"Last night, who gave you that drink?"
I looked at him, completely lost. What drink? I was about to ask him what he was talking about when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
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The house was quiet. She lay asleep in her room, pale and weak, her breathing soft and steady. Her saree had slipped a little, showing the gentle curve of her waist. The door opened slowly—Abhay stepped inside. He locked it behind him, his eyes fixed on her like a predator that had finally caught its prey. For years, he had hidden this fire beneath his pride and his silence. But tonight, there was no one to stop him. It was just her. And him. His eyes trailed down her form, lingering on the bare skin of her waist where the saree had slipped. A storm raged in his chest. How many nights had he imagined her in his bed, under his mercy? How many times had he cursed himself for leaving her that night at the altar, for letting her fall into someone else’s arms? He hated it....hated seeing her smile, seeing her happy with that fucking husband of hers. Seeing her like this, so unaware, a dark hunger twisted inside him. He wanted her.....wanted to take what had always been his. He ached to grip her waist, pull her close, press his lips to hers, and never let her go. The thought burned through him so fiercely that his hands shook. She stirred, lashes fluttering, and then her eyes opened. Shock froze her face when she saw him looming over her. She wrapped her saree around herself, clutching it as if it could protect her. Abhay’s lips curved into the faintest smile. He enjoyed it....her fear, her trembling, the way she shrank from him. To him, it was proof of his power… and his hunger. Just then, her phone rang sharply on the bedside. She reached for it with a shaky hand. Abhay’s palm moved faster...snatching it from her grasp ............................................................... Arohi’s voice shook, almost breaking. “Please… don’t… don’t do this. Let me go!” The words were meaningless noise to him. Abhay closed the distance between them in a single, predatory stride. His arm was a steel band around her, slamming her delicate waist against him. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp. She could feel every hard line of his body pressed against her softness....a terrifying, intimate invasion. Her hands flew up, palms flat against his chest, but pushing him away was like trying to move a mountain. A dark, cruel smirk flickered across his lips at her struggle. With ruthless control, he grabbed her wrists in one strong hand. His grip was unyielding. He twisted her arms behind her back, pulling her even closer, arching her body against his. She froze, trapped, completely at his mercy. He leaned in, his mouth just inches from her ear. Heat radiated from him, and the sharp scent of his cologne mixed with something untamed and dangerous. His voice was low, venomous, crawling down her spine like fire. “You think pushing me away will stop me? It only makes me want you more,” he whispered, each word dripping with menace. He held her tight, his body pressing hard against hers, showing her the raw weight of his desire....and the danger he carried. She froze, trapped, a silent tear slipping down her cheek, powerless under him. “Listen carefully,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing her ear. She shuddered, torn between disgust and a helpless, unwanted thrill. “You have fifteen days. Fifteen days to look at me, to lie in this bed, to accept that I am your husband now. The only man who will ever touch you again. He pulled back just enough to force her to meet his burning, possessive gaze. "Accept me. Willingly. Let me hear you say my name without that fear in your eyes." His free hand came up to trace the line of her jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over her bottom lip. "Or on the sixteenth day," he promised, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dark whisper, "I will take what has always been mine. I will not be gentle. I will not ask. And there will be no more choices. The only sound I want to hear is my name on your lips, crying out for me, even if it's mixed with your tears."
Bl(boy× boy) Sahan is trapped in a marriage he never wanted ...... bound to Tejas Shekhawat, a powerful businessman to the world but in truth, the ruthless king of the mafia, who controls his every move. Behind his perfect mask hides a monster who will do anything to keep him his. Desperate for freedom, Sahan begins to plan his escape from his dark world. But will he succeed… or will he find him again before he can run? Join the journey to witness his fight for freedom .... and his deadly obsession.
