Chapter 6 : A Painful Morning

Pain spread through Celeste's entire body the moment she opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body foreign, as if it no longer belonged to her. Every muscle screamed in unbearable agony, bearing the marks of a night that had been… unrestrained.

Sunlight filtered through the large curtains, illuminating the silent room. The only sound was her own breathing—shallow, uneven, still carrying the remnants of everything that had happened.

She tried to move, but her body refused. A sharp pain shot from her shoulders down to her legs, making her bite her lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

Then, she felt something—or rather, someone.

Alistair.

He was still there, lying beside her with a relaxed posture, as if nothing about the previous night had been extraordinary. His breathing was steady, calm—completely unbothered.

Celeste turned slightly, her gaze landing on his face. He looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to the way he had treated her just hours ago.

Her eyes drifted to her own arm, where faint imprints of his fingers remained on her skin. Her breath hitched.

She couldn't keep living like this.

With painstaking effort, she attempted to shift her body, suppressing the whimper that nearly slipped from her lips as pain bit into her with every movement. It felt torturous, but she had to leave.

But just as she was about to slip away from the bed, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly pulling her back.

"And where do you think you're going, hm?"

Alistair's voice was husky, laced with sleep, yet still carried the dominance that made Celeste freeze in place.

His arm tightened around her, keeping her locked in place, as if he would never let her go.

"I'm not done with you yet, Celeste."

Her heart pounded violently. She knew—Alistair would never let her go so easily.

And at that moment, she realized that her struggle had only just begun.

Celeste held her breath, her heart pounding as her arm remained trapped in Alistair's unyielding grip. Her body was still exhausted, every aching muscle a reminder of how uncontrollable the night had been. But what suffocated her more was the reality that she was still trapped by this man—a man who never accepted the word "no."

"I asked you—where do you think you're going?" Alistair's voice was low, carrying a clear warning.

Celeste tried to steady herself, though deep down, she knew there was no easy escape. She could feel his breath behind her, warm and calm, as if none of this was a big deal to him.

When she remained silent, Alistair moved. Slowly, he turned her body until their eyes met. His sharp gray gaze traced her face, as if reading every thought running through her mind.

"Were you trying to run away, darling?"

Celeste swallowed hard. She wanted to say something, but Alistair was quicker. His firm fingers tilted her chin up, angling her face slightly.

"Look at me."

Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, she felt as if she were drowning. There was something in his gaze—something beyond mere obsession, beyond possession.

"I don't like it when you try to escape from me," he continued, his voice quiet yet firm. "You should know that by now."

His fingers trailed down her neck, then to her shoulder, brushing over skin that still bore the marks of the night before.

"Was I too rough on you?"

Celeste bit her lip, refusing to give him any reaction that might satisfy him. But her own body betrayed her. Every inch of her still felt the remnants of Alistair's dominance, as if it had been etched into her very being.

Alistair smirked, as if he already knew the answer. "I'll let you rest today."

Celeste almost exhaled in relief—until he suddenly gripped her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies touched once more.

"But only because I want you to have enough strength for tonight."

She froze. She wanted to resist, wanted to fight back, but Alistair pressed his lips against her forehead—a touch so gentle it sharply contrasted the coldness of his words.

"Don't think about anything, darling," he whispered. "There's no point in fighting something that's already inevitable."

Celeste closed her eyes, realizing one undeniable truth.

Alistair would never let her go.

Celeste stared at the ceiling with empty eyes. Her body still felt heavy, every inch of her skin a painful reminder of the night that had passed. But it wasn't just the physical pain that tormented her—it was the realization that she was trapped in the clutches of a man who knew no boundaries.

Alistair was still beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist as if to reinforce his claim over her. His breathing was steady, calm… as if nothing was wrong.

But for Celeste, this was the beginning of a living nightmare.

She couldn't go on like this. She couldn't allow herself to be swept away in Alistair's game of dominance and control.

Her heart pounded faster as her mind began to race—searching for a way out, looking for an opening.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But she had to escape.

She closed her eyes, recalling everything that had happened since the day she first met Alistair. He had always had everything—wealth, power, control over anything he desired. And now, he had made Celeste part of his obsession.

But Celeste was not an object. She did not belong to anyone.

Her hand clenched into a fist beneath the blanket, despite the exhaustion and soreness weighing down her body. She would not allow herself to break.

Alistair might think he had won, that Celeste would submit just like all the others. But he was wrong.

She had to endure. She had to be smart. She had to find a way to fight back without raising his suspicion.

As his breath brushed softly against the nape of her neck, Celeste knew one thing for certain:

This game had only just begun.