Strange Pull

A tense silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Myra's chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her body rigid as she sat on Ranvijay's lap, his grip on her unwavering. His fingers pressed gently against her waist, not enough to hurt but enough to keep her right where he wanted.

She wanted to push him away, to break free, but the way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and utterly unshaken—made her stomach twist in confusion. He wasn't just claiming her with his words; he was proving, in every touch and action, that she was his in ways she couldn't understand yet.

"Why do you always do this?" she whispered, frustration laced in her voice. "Why do you act like I belong to you when I never agreed to any of this?"

Ranvijay's jaw tensed, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her waist. He exhaled through his nose, his gaze never leaving hers. "Because you do belong to me, Myra," he said, his voice deep and unwavering. "You just don't realize it yet."

She shook her head, attempting to pull away, but he only shifted, his hold adjusting so that her struggle was useless. "Let me go," she demanded.

But Ranvijay only leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "I can't," he murmured, the weight of his words sinking into her like an unbreakable chain.

Myra swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "You don't own me."

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. "No, not in the way you think," he admitted, his voice laced with something deeper, something more dangerous. "But you're mine in ways you don't even understand yet. And I don't plan on letting you forget it."

Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed over her arm, a slow, deliberate touch that sent a shiver down her spine. It was maddening—this strange pull between them, the way he could make her feel so small yet so utterly captivated.

"Eat," he ordered softly, lifting another piece of food to her lips. His voice was smooth but held a quiet authority that left no room for argument.

Myra hesitated, her lips parting slightly, but she didn't move.

Ranvijay's patience wore thin. "I won't ask again," he said, his tone deep and edged with warning.

She had no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, she took the bite. The sweet, rich taste melted on her tongue, but she barely registered it. Her senses were consumed by something else entirely—the heat of his body against hers, the intensity of his gaze, the possessiveness in his touch.

As soon as she swallowed, Ranvijay brushed his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away a stray crumb. The touch was brief, but it left a trail of fire in its wake. Myra stiffened, her body betraying her as warmth spread through her chest.

She hated how easily he affected her.

"That's it," he murmured, satisfied. "Good girl."

Her stomach flipped at the words, a mixture of embarrassment and something far more dangerous tightening in her chest. She clenched her fists, trying to fight the strange pull between them.

But Ranvijay wasn't done.

His eyes darkened, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumb tracing her skin in a way that made her breath hitch. "I don't care what happened in your past, Myra," he said quietly. "But I will make sure that no one, ever again, makes you feel like you are less than what you are."

His words hit her harder than she expected. A lump formed in her throat, emotions she had buried deep inside threatening to spill over.

She turned her head away, refusing to let him see the vulnerability in her eyes. "I don't need you to protect me," she whispered.

Ranvijay's grip on her chin was firm as he forced her to look at him again. His eyes, deep and unreadable, held a promise that sent a shiver down her spine.

"But I will," he said simply.

And in that moment, Myra knew—there was no running from him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Myra's breath came in shallow gasps as Ranvijay's words sank into her skin like an unbreakable vow. The depth in his gaze, the way his fingers lingered on her chin, sent a shudder through her. He wasn't asking for her permission. He had already decided—he would protect her, whether she wanted it or not.

Her fingers curled into fists against his chest, her body caught between resisting and surrendering to the warmth he radiated. She hated how easily he could weaken her defenses, how a simple touch or a few possessive words could leave her struggling to breathe.

"Why?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care so much?"

Ranvijay's jaw tightened. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating how much to reveal. Then, his thumb brushed against her cheek again, slow and deliberate.

"Because I know what it's like to be alone in a world that only takes from you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, rough with something unspoken. "And because you are mine."

That last part sent a jolt through Myra. She shook her head, trying to deny the way her heart stuttered at his words. "I am not—"

"You are," he cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You were mine the moment I saw you."

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but his presence was overwhelming, his conviction unshakable.

The silence stretched between them, thick with something neither of them was willing to name. Myra's lips parted, but before she could form a response, a knock on the door shattered the moment.

Ranvijay's expression darkened instantly. He let out a low sigh, his grip on her waist loosening just enough for her to shift. But he didn't let her go completely. Instead, he traced a slow circle on her wrist, a silent reminder that she wasn't escaping him so easily.

"Enter," he commanded, his voice clipped and sharp.

The door opened, and a guard stepped inside, his posture stiff with urgency. "Your Highness, we have received a message. It's urgent."

Ranvijay's eyes flickered with irritation, but he nodded. "Speak."

The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. "There's been an incident at the palace."

Myra felt the shift in Ranvijay's entire demeanor. His warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, lethal presence that sent chills down her spine. His grip on her tightened for a moment before he gently set her down on the bed.

"Stay here," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Myra's heart clenched at the sudden change in him. "What happened?" she asked, worry creeping into her voice.

Ranvijay didn't answer immediately. He stood, straightening his coat, his expression unreadable. "Nothing you need to worry about."

That only made her more anxious. "Ranvijay—"

His gaze snapped to her, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Concern. Protectiveness. Something deeper.

"I'll handle it," he assured her, softer this time. Then, with one last lingering look, he turned and strode out of the room, the guard following closely behind.

The door shut with a quiet click, leaving Myra alone in the vast, silent chamber. But the lingering warmth of Ranvijay's touch still burned on her skin, a reminder that no matter how much she tried to fight it…

She was already entangled in his world.