Sineka had always known she was a sinfully beautiful woman.
Objectively.
She had never been the type to let vanity consume her, but she wasn't blind.
The world had told her often enough—through the way men stared too long, their gazes clinging like fingerprints against her skin. Through the way women measured themselves against her with sidelong glances that whispered of jealousy, admiration, or both. Through the compliments that slipped from lips too easily—sometimes honeyed, sometimes lecherous, often unasked for, and almost always unwanted.
She knew she was striking.
Golden skin kissed with amber, eyes that burned with fire and defiance, curves that flowed like liquid silk, a mouth that could ruin a man with a single word.
She knew.
But she had never thought much of it.
Because beauty alone had never meant power.
Not to her.
Not in a world where men measured women by their usefulness, by their obedience, by their willingness to submit.
And Sineka Duskblade had never been useful to anyone.
Never been obedient.
Never submitted.
So what had beauty ever done for her?
Nothing.
Which was why she had never cared.
Until now.
Until him.
Crocodile.
A man carved from iron and smoke, whose gaze burned hotter than any compliment she had ever received.
He was not a man who indulged in whims. Not a man who wasted time or coin on trivial pleasures. He was a man who took what he wanted, built empires from ash and ambition—and destroyed anyone who stood in his way.
And yet—
He had bought her gold.
Had chosen dresses spun from silk and gowns kissed with lace. Had pressed lingerie into her hands that clung to her curves like sin, each piece more wicked than the last.
All for her.
And that bothered her.
Because she couldn't understand it.
Why?
What did he see?
What did he want?
The questions burned beneath her skin, hot and restless, until she could no longer sit still.
Sineka rose from the edge of the bed, the silk sheets whispering against her bare legs as she crossed the room. The lingerie boxes sat untouched beside her—black satin ribbons still tied in perfect bows, their embossed gold lettering gleaming faintly in the low light.
She ignored them.
Instead, her gaze found the mirror.
Tall and unyielding, its glass reflected the soft curve of her silhouette in the moonlight—the delicate slope of her collarbone, the faint shimmer of freckles dusted across her cheeks, the wild waves of cinnamon hair that spilled down her back.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring at her own reflection.
Waiting.
As if the answer might reveal itself if she looked long enough.
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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.
