👑 Rudra's Perspective

I didn't like the way those photographers looked at her-like she was a masterpiece they wanted to own. I wanted to remind her, and the rest of the world, that she deserved the best. So, I dragged her toward a boutique that looked like it belonged on the streets of Milan.

"Ru, where are we going? This looks expensive!" she whispered, her **brown eyes** widening as we stepped onto the plush velvet carpet of the store.

"An apology for being a 'grumpy tiger,'" I murmured, gesturing for the attendant to show us the latest collection.

But as the staff started pulling out the gowns, I felt my own face heat up. One dress was basically just sheer silk and prayers. Another had a slit that started at the ribcage. It seemed Swiss fashion was even more daring than Reet's 'survival kit.'

I looked at Ishita. She had turned a bright shade of crimson, her eyes fixed firmly on her own boots. She was fiddling with the sleeve of her oversized sweater, looking incredibly small and shy. My heart softened. Even though we were getting married, even though she had that fiery Delhi tongue, she was still my shy, innocent Ishi.

"**Umm... I think we're in the wrong place,**" I said quickly, catching the eye of the confused attendant. "**My fiancée... she prefers something a bit more... classic. We'll come back later.**"

I practically bundled her out of the store, and the moment the cold air hit us, she let out a huge breath of relief. "**Thank god! Ru, did you see that black one? It was just... strings! Mere ghar wale mujhe vahi gaad dete agar main wo pehanti!**" (My family would have buried me right there if I wore that!)

I laughed, the jealousy finally fading. "**Chalo, forget the clothes.**"

I spotted a shop nearby that smelled like heaven-melted cocoa and toasted hazelnuts. I led her inside, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. I ordered a **giant Swiss chocolate fondue** set with fresh strawberries, marshmallows, and pieces of buttery cake.

We sat at a small, intimate table in the corner. Ishita was in her element, dipping a marshmallow into the thick, swirling chocolate.

"**Ru, look! It's like a swimming pool of chocolate!**" she chirped, her eyes sparkling.

She took a big, messy bite, and true to her clumsy, adorable nature, a drop of dark chocolate landed right on the corner of her upper lip. She didn't even notice; she was too busy moaning about how good it tasted.

I leaned forward, my **ocean blue eyes** dark with a different kind of hunger. "**You have something right there, Baby Doll.**"

"**Kahan?**" (Where?) She tried to lick it off, but missed, smearing it even more.

I didn't reach for a napkin. Instead, I reached out and caught her chin with my thumb, tilting her face up. My thumb brushed over the chocolate, but then I lingered, my gaze dropping to her lips. The 'Ice King' was long gone; I was just a man hopelessly in love with a girl who had chocolate on her face.

"**Rudra... sab dekh rahe hain,**" she whispered, her breath hitching as I moved closer. (Everyone is looking.)

"**Let them,**" I rumbled, my voice a low, possessive vibration.

I leaned in and gently licked the chocolate off the corner of her lip, my tongue grazing her soft skin for just a second too long. I heard her small gasp, and when I pulled back, her face was even redder than the strawberries on the table.

"**Much better,**" I smirked, my **shameless** side returning in full force. "**Tastes better than the fondue.**"

"**Besharam billionaire!**" (Shameless billionaire!) she hissed, though she was smiling so hard her cheeks must have ached. She dipped a strawberry and held it out to me. "**Ab chup chap khao aur meri aur photos lo!**" (Now eat quietly and take more photos of me!)

I took the strawberry from her hand, my eyes never leaving hers. This was the real "Dream Shoot"-no cameras, no professional lighting, just us, a bowl of chocolate, and a love that was melting even the coldest parts of my heart.

After finishing the chocolate we come out

I watched as she practically skipped toward the cable car station, her energy levels hitting an all-time high after that chocolate fix. I, on the other hand, was trailing behind her, feeling the weight of my protective instincts doubling with every foot of altitude we gained.

We stepped into the private glass cabin, and as it lurched forward, swinging over the vast, snowy abyss, my heart did a rare somersault. I've jumped out of planes for sport, but seeing her press her nose against the glass, leaning over the edge to look at the thousand-foot drop, made my blood run cold.

