Deception, betrayal and secrets but when the truth peels out of the compromise, will she still think of him as the tortured hero of her story? Or as the tortured villain who shattered her heart?

𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒕? 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆...𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂. __________________________________________ |● 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐍𝐈×𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐌 In a world where power whispers louder than screams & silence kills, where the walls have the stories that are meant to be hidden, where some vows are made in blood. Some in shadows, he sat on the throne. The throne born of ruin. And she-unseen, unheard, unwanted-was the only one who ever looked him in the eye... and didn't look away. She didn't belong to him. But she wasn't hers anymore either. He wanted to drag her into his world, ruin her with his silence, mark her where no one else could see. And yet, he stood there-cold, controlled, burning. Because the ache wasn't the worst part. The fact that he liked it was. Two unseen souls. One forced bond. And a storm no one saw coming. #2nd book in "His Bride" Series. ●Started on 3rd October. ROY♡

𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬. Love is hope for the hopeless and sin for the saint. Love is both a salvation for the lost and a temptation for the righteous. It drives people to cross lines they swore never to. But when two souls intertwine, promising to hold each other till eternity, love becomes something far more profound-both a sin and a salvation.

"Ishq mubarak Chanda" he said, cupping her face in his shaking hands ______________ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤-𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞? One moment, she was just another reader, lost in the world of a fantasy novel. The next, she was living it. But not as the heroine-not as the warrior fated to save the world. No, she was reborn as her, the villainess, the cursed soul doomed to be nothing more than an obstacle in someone else's happily ever after. She knows this story. She's read it before. And she remembers exactly how it ends. A blade through her heart. Blood staining the cold stone floors. Death at the hands of the man she is destined to marry. But she refuses to let that be her ending. 𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞. But changing fate is no simple task. In this world, magic is alive, coursing through the air like an untamed storm. The elements bow to the strong, demons lurk in the shadows. She must tread carefully, for every step she takes to defy the story could unravel something far darker than she ever imagined. And then, there is him-the man written as her executioner. A prince as ruthless as he is mesmerizing, whose fate is bound to hers in a way she cannot escape. He is the sword at her throat, the storm on the horizon, and perhaps...the only one who can destroy the destiny that chains them both. 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲?

Her softness is not submission, but siege warfare. His power is not strength, but the armor welded over old wounds. And when at last they collide-king and captive, tempest and throne-they discover the same terrible truth, '𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙥 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨' Dive in the Journey of Love, Betrayal and Secrets.

"𝐇𝐚𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐲𝐞... 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚 𝐚𝐚𝐤𝐡𝐫𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐚𝐚𝐣." "𝐖𝐨𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚, 𝐣𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐚." She was a widow, he was a mad king. She lived in white, her days as hollow as the bangles she shattered at her husband's pyre. He lived in red, a force of chaos wrapped in flesh, his path painted in the blood of the fallen, his throne a pyre of the conquered. His enemies feared his madness. His allies feared his boredom. He did not rage to conquer-he raged to feel, to break the silence that clung to his soul like the ashes of his fallen foes. She wasn't just a bride, she was the prize, the possession he won in a war. He extended his hand, rough and scarred, the hand that had broken empires and crushed crowns. His voice was a low rumble, a whisper wrapped in steel. "Yeh haath ek shauk nahi... ek zimmedari hai. Thukra dengi toh bhi, zindagi bhar yeh haath kisi aur ke liye nahi badhega." She looked at the outstretched hand, the hand that had shattered kingdoms, and her lips curled in a bitter, ghostly smile. "Vidhva hai hum... Bhagwan bhi maaf nahi karenge." He stepped closer, the air between them thick with unspoken promises and dangerous desires, his jaw tightening, eyes darkening with a madness only she seemed capable of awakening. "Jab mard pe daag lagta hai, uski kamai se dhul jaata hai. Magar aurat par jo daag lagta hai, woh uske marne ke baad bhi zinda rehta hai." His fingers twitched, aching to trace the curve of her neck, to feel the pulse beneath her fragile skin, to break the distance between madness and defiance. "Aap mere liye sirf kamzori nahi, junoon hai," he murmured, his voice rough, the words a dark promise. "Aur junoon ke raaste mein aane wale log sirf ek hi anjaam paate hain-maut." And in that stolen breath, where white met red, where restraint clash