𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 39

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"She trembled beneath him, not from fear, but from the intoxicating pull of his power, the way he could break her and rebuild her in the same breath."
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Aamirah lay motionless on the bed, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of what had just transpired. Her mind whirled, trying to grasp the reality of it—of him, of herself, of the way she had melted under his touch, surrendered to his dominance with a desperation that both terrified and exhilarated her.

Slowly, as if afraid of what she might find, she raised trembling fingers to her neck, tracing the tender skin where his lips had branded her with his mark. A sharp hiss left her lips as she pressed against one of the deeper ones, the faint sting grounding her in the present. Her heart pounded wildly, the heat of her skin only intensifying when she became aware of the lingering dampness between her thighs.

Shame curled in her chest like a living thing.

How could she have been so shameless? So desperate? She had clung to him as if he were her only tether to reality, as if she needed him to breathe.

Aamirah squeezed her eyes shut, her grip tightening on the duvet as she pulled it over herself, seeking refuge from the storm of emotions raging within her. She needed to calm down. She needed to erase the memory of the way she had moaned for him, the way her body had betrayed her every hesitation.

And yet… deep inside, she was waiting.

Waiting for him to return.

She listened intently, her breath held captive in her throat, for the sound of his footsteps approaching the bed. Her body tensed in anticipation, half dreading, half yearning for the warmth of his muscular arms wrapping around her, for the familiar scent of him enveloping her completely.

But that moment never came.

Instead, she heard the soft creak of the couch.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she stayed still, waiting—hoping—that maybe he was only sitting for a while, that he would eventually join her. But the minutes stretched on, and he remained there, unmoving, his presence distant yet painfully close.

The hollow ache in her chest deepened.

He didn’t want to sleep beside her.

Was it disgust? Did he regret touching her?

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, her throat tightening as unwanted thoughts clawed their way into her mind. Had she repulsed him with the way she had responded? Had she seemed too eager, too needy?

Or was he angry?

A lump formed in her throat at the thought. Perhaps he was displeased because she had stopped him. Perhaps he had expected her to surrender completely. And wasn’t it his right? Hadn’t she, in a way, denied him what belonged to him?

But… he hadn’t looked angry when he left for the bathroom.

Why he had taken another shower—despite having one just before bed.

Aamirah’s lips trembled as she clutched the duvet tighter, as if it could shield her from the unbearable weight of uncertainty. Her thoughts spiraled, twisting cruelly around her insecurities, convincing her that either he regretted touching her or he was punishing her with distance.

A broken sob escaped her lips before she could stop it.

She immediately pressed a hand against her mouth, willing herself to be silent. She didn’t want him to hear her weakness, didn’t want him to know just how much his absence on the bed was shattering her.