"**Ishi! Peeche hato!**" (Ishi! Move back!) I growled, grabbing her waist and pulling her firmly against my **6'3" frame**. "**You're twenty-four, not five. Have some fear!**"

"**Oho, Ru! Look at the pines! They look like tiny broccoli!**" she laughed, her **brown eyes** wide with wonder. She didn't have a single ounce of fear in her. She was the bravest, most chaotic soul I had ever met. "**Aap itne darr kyun rahe ho? (Why are you so scared?) I'm with Rajasthan's bravest Prince, aren't I?**"

"I'm not scared of the height, Ishita," I rumbled, my voice dropping to a low, **possessive** vibration as the cabin climbed higher, eventually piercing through a thick layer of white clouds. "**I'm scared of how much I'd lose if anything happened to you.**"

The cabin slowed down as we reached the peak. We were above the clouds now-a literal island of glass in a sea of white mist and golden sunlight. It was silent. No photographers, no family, no Zermatt tourists. Just us.

Ishita turned around in my arms, her face flushed from the excitement. The "Jamnapari" sass had faded, replaced by a soft, ethereal glow. "**It's just us, Ru. Finally.**"

I didn't say a word. I just looked at her-my beginning model, my dreamer, the girl who had crashed into my cold, structured life and turned it into a riot of color. I reached out, my large hand cupping her face, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

"**You're too brave for your own good,**" I whispered, leaning down until our foreheads rested against each other.

"**And you're too bossy,**" she breathed, her hands sliding up to my chest, gripping the wool of my coat. "**But I think I like it.**"

I didn't wait for her to say anything else. I captured her lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and tasted like the Swiss chocolate we had just shared. It wasn't the quick, teasing kiss from the cafe; it was the kiss of a man who had waited his whole life to find his 'Destiny.'

The cable car swayed gently in the wind, but I didn't care. I pulled her closer, my **muscular arms** wrapping around her as if I could shield her from the entire world. She stood on her tiptoes, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me deeper into the moment.

Above the clouds, with the world far below us, I felt a sense of peace I hadn't known existed. The "Ice King" had officially melted.

"**I love you, Ru,**" she murmured against my lips, her breath warm in the freezing mountain air.

"**I know,**" I smirked, my **shameless** side flickering back to life as I pulled back just an inch to look into her dazed eyes. "**And since we're alone above the clouds... should I show you why the flight attendant was so interested in my 'hand-eye coordination'?**"

"**Rudra! Besharam!**" she squealed, hiding her face in my chest, but she didn't pull away.

I laughed, a sound of pure joy that echoed in the tiny glass cabin, as I held her tight, watching the sunset paint the clouds in shades of gold and violet.

I watched her bouncing on the massive king-sized bed like a five-year-old on a sugar rush. She was clutching her phone, scrolling through the photos I'd taken, her face lighting up with every swipe. Gone was the high-fashion model; in her place was my Ishi, dressed in oversized fleece pajamas and messy hair.

I shook my head, a **chuckled** escaping my lips. I stepped onto the mattress, the springs dipping under my weight, and pulled her toward me. Since she was standing and I was on my feet, she was finally at my height level, her **brown eyes** staring directly into my **ocean blue** ones.

I leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering there. My mind, however, was a traitor. It drifted back to that boutique-to those sheer fabrics and those "strings" she called scandalous. I couldn't help but wonder how that emerald silk would look against her honey-toned skin in the firelight.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp **pinch on my nose**.

"**Arey! Yeh gandi gandi baatein mat socho!**" (Hey! Don't think these dirty thoughts!) she scolded, narrowing her eyes at me.

I froze, a **shameless** smirk slowly spreading across my face. "Oho... you can read my mind now, huh?"

"Yes! I am a professional Rudra-reader," she claimed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Okay then," I challenged, stepping a fraction closer until our chests were touching. "Tell me... what am I thinking *now*?"

She squinted, looking deep into my eyes as if searching for a secret code. "Umm... you're thinking about... how much you love the Maggi I made last night and how you want me to make it again?"

