Jeya_Rashique

Beneath the surface of Istanbul, in the shadows where the world dares not look, Emir reigns—a ghost, a weapon, a monster carved from betrayal. Abandoned as a child, he learned to survive in the blood-soaked underbelly of power until Kanat, a man with secrets of his own, took him in and forged him into something unstoppable.

Emir knows nothing of innocence. Nothing of softness. Nothing of the daughter Kanat kept hidden from him.

Beren.

Delicate. Sheltered. Too pure for a world like his. She should have never stepped into his underground lair. She should have never seen him like that—hands drenched in blood, eyes as dark as the sins he carries.

Now, she is tangled in his world, a world that will eat her alive.

Unless he teaches her how to survive it.

Unless he makes her just as dangerous as he is.

But some flames burn too close, some shadows whisper too sweetly, and some monsters… aren’t meant to be tamed.

 A dark, intense tale of power, obsession, and love laced with danger. Enter at your own risk.

The Devil's Butterfly

The silence between them wasn't empty—it was thick, charged, crawling under Beren's skin like an electric storm.

Emir hadn't moved back.

His dark green eyes were locked onto her—intense, predatory, drinking in every tiny reaction she had to him.

Beren's throat felt dry. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

She should push him away. Should.

But her hands stayed at her sides, curled into fists, useless.

His fingers, rough and warm, lifted—slow, deliberate. He traced the curve of her jaw with the back of his knuckle, barely touching her—just enough to make her shiver.

"Your hands are shaking, Beren."

His voice was like smoke, soft, mocking, dangerous.

Beren swallowed hard. "Because you're suffocating me, idiot."

Emir smirked. "Am I?"

His hand tilted her chin up—forcing her to look at him.

Her pulse slammed against her ribs.

She hated this. Hated how her body reacted to him. Hated how he knew.

She licked her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. "Let me go."

Emir's smirk didn't fade. "You keep saying that."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. Too close. Too much.

"But you never actually try to leave."

Beren's hands **flew up to push him back—**but before she could, his fingers wrapped around her wrists.

Firm. Unyielding.

"Careful," Emir murmured, his lips just inches from hers. "You might start to like this."

Her stomach twisted, heat creeping up her spine.

He was playing with her.

And the worst part? He was winning.

She clenched her jaw. "I'd rather set myself on fire."

Emir chuckled, low and deep. "Tempting offer."

His grip on her wrists loosened—but he didn't let go. Instead, his fingers slid down, brushing against the inside of her wrist—a featherlight touch that sent shivers up her arm.

"Your pulse," he whispered. "It's racing."

Beren ripped her hands away, stepping back like she had been burned.

Emir's smirk was pure sin. "Liar."

Beren turned on her heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as she stormed off, her entire body was still burning.

And she knew—this was only the beginning.

Owned by the Devil