Crocodile had never been a man of frivolous distractions.
Everything he did—every step, every move, every indulgence—had a purpose.
And today, that purpose was her.
Sineka.
He had tasted her, had felt her writhing beneath him, had watched her come undone by his hands alone.
But now?
Now, he wanted to see her.
Draped in gold.
Wrapped in silk.
Stripped down to lace and nothing else.
And he would watch.
Because that was his newest pleasure.
The streets of Serapha's elite district gleamed beneath the midday sun, polished stone roads reflecting light as carriages clattered past storefronts adorned with gilded signage. Ornate lanterns hung from black iron posts, glass panes catching the sun's glint like jewels. Merchants called from open shopfronts, their voices weaving through the hum of conversation as the upper crust of society strolled the avenues—some dressed in wealth, others draped in power.
Crocodile moved through it all, towering, unshaken, untouchable. The long coat draped over his broad shoulders brushed against Sineka's arm as he walked beside her with that deliberate, measured stride of his—like a predator surveying its territory.
And Sineka...
She matched his pace without hesitation, her honey-colored gown flowing behind her like liquid sunlight, drawing eyes as easily as a flame drew moths.
The whispers followed them like shadows.
"Who is she?"
"Since when does Crocodile take anyone shopping?"
"No one walks with him—not like that."
Sineka kept her gaze forward, chin lifted with that perfect air of indifference she wore like armor. But Crocodile—he didn't need to see her face to know she heard them. He could feel it—the subtle tension in her spine, the faint shift of her fingers against the fabric of her skirt. Not nerves. Not fear.
Awareness.
She knew exactly what this was.
A display. A claim. A game.
But how long could she pretend she wasn't affected?
He intended to find out.
The first shop was a jeweler's boutique—one that only catered to those who ruled the underworld.
The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted.
A man in a tailored black suit bowed low, his hands clasped together as he approached with quick, eager steps. "Sir Crocodile—an honor, truly. Please, anything you desire."
Crocodile exhaled a slow drag of smoke, his golden eyes sliding toward Sineka.
She arched a brow. "Am I supposed to pick something?"
His smirk was slow, indulgent.
"No. You're supposed to try them on."
Sineka's lips parted slightly—an instinctive breath before she masked it behind a faint smile. But Crocodile saw the flicker of hesitation before she composed herself, her expression smoothing back into that perfect veil of control.
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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.
