Myra entered the house with a heavy heart; leaving Adhvay again was not easy for her either.

Rudra Dev understood the sadness on her face. "You did the right thing, Myra," he said softly.

Myra nodded, knowing it was important to marry according to tradition to avoid further conflicts and the sharp sarcasm of people.

A troop of workers entered the house and bowed before her.

"What are you all doing here?" Myra asked in confusion. "Rani gaaru ( Queen)......

Raja varu ( king) assigned our work here," one woman stepped forward and replied, and soon the workers engaged themselves in their tasks as if it were routine.

Myra waited for a call from Adhvay, but it never came; she lay on the bed, staring at the ring on her finger, a quiet happiness spreading across her face.

Rudra Dev left for the palace to handle further wedding arrangements, and with two marriages approaching, the workload had doubled.

Suddenly, the workers began leaving, murmuring among themselves, and before Myra could question them, Adhvay stood at the entrance, looking at her.

"May I come in, Rani gaaru?" he asked with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" Myra asked nervously as she noticed the house was now empty.

"I'm asking permission to come into your house," Adhvay said again.

"It's our house," Myra said, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. "I thought you were going to your company today," she added.

"I managed the work," Adhvay replied.

The palace was never this quiet, always filled with guards and people, but here it was only the two of them, the silence between them heavy, intimate, and almost magical.

Adhvay walked toward her, forcing her to step back until he suddenly caught her by the waist and pulled her against him.

"I thought I could avoid you... I tried.... I really tried, for your own good," he said, his breath uneven as he struggled to steady himself in the warmth of her body. "I didn't want to drag you into my darkness, but I can't, Myra. I won't  survive without you even for a second."

Her arms tightened around him as she hugged him back, burying her face into his chest. "I won't leave you ever again," she whispered, her voice breaking. " I can't stay away you either. This one year made me realize my heart has always been with you. Even in the darkness, if I'm with you, I feel complete, Adhvay."

They stayed like that, their hearts beating for each other, slowly easing the agony of the past.

Suddenly, Adhvay's phone rang loudly, breaking the moment. Myra flinched and gently pulled away from his embrace.

Adhvay cursed under his breath for the interruption, only to grow even angrier when he saw the caller ID. "What is it, Sreehan?" he snapped.

"Bro, we need you at the company. The shareholders are really getting on my nerves," Sreehan murmured on the other end.

Adhvay exhaled sharply. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said before ending the call. He turned to her with reluctant eyes.

"Myra... I have to go," he said softly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving.



Myra's POV:

I lay on the bed, feeling lonely, when a message popped up on my phone.

Adhvay: I got home now. Had your dinner?

A smile spread across my face instantly-it was from Adhvay. But it was already 10 p.m.; what was he doing out so late?

Me: Yes...

Adhvay: I want to see you.

Me: No... Rudra mama will come anytime soon.

Adhvay: No. He won't. He'll come tomorrow morning.

My breath caught in my throat. He wasn't even here yet, then why am I feeling this nervous?

Adhvay: I am coming.

And then he went offline. All the workers had left by 9 p.m.; there were guards around the house, but inside, I was alone.

I heard a car, the guards running, and within a minute the main door was knocked. Excitement rushed through me, my heart thumping wildly.

I opened the door and found him standing there in a simple T-shirt and pants. He stepped inside without wasting a second, eyes fixed on his phone.

I gulped and closed the door. He sank onto the sofa, looking tired.

"Do you want some water?" I asked, but there was no response.

What was so interesting on that phone? Twenty minutes passed, and he was still deeply immersed in it.

Didn't he said he wanted to see me? I sat opposite him, my eyes fixed on him, irritation growing with every second.

He glanced at me accidentally, his expression shifting as if he had suddenly remembered he was right in front of me. He quickly typed a message, tossed his phone onto the couch, and walked toward me.

He knelt in front of me, resting his head on my lap. "I'm hungry," he murmured softly.

"Didn't you eat at the palace?" I asked, surprised, because he never stayed out this late without dinner. He shook his head no, and I stood up immediately, heading to the kitchen.

"Do you want any specific dish to eat?" I asked, checking the fridge.

"Yes... you," he replied, following me around.

I glared at him sharply, he stood beside me with his innocent face.

I ignored him and grabbed eggs and a few tomatoes from the fridge.

I washed the rice and placed it in the cooker, then crushed the tomatoes, added water and spices, and let it boil for rasam.

I cracked the eggs, quickly added chopped onions and spices, beat them well, and poured the mixture into the pan to make an omelette.

He sat on the kitchen counter, watching me, waiting for me to look at him. I could feel his gaze on my skin, following my every move, but I avoided his eyes.

He understood that I was angry. He jumped down from the counter and walked toward me slowly, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His hands slid over my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

The sensation slowed my entire body, sending a deep tremor through my soul. My movements faltered, my hands began to shake, and my breath hitched the moment I felt his warm breath brush against my neck.

"Are you angry at me, little storm?" he asked, trailing soft kisses along my neck.