I burst out laughing. "Wrong. Totally wrong."

"Then what-"

"**Saza.**" (Punishment.) I growled playfully, lunging forward to grab her waist.

"Ahhh! No!" she screamed, her laughter echoing through the glass walls as she scrambled off the bed.

She was fast, but I was a Rathore-hunting was in my blood. I chased her around the sofa, through the living room, and back toward the bedroom. The 'Ice King' was currently playing tag in a multi-million dollar Swiss villa, and I didn't care one bit.

"**Bhag lo, Ishita!**" (Run, Ishita!) I called out, my voice deep and teasing. "**Abhi toh 'half honeymoon' baaki hai, Jaana!**" (The half-honeymoon is still left, love!)

She tripped slightly on the plush rug, and that was all the opening I needed. I caught her by the waist, lifting her off her feet as she squealed, and tumbled us both back onto the bed.

In a flash, I flipped us over, **caging her between my muscular frame and the soft mattress**. I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, my body draped over hers, effectively ending the chase.

"Got you," I whispered, my breath fanning her lips.

Her chest was heaving from the run, her **brown eyes** wide and sparkling with a mix of thrill and something deeper. "Ru... you're cheating. You have longer legs."

"I told you," I murmured, leaning down until my lips were brushing her ear. "The Prince always gets what he wants. And right now... the Prince wants his 'Saza' from the Queen."

I looked down at her, my **ocean blue eyes** dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with Swiss chocolate. I had her pinned, her wrists held firmly above her head, her small frame completely eclipsed by mine.

"Now," I rumbled, my voice dropping an octave as I leaned closer to her neck. "What should the punishment be for a girl who tries to run away from her Prince?"

Ishita's breath hitched, but then I saw that familiar, mischievous glint in her **brown eyes**. She wasn't scared; she was planning something.

"**Ru... look! Is that a spider on your shoulder?**" she gasped, her eyes widening with fake horror.

I didn't fall for it. "Nice try, Jaana. I'm an outdoorsman, remember? Spiders don't scare-"

"**Nahi, sach mein! It's huge! It's moving toward your neck!**" she shrieked so convincingly that for a split second, my grip loosened.

That was all the opening my **Jamnapari girl** needed.

With a sudden burst of strength, she wrenched her hands free, but she didn't run. Instead, her fingers went straight for my ribs. "**Tickle attack!**" she yelled.

"**Ishita! No! Stop it-**" I buckled instantly.

The world's top 5 businessman, the cold-hearted Prince of Rajasthan, had one fatal weakness: I was deathly ticklish.

"**Achha? Ab kahan gayi aapki 'Ice King' wali dherat?**" (Oh? Where did your 'Ice King' gravity go now?) she teased, her fingers working like lightning against my sides.

I collapsed onto the mattress next to her, writhing and laughing so hard I could barely breathe. "**Ishi... stop! I... I'll take back the punishment! I promise!**"

She didn't stop until I was gasping for air, my **muscular frame** reduced to a pile of jelly on the bed. She finally let go, falling back against the pillows, her own laughter ringing out like bells in the quiet room.

"**Don't ever underestimate a Delhi girl, Mr. Rathore,**" she panted, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

I rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my hand, looking at her. Her hair was a wild nest around her face, her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and she looked more beautiful than any model on a Parisian ramp.

The chaos of the tickle-war faded into a comfortable, heavy silence. I reached out and pulled her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin. This time, there was no chasing, no pinning-just a soft, **sweet cuddle**.

"**You're a menace,**" I whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"**But I'm your favorite menace,**" she murmured, snuggling into my chest and drawing patterns on my heart with her finger. "**Serious talk, Ru... I'm so happy we came here. Just us.**"

"Me too, Ishi," I said, my voice thick with emotion. I looked out the glass walls at the moonlit mountains. "No contracts, no business deals, no family drama. Just you, me, and a very expensive bowl of Maggi."

"**And the 'Red Saree' photos,**" she reminded me, yawning.

