𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 45

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“She held my wrist with a single touch, and the monster inside me knelt. She doesn’t know it, but she commands my darkness.”
•••

Aamirah stirred awake, her lashes fluttering open to find herself caged within his arms—his powerful limbs wrapped around her like iron bars. His warmth surrounded her, his steady breath brushing the shell of her ear, anchoring her to the moment.

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as memories of the night before came rushing back—how his hands had explored her body like it belonged to him, how his lips had claimed her every breath, every inch. Her heart thundered as shame curled in her stomach, remembering how he had kissed her there, and sucked her with no shame—worshipped her with a hunger that scorched her soul.

She lowered her gaze, biting her lip, her body heating under the weight of memory and touch. Though she wore one of his shirts, it had ridden up during the night, baring her skin from the waist down, she shivered from it. Beneath the thick blanket, she lay completely exposed, vulnerable—and yet protected. She could feel the sting between her legs, the bruises he had left like a signature etched onto her skin.

But what burned most was his hand—possessively gripping her sore bare, bruised ass as if he feared she’d vanish if he let go. She shifted slightly, the pain reminding her just how deeply she’d been claimed.

His grip tightened instantly.

“Don’t move,” he growled, voice heavy with sleep and unmistakable authority—deep, husky, and devastatingly sexy. “Sleep a little more.”

She froze for a heartbeat, heart hammering. But the weight of his command unsettled her. Despite the warmth of his embrace, she couldn’t obey. She shifted again—carefully.

This time, he clicked his tongue, the sound sharp with displeasure. “Seems like the pain in your ass has lessened, or the ache in between you legs” he muttered darkly, his hand caressing the very place he’d punished with such passion.

Her breath caught.

Eyes fluttering open, she stared at the hard lines of his bare chest—rising and falling with quiet restraint. Gathering courage, she whispered against the silence, “I… I don’t like it when you command or orders me.”

He stilled, surprised. Her voice was soft but resolute, a flicker of defiance wrapped in innocence. He hadn’t realized how harsh he sounded—his voice naturally rough, made for threats and power, not tenderness.

A sigh escaped his lips, low and regretful. He pressed his forehead to hers, voice a little softer now, raw with emotion. “Please, wifey… don’t leave me alone.”

Her heart squeezed at the vulnerability in his tone. The cruel god she feared the world would see—only she saw the man beneath. A gentle smile touched her lips, and a blush rose to her cheeks.

He inhaled deeply, burying his face in her hair. She smelled like him— his shampoo, he’d used to bathe her last night. The scent was intoxicating. Addictive. His obsession grew by the second.

Aamirah closed her eyes again, heart racing. She remembered how he had cradled her fragile body with reverence… how he’d fed her the stew with stern affection… how he had dressed her, whispering promises with his fingers instead of words.