(Boy×Boy) You… you monster,” Taehyung whispered, his voice shaking. “I hate you.” Jungkook’s dark eyes flashed. He moved instantly, a shadow of pure power. His hand shot out, grabbing Taehyung’s arm with brutal force. He spun him around and slammed him against the cold, stone wall. The impact was hard, knocking the air from Taehyung’s lungs. Taehyung struggled wildly. He pushed against Jungkook’s chest, but it was like pushing a mountain. Jungkook didn’t flinch. With one powerful hand, he easily trapped both of Taehyung’s thin wrists, crushing them together above his head. Taehyung cried out in pain and fear. Jungkook’s other hand gripped Taehyung’s waist, his fingers digging in possessively. He pulled their bodies tightly together, leaving no space between them. Taehyung could feel the king’s strong body against his, and he twisted his face away, a desperate scream building in his throat. The struggle only seemed to please Jungkook. A dark, hungry look filled his eyes. He fisted his hand in Taehyung’s hair, forcing his head back. He leaned in close, his lips almost touching Taehyung’s. “You are mine,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous. Then he crushed his mouth against Taehyung’s in a fierce, punishing kiss. It was not gentle. It was hard and demanding, a claim of ownership. Taehyung tried to turn away, tried to scream, but Jungkook held him too tightly. When Jungkook finally pulled back, Taehyung was trembling and breathless. Without a word, Jungkook threw him onto the large, black bed. Taehyung scrambled backward, trying to escape, his eyes wide with terror. Jungkook followed slowly, his presence filling the room. He climbed onto the bed, trapping him. “Do you love me?” Jungkook’s voice was cold and hard. Taehyung, shaking, pressed his lips together. He refused to answer. Jungkook’s face darkened. “I will not ask again. Do. You. Love. Me?” Silence. A cruel, cold smile spread across Jungkook’s lips. “You have been a very bad husband. It is time you learned your place.” His hand snapped out, grabbing Taehyung’s ankle with iron strength. He yanked him violently, dragging him back across the bed with a single pull. Taehyung screamed, a raw sound of pure fear. “Help me! Please, someone help!” Jungkook smiled down at him, a predator with its prey. He knew it was useless. They were in his castle, in his world. No one would come. No one would dare to challenge the Devil King for his prize. Taehyung was completely his.
Adhiraj Raichand. At twenty-nine, he was the most ruthless businessman anyone had ever known. Cold. Calculating. Merciless. People feared him—not because of what he said, but because of what a single look from him could do. One glare, one flicker of his temper, and entire empires crumbled. He didn’t forgive. He didn’t forget. The grand mansion gleamed under the evening lights for a wedding that was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. Adhiraj had chosen his bride. She was the woman he wanted. But love had played its cruelest trick. When he saw her standing apart, the truth struck him like a blade driven straight into his chest. The girl before him—the one standing in bridal silks, ready to take vows—was not the woman he had chosen. Not the woman he had given his heart to. It was her older stepsister. She had lied. She had whispered sweet words into his ear, made him believe she was his, made him fall—deep and mercilessly. She had played with his feelings, let him dream of a future that was nothing but an illusion. She had told him she was his bride. And he had believed her. "I... I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I didn’t have a choice..." She didn’t even complete her sentence. In an instant, his hand shot out and clamped around her arm. He spun her, pinning her against the cold wall. His grip was iron, unyielding, tightening with the promise of deep purple bruises. "Please," she whimpered, terror flooding her eyes. "Someone will see us. Release me—" His gaze burned into her, sharp as a blade. "Please, marry my sister, she is—" CRACK. He didn’t strike her. His fist slammed into the wall beside her head. The sickening sound echoed through the hall. Blood welled from his split knuckles, dripping onto his pristine white sleeve. She froze, trembling like prey cornered by a predator. ................................................................... "Don’t... this is wrong," she pleaded, tears streaking down her face. "You’re my brother-in-law." A slow, terrifying smile spread across his lips. It was the smile of a predator savoring the hunt. He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear, his voice a dark, poisonous whisper. "You said to me, ‘You will take whatever punishment I give you.’ Remember?" His tone was lethal. "So... shall we begin?" He took a step, and she stumbled back—her spine colliding with the wall, trapped. "This marriage happened by your will," he declared, his voice cold and final. "But the wedding night... that will happen by my will."
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