"And those," I smiled, closing my eyes. "But mostly just you."

We lay there for a long time, the warmth of the blankets and each other's bodies shielding us from the Swiss winter outside. In that moment, I realized that I didn't need a crown or a palace to feel like a King. I just needed her in my arms.

The next morning, the sun hit the snow-covered peaks, turning the whole of Zermatt into a shimmering gold paradise. We were back on the deck of the villa for the final phase of the pre-wedding shoot. The air was still freezing, but after last night's Maggi and cuddling, the cold didn't feel so biting.

I was dressed in a tailored black trench coat, looking every bit the "Ice King," while Ishita was draped in a stunning silk lehenga that flowed like liquid silver.

As the music started, the soulful lyrics filled the air:

**"Tere naal jeene, marne di tyaari ae... Tere naam kiti, zindagi main saari ae..."** (I'm prepared to live and die with you... I've dedicated my entire life to your name.)

Ishita stepped into her "Professional Model" mode. She grabbed my hand, positioning me with the authority of a seasoned director.

"Okay, Ru, listen to me," she whispered, her **brown eyes** intense. "When the line *'Main tan tere layi chaddi duniya saari ve'* comes, you have to look at me like I'm the only woman on earth. Don't look at the lens. Look at me. Give me that brooding, possessive Rathore stare. And then, when the chorus hits, pull me in close, okay? Like you're never letting go."

I raised an eyebrow, my **ocean blue eyes** dancing with amusement. "Are you teaching me how to look at you, Ishi? I've been doing that since the day I saw you at the Shiv Mandir."

"This is *acting*, Ru! We need to make it look cinematic!" she insisted, pouting.

The song continued:

**"Main rabb kolo eho mangdi... Tu dholi ch bitha ke mainu le jaave..."** (I only pray to God... that you take me away in a palanquin...)

The photographer signaled us. Ishita started her walk, her grace effortless, her expression a perfect mix of longing and love. She was "acting" her heart out, following every beat of the rhythm.

But as I stepped toward her, I realized something.

I didn't need to remember her "instructions." I didn't need to think about the camera angles or the "cinematic" look. As the words **"Chann vi Gawah, Taare Gawah, Main apna tenu maneya"** echoed across the mountains, I reached out and pulled her into my arms.

The "acting" stopped instantly.

I looked into her eyes, and the world around us-the crew, the cameras, even the mountains-simply faded away. My grip on her waist wasn't for the "shot"; it was **possessive** and real. I leaned down, my forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling in the cold air.

"Ishi," I murmured, ignoring the photographer's frantic clicking. "I don't need a script to tell you that the moon and stars are witnesses. You aren't just a 'project' or a 'shoot.' You're my life."

Her professional mask crumbled. A soft, genuine tear escaped her eye, and she let out a shaky breath, clinging to my lapels. "**Ru... we're supposed to be posing.**"

"We aren't posing anymore," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "**Do they really think we're acting?**"

She laughed through her tears, burying her face in my chest. At that moment, the camera captured the most beautiful shot of the entire trip-not because the lighting was perfect, but because the love was raw.

The song finished with the final lines:

**"Chann vi Gawah, Taare Gawah... Main apna tenu maneya..."**

The photographer lowered his camera, stunned. "That... that wasn't a shoot. That was a confession."

I didn't let her go. I kept her caged in my arms, shielding her from the wind. "The shoot is over," I announced, my **6'3" frame** standing tall as I looked at my girl. "Now, let's go home and start the life we just promised each other."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The shoot was finally over, and the adrenaline that had kept me upright in the freezing Swiss wind had faded into a beautiful, heavy exhaustion. I had changed into my softest lilac silk nightdress and a matching oversized cardigan, and now I was standing by the massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall of our bedroom.

Outside, the moon was a silver sliver, and the snow was falling in thick, silent flakes-so white and pure, it felt like God was sprinkling diamonds over Zermatt just for us.

I was lost in the view, my fingers tracing the slight fog on the glass, when I felt the air shift behind me. A familiar, intoxicating scent of sandalwood, expensive oud, and just a hint of mountain crispness filled my senses.