I couldn't respond; my words dissolved as I melted into his touch, my body leaning back into him despite myself, breath uneven, anger thinning into something dangerously warm as his presence wrapped around me and stole my resolve.

The cooker whistle jolted my mind back to reality, snapping me out of the haze-I was angry at him.

I harshly yanked his hands away and switched off the stove, my movements sharp and unforgiving. "Go and talk to your phone, or whoever you're chatting with," I snapped bitterly, the hurt and frustration spilling out despite myself.

He stepped closer and bent down to my height, studying my face as if searching for the source of my anger. "Are you jealous?" he asked with a laugh.

The irritation slashed through me even harder. Without thinking, I grabbed the spatula I had been using to turn the omelette-still hot-and pressed it against his hand.

"Ahh..." he hissed sharply. It wasn't hot enough to leave a burn mark, I knew that, but it was hot enough for him to feel it for a moment.

Before I could react, he moved forward, yanking me toward him by the waist, and I collided with his hard chest. He smirked down at me. "I like this side of you."

"You said you wanted to see me, and then you spent half an hour chatting with God knows who, completely avoiding me," I blurted out in one breath, my voice sharp with anger as I finally let all my frustration spill out at once.

He laughed loudly, not loosening his grip on my waist even as I tried to break free.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, his tone softening. "It's just that some of the shareholders aren't agreeing with my new proposal, so I had to deal with them." As he spoke, he gently tucked the loose strand of hair that had fallen over my face behind my ear, his touch calm and reassuring, trying to ease the anger still burning inside me.

His face melted my anger within seconds, and I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay... the food is ready. Come eat now," I said softly, turning back to the stove to serve the dishes.

But he caught my wrist and twirled me back to him, his eyes dark and heated, his grip firm at my waist as he pulled me close, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper that made my heart race and my breath falter, the air between us suddenly thick with unspoken desire.

"Watching you do all these  like a good wife ,  making me lose control; I want to fuck you right against this kitchen counter."

Before I could respond, he lifted me by the waist and placed me on the kitchen counter. I stilled, unsure of what he was going to do next. “Can I touch you?” he asked, his lips brushing against mine.

“You don’t have to ask my permission Raja varu, I'm all yours.”

I sealed his lips, moving slowly, and his entire body seemed to stop for a second. I deepened the kiss, making it hard for him to breathe.

He groaned against my mouth, his hand sliding into my hair, gripping softly. This isn’t just a kiss anymore; this is us, fighting for dominance.

He didn’t let me win; he took control effortlessly, dominance radiating from him. I bit his lower lip, deliberately escalating the challenge.

He broke the kiss, his grip in my hair tightening just enough to make my pulse race. “These days, you’re willingly inviting trouble,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

He looked starved, eyes dark, waiting for me to close the distance. Instead, he sank down before me, lifting my dress upto my waist. “Adhvay, what are you doing?” I whispered.

"I am going to eat you baby,” he replied, his lips brushing my inner thigh slowly, deliberately, leaving me trembling as he lingered there, unhurried and completely in control.

He kissed my intimate area and he started to move his tongue there. Pleasure unfolded me slowly, starting as a sharp intake of breath and melting into something warm and dizzying that pooled low in my body.

My fingers curled against the counter as every controlled movement of his made me more aware of myself—of my racing pulse, of the way my skin felt too sensitive, too alive beneath his attention.

His tongue flicked, his teeth clamped on my vagina sent shivers through me, a delicious mix of anticipation and surrender, and I  found myself arching instinctively, chasing the feeling without even realizing it.

My thoughts blurred, pride and challenge dissolving into a heady sweetness as the tension inside me tightened and trembled, leaving me breathless, shaken, and utterly undone by how deeply he affected me with just his mouth.

I whimpered, gasped, did everything except scream as my fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more.

My body trembled on the edge, every nerve stretched tight as the sensation overwhelmed me. The pleasure built too fast, too strong, stealing the strength from my limbs until I could no longer hold it in. I felt his fingers inside me, while his tongue continued to flick on my clit.

A cry finally broke free, my legs shaking uncontrollably as he steadied me, holding me firmly, as if he wanted to feel every shudder, every helpless reaction.

I finally  came  with a shivering body.

The pleasure was too much, it took more than ten minutes to completely regain my consciousness.

"Now, I had my dinner", he said wiping his lips with back of his hand.

I looked at him, breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling uncontrollably.

My gaze drifted to his pants, and I froze when I noticed the hard and aching bulge there, silently begging for my touch.

I reached for him instinctively, but he caught my hand before I could.

“No,” he said firmly.

“But you need a release—it looks painful,” I whispered, still shuddering, my words uneven as my body struggled to calm down.

"I only fuck you after our marriage", he kissed my neck,

"until then you will cum on my fingers and my tongue" , his lips travelled my jaw, 

"you have to beg me to fuck you", he sucked my neck leaving a mark there,

"and I am damn sure, you will beg for my cock every night".

And then I understood—I hadn’t signed up for a sweet, gentle romance. I had signed up for something raw , devastating and hard fucking for the rest of my life. A love that would ruin me in the best possible way and still leave me crave for more.

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