The palace had gone quiet at last, save for the distant hush of night insects and the flicker of oil lamps dancing shadows on the carved walls.

Advika stood before the tall mirror, sliding the last gold bangle off her wrist. She felt him before she heard him—Ranjeet's presence was unmistakable, electric, filling the chamber with something heavy and charged.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his in the reflection. He stood just inside the threshold, hands loose at his sides, but his gaze was locked on her like a predator sizing up prey. His blue eyes were no longer the calm sky she loved—they were midnight storms.

She swallowed a shiver and decided to provoke him.

"You know," she began lightly, brushing her hair back over her shoulder so the jasmine flower caught the lamplight, "Raju gave me these. Don't they look beautiful?"

Silence.

Her pulse fluttered. She watched him in the mirror, his face still, but his jaw flexing once, then again.

She turned slowly to face him fully, emboldened by the quiet. "He's become...quite handsome in the past year, hasn't he?"

Ranjeet's head tilted fractionally, as if considering whether to answer or simply destroy every piece of furniture between them.

"You think this is amusing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but heartbreakingly steady.

Advika feigned innocence, stepping closer, her bare feet whispering over the cool floor. "Why shouldn't I say what everyone thinks?"

His nostrils flared. He didn't move. Didn't blink.

Her heart skittered in her chest, but she couldn't help it—she reached up and toyed with the jasmine bloom he hated so much, her lashes lowering. "He was so thoughtful... Always is."

The moment she said it, she saw something snap in his gaze—something dark and possessive she knew she'd pushed too far.

Before she could take another breath, he crossed the space between them. His hands came up and caught her wrists, pressing them firmly to the mirror behind her head. The cold glass kissed her back through her thin blouse, and her breath tangled in her throat.

His body was close enough she could feel every exhale—hot, uneven, furious.

"You want me to remind you who you belong to?" he asked, voice rough, a low rasp that made her tremble.

"Ranjeet—"

He leaned in, his mouth brushing her ear. "You let him touch you."

Her heart thudded painfully. "It was just a flower—"

His grip tightened at her wrists. "It was his hands on you. That's all I saw."

She drew a shaky breath, but still she teased, her voice barely a whisper. "You're jealous."

"Jealous?" His laugh was soft and dangerous. "No, Advika. Jealous is too small a word for how I feel."

He released her wrists only to slide one hand into her hair, fisting it gently but firmly, tugging her head back just enough to bare her throat. His lips skimmed her neck—warm and demanding—his teeth grazing the delicate skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured.

She gasped when his free hand traced the slope of her waist, spreading over her hip, pressing her back against the mirror as if he needed to feel every inch of her trembling against him.

"Ranjeet..."

His mouth pressed harder at her throat, lingering at the pulse fluttering wildly. "Say it," he demanded quietly.

"S-say what?"

"That you're mine."

His palm skimmed lower, over the curve of her hip, fingers tightening possessively.

"Yours," she whispered, her voice breaking when he scraped his teeth lightly over her skin again.

"Louder."

"I'm yours."

He exhaled slowly, and she felt the tremor that went through him—a struggle to keep the last thread of restraint.

"Good," he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing the hollow of her collarbone. "Because you teased me all day. You knew exactly what you were doing."

"Ranjeet—"

"Oh no." His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him so she could feel the heat of his body, the iron tension in his restraint. "You don't get to stop now."

He kissed her then—hard and deep, a claiming that made her knees weaken. She whimpered softly against his mouth, her hands sliding up to fist in the front of his kurta.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze molten.

"You think I won't make you forget every man's name but mine?" he asked, his voice dark velvet.

"Ranjeet, please—"

He silenced her with another kiss, slower this time but no less intense. When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced her lower lip, swollen from his mouth.

"You teased me," he murmured, voice rough. "Now you'll face the consequences...chotu."

Her breath caught at the name, and she felt her last bit of composure slip.

"Consequences?" she whispered, heat flooding her cheeks.

His smirk was pure sin as he bent to kiss the edge of her jaw. "Yes. The consequence of reminding you that you belong to me. Every. Single. Part."

he let his hands slide up the back of her blouse again — warm, slow, teasing.

She let out a soft gasp. "Commander—"

"Say it properly," he murmured, his lips trailing over her neck.

"Ranjeet..."

He hummed low in his throat.

"That's better."

Then, slowly — so slowly — he lifted her blouse, letting his fingers brush the skin beneath.

He didn't undress her fully.

He didn't need to.

He slipped one hand under the soft cotton and cupped her breast gently, thumb circling, teasing her through the thin inner cloth. His other hand slid down her spine, possessive and slow.

He flicked her nipple gently, and she gasped — sharp, soft, broken.

"Still thinking about him?" he teased, mouth hovering over her skin. "Or do you want to imagine something else now?"

Her breathing hitched.

He sucked gently at the underside of her breast, pulling more soft moans from her mouth.

Then pulled back — just enough to see her flushed face.

She blinked up at him, dazed.

He cupped both breasts now, kneading slowly, then leaned down and kissed her deeply, groaning low when she whimpered against his mouth.

"You like when I talk about this, don't you?"

She didn't answer.

So he leaned in closer.

And just like that... the fire between them keeps burning.

Ranjeet's smirk faded into something darker, more primal, as he watched her chest rise and fall in rapid, unsteady breaths.

His hand came up to toy with the little jasmine flower in her hair—so soft and delicate against his callused fingers.

"You think I'll take this out for you?" he murmured, brushing his lips over her ear, making her shiver.

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "Ranjeet, please—"

"No." His tone was velvet wrapped around steel. "I won't take it out. I'll make it fall...on its own."

Her eyes went wide, but before she could protest, he slid one hand to the back of her thigh, lifting her effortlessly against him. Her back hit the cool mirror again, her breath catching in her throat.

"Wrap your legs around me," he ordered, voice low and rough.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she obeyed, her heart thundering when he gripped her hips with possessive strength.