His mouth found the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
His teeth pressed into her skin.
A gasp tore out of her.
The sound seemed to startle him as much as it did her. He went still. His arm tightened instinctively around her, as if steadying her, as if anchoring himself.
He exhaled, pressing his lips softly against her skin. He eased over the mark he had left. A slow, deliberate soothe that sent a different kind of shiver through her.
Her fingers twisted in his shirt. Thoughts blurred.
She leaned into him, into the heat of him, the way he held her as if letting go had stopped being simple.
And then… he pulled back.
The loss hit too fast. Too sharp. She blinked, disoriented. When her vision cleared, he was looking at her.
There was no restraint in it.
His eyes moved over her. Her flushed face. Her parted lips. The mark he had left. His attention lingered there.
Ownership. Absolute ownership.
It dropped lower. Rain-soaked clothes clung to her, revealing more than it hid
His jaw tightened. When his eyes returned to hers, the hunger had changed. Deeper. Darker. Not just desire.
Possession.
He stepped back. His hands went to his shirt. In one motion, he pulled it off.
The sight stole her breath.
Water traced every line of him, sliding over his chest, down the planes of his body.
He closed the distance again, draping the shirt over her shoulders, covering her.
“What are you…”
No answer came.
He bent and lifted her into his arms.
“Put me down,” she protested, breathless for an entirely different reason now. “Hukum, you can’t…”
He looked at her.
The protest died.
There was no doubt in him. No apology. Only decision.
Heat rose to her face. She pressed herself against his bare chest. His warmth cut through the rain.
He walked.
Across the field. Past workers who stopped mid-step. Past women under the shed who forgot their tasks. Through the gates where guards looked away.
No one spoke.
