Dangerous Bonds Unraveling

The night deepened, but Myra's pulse refused to settle. Ranvijay's words echoed in her mind, branding her just as fiercely as the mehendi on her hands.

She yanked her wrist free, stepping back, her breath uneven. "You can't force me to accept this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ranvijay's gaze darkened, but there was something unreadable in his expression—something that sent a shiver down her spine. "I don't need to force you," he murmured. "You'll come to me on your own."

Her fingers curled, nails pressing into her palms. "That will never happen."

His smirk was slow, deliberate. "We'll see."

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them.

"Myra, Ranvijay, Dadi Sa is calling you both."

One of the attendants stood at the entrance of the courtyard, eyes darting between them uncertainly. Myra took the opportunity to put distance between herself and Ranvijay, slipping past him without another word.

But as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her, burning with unspoken promises.

The royal family had gathered in the grand hall, the air thick with the scent of incense and sandalwood. Myra stood beside Ranvijay, her hands clasped tightly, trying to ignore the weight of his presence beside her.

Dadi Sa's sharp gaze settled on her. "Tonight is an important night," she announced. "It is time for the final post-wedding ritual."

Myra's stomach twisted. Another tradition. Another moment where she had to pretend.

Dadi Sa gestured toward a silver plate, where a delicate thread of black and gold lay coiled like a silent serpent.

"The Raj Parivaar has always followed this tradition," she continued. "The groom must tie the kala dhaaga around his bride's ankle, a symbol of his protection. It is a bond that cannot be broken."

A murmur ran through the hall. Myra stiffened.

Ranvijay's protection.

The weight of the words settled heavily on her chest. She glanced at him, expecting to see amusement, arrogance—anything that hinted at his usual dominance.

But his expression was unreadable.

He stepped forward, taking the thread into his hands.

"Myra," Dadi Sa called, her voice firm. "Sit."

She hesitated. Her heart pounded. But she had no choice.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto the velvet cushion placed before her. Her saree pooled around her as she extended her foot slightly, her ankle exposed.

Ranvijay knelt before her.

The room was silent as he took her ankle in his hands, his fingers rough yet gentle against her skin. Myra sucked in a sharp breath, the intimacy of the moment nearly unbearable.

He looped the thread around her ankle, his touch lingering longer than necessary. The thread was tight, secure—unbreakable.

And then, just as he finished tying the knot, his thumb brushed against the inside of her ankle, slow, deliberate.

Her breath hitched.

His voice was a whisper, meant only for her.

"You can try to fight me, sweetheart." His fingers tightened slightly before releasing her. "But this bond? It's forever."

A shiver ran down her spine.

only for her.

"These feet…" His breath was warm against her skin. "These are the feet I have waited for my entire life."

Myra's heart slammed against her ribs.

"You don't understand it now, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low, filled with something raw, something dangerous. "But you are the most precious thing in my life."

She trembled.

Ranvijay lifted his gaze to hers, his dark eyes smoldering. "And no matter how much you fight it, you will never be able to run from me. Because you were always meant to be here. With me."

Because for the first time… she wasn't sure if she could to escape it.

The weight of the kala dhaaga against Myra's ankle felt heavier than it should have. It wasn't just a thread—it was a claim, a reminder that she was bound to Ranvijay in ways she didn't fully understand.

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Dadi Sa's expectant gaze. "It is done," the elder woman declared, satisfaction lacing her voice. "From this moment, Myra, you belong to this family in every way."

A murmur of approval swept through the gathering. Myra barely heard it. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything except the lingering sensation of Ranvijay's fingers on her skin.

He was still kneeling before her, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, his dark eyes watching her every move.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his height towering over her as he leaned in. "Don't try to remove it," he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear. "It'll only remind you that no matter how hard you fight, you're mine."

Her fingers clenched against her saree, but she didn't respond. She couldn't.

Dadi Sa's voice pulled her back. "Enough for tonight. The bride and groom must retire. They have a long journey ahead."

Myra frowned. Journey?

She turned to Ranvijay in confusion, but he only smirked. "Did no one tell you, sweetheart?" His voice was laced with amusement. "We leave for Rajgarh at dawn."

Rajgarh. His ancestral home.

Her stomach twisted.

Her gaze flickered to Dadi Sa, who simply nodded. "It is tradition for the new bride to visit her husband's homeland. You will be welcomed there, Myra."

Welcomed?

She highly doubted that.

Her fingers curled around the silk of her saree as realization set in. She would be leaving this palace—leaving behind any chance of investigating her mother's death, at least for now.

Ranvijay watched the flicker of emotions on her face, his smirk deepening. He leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from her ear.

"Running from me isn't an option anymore, sweetheart," he whispered. "Better get used to it."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Because no matter how much she hated it…

He was right.