I've got you."

Amaira's body relaxed almost instantly, the tension melting away as she recognized him. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest as her breathing slowed.

Viraj held her tighter, his lips brushing the top of her head. He whispered again, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and possession, "I've got you, Princess. And I'm never letting you go."

Once he stepped into her room, Viraj closed the door with his foot, the soft click echoing in the silence.

Without hesitation, he placed Amaira down, only to pin her gently against the wall, caging her between his powerful arms.