Then, I felt him.

Rudra didn't say anything at first. He simply stepped into my space, his **6'3" muscular frame** creating a wall of heat against my back. He wrapped his powerful arms around my waist, pulling me back until I was completely caged against his chest. I felt so small, so protected, like a fragile doll held by a giant.

He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I felt the rough graze of his stubble against my sensitive skin, followed by a slow, lingering kiss that made my toes curl into the rug.

"Seriously, Jaana..." he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that resonated right through my spine. "You are going to kill me for sure."

I let out a shaky breath, my heart doing a somersault. I tilted my head to the side, leaning it against his shoulder to give him more space, my eyes fluttering shut. "Why am I killing you, Ru? I'm just standing here."

"That's the problem," he whispered, his lips tracing the line of my collarbone now. I could feel the intensity in him-the **possessive, raw energy** that he usually kept under a cold, billionaire exterior. "The way you looked in that saree today... the way you command a room without even trying... and the way you look right now, in the moonlight, away from the world. It's too much for one man to handle."

I turned around in his arms, looping my hands around his thick neck. Up close, his **ocean blue eyes** weren't icy anymore; they were a storm of heat and devotion.

"You're the 'Ice King,' remember?" I teased softly, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You're supposed to be heartless and emotionless."

"The Ice King melted the day a Jamnapari girl fell into his arms at a temple," he said, his grip on my waist tightening, pulling me so close that there wasn't even a breath of air between us. "** Ishita... I spent thirty years thinking my life was about power and numbers. But looking at you right now? I'd give it all up just to keep you in this room, in this moment, forever.**"

I felt a lump in my throat. This wasn't the "shouting-full-names" Rudra or the "jealous-of-photographers" Rudra. This was the man who had truly surrendered his heart.

"You don't have to give anything up," I whispered, standing on my tiptoes to press my forehead against his. "Because wherever you go, I'm coming with you. Whether it's a palace in Rajasthan or a tiny flat in Delhi. You're stuck with me."

"I count on it," he growled playfully, before his lips finally met mine in a kiss that tasted like forever.

The snow continued to fall outside, silent and cold, but inside that glass-walled sanctuary, the fire Rudra had started was enough to keep us warm for a lifetime.

It was our final day in Switzerland, and I wanted to leave a mark. I stepped out of the walk-in closet, the silk of my dress whispering against my skin. It was a deep charcoal-grey, body-con dress that hit just knees-not too short, but it hugged every curve I'd worked so hard for. With my **long curly hair** cascading down my back and a pair of stiletto boots, I felt like a lethal combination of a Delhi dreamer and a high-fashion model.

I walked into the living area where Rudra was waiting. He was standing by the window, a glass of juice in his hand, looking out at the mountains. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and a tailored overcoat, looking like a dark, dangerous king.

When he heard the click of my heels, he turned around.

The glass in his hand stayed mid-air. His **ocean blue eyes** darkened instantly, the pupils dilating until the blue was almost gone, swallowed by a predatory black. He didn't say "you look beautiful." He didn't smile. He just stared at me with an intensity that made my skin tingle.

"Ishita," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low, gravelly register. "Change."

I smirked, walking toward him with a deliberate sway of my hips. "Why, Ru? Don't you like it? I thought I looked... hot."

He set the glass down on the table with a sharp *clack* and bridged the distance between us in two long, predatory strides. He grabbed my waist, his large hands nearly meeting around my middle, and yanked me flush against his **muscular frame**.

"That's the problem," he growled into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You look *too* hot. You look like an invitation I don't want anyone else to read. We're going to walk through Zermatt, and every man with eyes is going to look at you. They're going to wonder how that silk feels. They're going to imagine... what I get to do when the doors are locked."

I felt a shiver run down my spine-not from the cold, but from the raw, **dark romance** in his voice. "Are you jealous, Mr. Rathore?"

