She was his sin. His salvation. His destruction.
The ballroom was a shrine to deceit - sparkling chandeliers and polished lies.
Alaina Shaikh stood by the bar, her whiskey untouched, her eyes molten steel as they locked onto him.
Arsalan Malik.
The man who was hers.
And the stupid girl who dared to touch him.
Alaina watched, silent and deadly, as the girl leaned in, whispered something suggestive.
For a split second, Arsalan looked hesitant - then he smirked, that ruthless, cocky smirk meant only for Alaina - and accepted the dance.
He pulled the girl into his arms, spinning her across the floor, making sure Alaina saw it.
Making sure she burned.
And she did.
Oh, she burned.
CRACK
The glass in her hand shattered, blood spilling from her palm.
She didn't even flinch.
She turned and walked out, leaving a trail of blood and fury behind her.
The car ride was a blur - headlights streaking through the night, tires screaming against the asphalt, her heart pounding a vicious rhythm of betrayal and vengeance.
When Arsalan barged into her home minutes later, wild and frantic, she was waiting.
Silent. Seething.
A goddess of wrath wrapped in satin and blood.
He rushed to her side, grabbing her hand, bandaging it clumsily with torn strips of cloth. His breath was ragged, his touch trembling.
Regret dripped from him like sweat.
But regret wasn't enough.
Not tonight.
With a snarl, she grabbed him by the collar, slammed him down onto the couch, and straddled him with the fluid, predatory grace of a woman who knew exactly how much power she held.
Their mouths crashed together in a brutal kiss, teeth clashing, lips bruising, no tenderness left - only rage, only possession.
In one savage move, she ripped his pants apart, freeing him, leaving him bare and desperate beneath her.
She shoved her panties aside, grinding her slick heat against his aching, throbbing length, teasing him cruelly.
He whimpered..
"You wanted attention, didn't you, Malik?"
Her voice was pure venom, dripping into his veins.
"You wanted to make me jealous? You wanted to hurt me?"
She slammed down onto him without warning, burying him to the hilt inside her.
He cried out - a broken, desperate sound that made her smirk darkly.
"Good," she purred against his ear, riding him mercilessly, her hips slamming down with bruising force.
"Because now, I'm going to destroy you."
He was helpless beneath her - body arching, hands scrabbling at her waist, gasping, shuddering, already unraveling at the edges.
But Alaina wasn't done.
Not even close.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to look up at her.
"Look at me," she snarled.
"Look at the woman you belong to while I fucking break you."
She slammed her hips harder, faster, driving him insane, his moans growing louder, more desperate.
She could feel him trembling beneath her, on the verge of shattering.
But she didn't let him fall.
Not yet.
She leaned down, biting cruelly at his throat, marking him deep, leaving brutal bruises he wouldn't be able to hide.
"You're mine, Arsalan," she growled against his skin, her nails raking down his chest, drawing blood.
"Mine to punish. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin."
He was sobbing now - beautiful, broken sobs that made her hips move even faster, even rougher, grinding him into the couch like a ragdoll.
"Beg," she demanded, her voice a lethal purr.
"Beg for forgiveness. Beg for mercy. Crawl for it."
"Alaina-please-" he gasped, completely undone, wrecked, shaking violently under her.
She laughed - a dark, cruel sound - and slammed down onto him harder, wrenching another shattered cry from his lips.
"No mercy," she whispered.
"You'll pass out before I let you come. You'll suffer for thinking anyone else could ever touch you."
Her own climax was brutal, tearing through her like a wildfire, but she didn't slow down.
Didn't stop.
She rode him harder, faster, battering him into submission, biting, scratching, devouring every broken sound he made.
He was sobbing now, mindless, his body jerking helplessly under hers, begging incoherently, completely at her mercy.
And Alaina?
She smiled - dark, vicious, victorious - because he was hers.
Mind. Body. Soul.
No one would ever dare touch him again.
Because Arsalan Malik now knew exactly who he belonged to.
And tonight, he would drown in that truth.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until there was nothing left of him but her name carved into his soul.
-------
The storm of their fury had passed.
Now, only the wreckage remained.
Arsalan lay sprawled across the couch - bruised, marked, utterly ruined, his chest heaving weakly, his body limp with exhaustion.
His face was flushed, damp with sweat, his mouth parted slightly as he fought to breathe through the aftershocks of everything she'd done to him.
And Alaina...
Alaina knelt beside him in the dim light, her chest rising and falling with the remnants of her own storm, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for him.
The fierce, ruthless woman from moments ago had vanished, melted away into something rawer, something devastatingly gentle.
Silently, she brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
She pressed her lips to his temple in a whisper of a kiss - barely a breath against his burning skin.
"Stupid man," she whispered under her breath, the insult cradled in so much love it sounded like a prayer.
With slow, careful hands, she cleaned him, wiping away the traces of sweat and blood and desire that clung to his battered body.
She stripped away the ruined remnants of his clothes, her touch so feather-light he barely stirred.
Then she dressed him in one of her oversized black T-shirts - the fabric drowning him, swallowing him whole, making him look even more breakable in her arms.
Something inside her twisted painfully at the sight.
Her strong, arrogant Arsalan - collapsed, vulnerable, utterly hers.
She cradled his head against her chest for a moment, holding him close, feeling the faint, frantic beat of his heart against her ribs.
A soundless vow formed in her heart.
No one would ever hurt him.
No one would ever steal him away.
He was hers. Always. Forever.
Gently, she lifted him, carrying him effortlessly despite his weight - as if he weighed nothing, as if he were something precious.
She laid him down on the bed with reverence, arranging his limp body carefully against the soft sheets.
She tucked the pillow under his head, smoothing the messy hair from his forehead once more, her fingers lingering longer than necessary.
Then she pulled the duvet up to his chin, cocooning him in warmth, shielding him from the cold world outside.
Alaina sat at the edge of the bed, staring down at him, her heart aching in ways she could not name.
He looked so young like this. So innocent. So painfully hers.
She leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over the corner of his mouth, a silent promise pressed into his skin.
"Sleep, meri jaan," she murmured, voice breaking on the words. ("Sleep, my life.")
"I've got you. You're safe. You're mine."
And with one last lingering glance - a gaze so full of dark devotion it could've burned through steel -
Alaina curled up beside him, resting her hand lightly over his heart.
Feeling it beat.
Alive.
Still hers.
Always hers.
━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━