💌 Welcome Back, Brave Reader…

⚠️ Content Warning: Adult themes, sensual tension, and naughty whispers ahead. 18+ only.

Survived Chapter 1? 😏
Did your heart skip a beat when Vikram appeared? 💓
Could you feel Naina’s fear… and a little forbidden curiosity? 🔥
Ready for more whispers, secrets, and dangerously tempting glances? 😈💋

Chapter 2 The First Night

The wedding was done. The villagers were fed. The torches died one by one, leaving shadows that whispered of the night to come.

Naina, now wrapped in a heavy red bridal saree, was escorted to Rajveer’s villa on a sedan adorned with gold and silver, followed by a trailing river of servants in moonlight.

She didn’t speak or blink; she had never left her house before—not like this.

When the servants opened the carved iron gates, the silence inside was deafening.

The villa was massive—cold marble floors, grand staircases, and long hallways.

No paintings, no laughter, no warmth.

Only the scent of oud and something faintly metallic.

A maid whispered, “This way, Thakurain…”

Niana was taken to a large room lit by oil lamps and a fire that crackled too loudly. There were no flowers. No sweets. No giggling women.

Her anklets chimed with each step, heavy and deliberate.

Cham.

Cham.

Cham.

The walls whispered secrets, making Naina shiver. Alone, she wondered what awaited her.

The room where the maid drops her off has just a bed with black silk sheets awaiting her; her heart thundered, the silk seeming to hum with secrets.

Her heart thundered.

She remembered the whispers:
'He binds them. Makes them beg. Screams vanish into the night.'

The door creaked open.

And her heart skips a beat as the scent of sandalwood fills the room, sending a shiver down her spine.

Vikram entered, turban gone, hair falling over his forehead.

He said nothing.

His eyes swept from the fire to the bed to her.

She sat stiffly on the edge, clutching her veil, nails digging into her palm.

His long shadow fell over her, and she felt a sense of dread creeping up her spine.

Minutes passed in silence.

He walked toward her.

Her breath hitched.

She gripped her knees.

This is the night, today, when everything will change.

But then—he stopped.

And turned his back to her.

“You’re not her,” he said. “You’re not the one they promised me.”

She swallowed. “No, sa–sarkar.”

He turned slightly.

“But they gave me you.”

She could feel the weight of his gaze without even looking at him.

“I take nothing unwillingly. But once it’s mine—” he paused, voice like a growl, “—it never leaves.”

Naina felt cold all over. Her hands trembled.

Vikram moved to the door. Her heart jumped, confused.

“I won’t touch you tonight,” he said, his voice low. “Not until you ask me to.”

Then softer:
“But once you do… there’s no turning back.” His words were not like a threat but a promise of possession that sent shivers down her spine.

The door closed behind him.

With a loud twack, as tears pricked at the corners of Naina's eyes.

She sat alone in a room full of whispers and shadows, afraid of a man who hadn’t laid a finger on her…
Yet.

The grand villa was silent the next morning.

Servants moved like ghosts, speaking only in whispers around their new mistress. Naina kept her eyes lowered and her hands folded, playing the perfect obedient bride.

But inside her, a storm brewed quietly—one that no one knew existed.

They all thought she was simple.

Dusky. Dumb. Mute.

That’s what she wanted them to believe.

Because behind her soft eyes and bowed head was a secret she’d never told a soul.

She could read more than words; she could see the fear in their smiles and the lies in their eyes.

Not just words on pages but in the very air they breathed.

Not just read… devour.

And not scriptures or recipes.

No.

Her nights were spent reading pages filled with heat, fire, and longing.

Stories of stolen kisses, forbidden touches, and husbands who did far more than just hold their wives' hands.

It had all begun two years ago.

A foreign couple had visited the village from the city—strange, bold people with cameras and books and perfume.

Woman in pants and a shirt instead of traditional sarees. A man who spoke in a language she couldn't understand but whose eyes held a promise of adventure.

One of their bags had split open as they left, and Niana had found a small red-bound book tucked in the grass.

She’d picked it up to return it—but they were gone.

The book’s name was Sinful Desires. In English, a language she barely understood, yet every word burned within her.

She remembered the first night she read it—hidden under her blanket, a lamp flickering low.

“His fingers traced down her spine like the pages of a book; he meant to tear her apart…”

She had never breathed the same again.

Tear her apart, she thought. He was about to murder her, but what happened next shook her to the core. The words on the pages seemed to come alive, enveloping her in a world of passion and danger that she had never experienced before.

By day, she stitched and swept and nodded when spoken to.

But by night… she read of women who moaned, who ached, who demanded to be touched.

She read of silk ropes and candle wax, of wrists pinned and bodies surrendered. She didn’t even understand it all… but she felt it.

And now, married to Vikram, whose very presence made her spine tighten and skin heat—She didn’t know whether to fear him…
Or to want what she had only read about.

Niana found a quiet corner in the back of the villa—an old, dusty storage room behind the kitchens.

It had one broken lamp, a cushion, and a trunk of forgotten things.

Beneath her blouse, sewn into the inner lining, she hid the book—Sinful Desires.

She pulled it out now, breath catching as she flipped open the wrinkled pages.

“He pulled her hair gently, making her gasp—not from pain, but from how her body melted under him…”

"His lips bite gently at her neck, sending shivers down her spine as she imagined his touch." Niana's heart raced as she read on, lost in the forbidden world of desire and longing.

Her cheeks flushed. Fingers traced the words, feeling the fire leap from page to skin.

A creak echoed behind her.

She froze.

She yanked the book into her pallu, heart hammering, every nerve alive with a secret she couldn’t name.

It was only a cat.

But her heart raced—not from fear of being caught… but from a feeling she didn’t yet know how to name.

That night, as she lay in the vast bed with its silk sheets and untouched pillows, she stared at the ceiling and thought—

What would it feel like… if Sarkar touched me the way the men in the books did?

The scariest part? She feared it… yet a part of her wanted it.

Devil’s Note 😈💋

Oh, brave little reader… here you are again. Did Naina survive the first storm? Or did her heart already start to betray her? 💓

💭 Did your skin tingle when Vikram said he wouldn’t touch her tonight… but once she did, there’d be no turning back? 🔥
💭 Can you feel Naina’s secret craving, hidden behind her shy eyes? 😏
💭 And the big question… is he really the beast everyone whispers about… or is that just the rumor playing with your imagination? 🖤

One thing’s for sure: whispers, shadows, and sinful desires are just getting started… 💋

Can’t wait for Chapter 3? Well, go read it then… if you dare. 🔥😉

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