"Jealous?" He let out a dark, humorless chuckle, his hand moving from my waist to the nape of my neck, his thumb tilting my chin up. "I'm possessive, Ishita. There's a difference. Jealousy is fearing I'll lose you. Possessiveness is knowing you're mine, but wanting to break the neck of anyone who even *thinks* about you."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine, but he didn't kiss me. He just hovered there, torturing me. "I'm thinking about how much I want to cancel our plans. I'm thinking about how easy it would be to rip this dress off you and keep you in this villa until our flight tomorrow."

My breath hitched. The "Ice King" was gone; in his place was a man fueled by a dark, simmering desire. His eyes scanned my face, and I could see the battle he was fighting with his own self-control.

"Ru..." I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Don't 'Ru' me, Baby Doll," he muttered, his grip tightening just enough to let me know he wasn't joking. "If we go out, you stay under my arm. You don't look at anyone. You don't smile at anyone. Because right now, my mind is in a very dark place, thinking about all the things I want to do to you the moment we get back to this bed."

He finally claimed my lips, not with the sweetness of the cable car, but with a fierce, demanding passion that claimed ownership. It was a " kind of kiss-the kind that made me forget I was a middle-class dreamer and made me realize I was the obsession of a very powerful, very dangerous man.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving. "Go get your coat. The thick one. Cover as much of this as possible, or I swear, we aren't leaving this room."

I nodded, breathless and blushing, scurrying to get my fur coat. Even as I put it on, I could feel his gaze burning holes into my back. This was the dark side of loving Rudra Singh Rathore-he didn't just love me; he wanted to consume me. And as we walked out into the Swiss snow for the last time, I realized I didn't mind being consumed at all.

I spent the rest of that day realizing that when Rudra Singh Rathore decides to "explore," he doesn't just look at landmarks-he claims them. We spent hours wandering through the hidden gems of Zermatt and the surrounding valleys. But he never let me go. Not once.

His hand was either locked in mine, his fingers interlaced so tightly our knuckles were white, or his heavy arm was draped across my shoulders, pulling me into his side. Every time a local man even glanced in my direction, I felt Rudra's muscles tighten. He would shoot them a look so sharp, so **ice-cold**, that they'd look away within seconds.

"Ru, stop it," I whispered as we walked through a small, fairy-tale-like village square. "You're scaring the locals! They think you're a hitman."

"I told you, Ishita," he rumbled, his **ocean blue eyes** scanning the perimeter like a hawk. "I don't like the way the air touches you, let alone their eyes. If I could buy this whole country just to clear the streets for you, I would."

"You are so **dramatic**!" I laughed, leaning my head against his bicep. "But seriously, look at that view!"

We climbed up to a small, secluded lookout point that overlooked a frozen lake. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, purple shadows across the snow. It was hauntingly beautiful-dark and romantic, just like the man standing next to me.

Rudra pulled me into the curve of his body, sheltering me from the biting wind. He didn't look at the lake. He was looking at me, his gaze heavy and dark. "You know what I'm thinking about?"

"Chocolate?" I guessed, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, **possessive** whisper. "I'm thinking about how this dress is still on you. I'm thinking about how, in a few hours, we'll be back at the villa, and I won't have to be a 'gentleman' for the photographers anymore."

He leaned in, his nose brushing against mine. The **dark romance** between us was thick enough to touch. "I'm thinking about the way you'll look when the only thing you're wearing is the diamond necklace I'm going to buy you."

My breath hitched. The way he looked at me-it wasn't just love. It was a hunger so deep it made my knees weak. He was Rajasthan's cold prince, but for me, he was a fire that threatened to burn everything down.

"You're a very bad man, Mr. Rathore," I breathed, my heart racing against my ribs.

"And you're a very brave girl for loving me," he countered, his lips grazing my jawline. "Because once we get back to India, once that wedding happens... you're never getting away from me. I'm going to cage you in my palace and make sure you never want to leave."

He turned me around, pinning me against the wooden railing of the lookout point. The frozen lake was behind me, and his **muscular frame** was in front of me, blocking out the rest of the world. He kissed me then-a deep, territorial kiss that claimed my soul. It was the perfect end to our Swiss adventure: a mix of pure mountain air and the dark, intoxicating obsession of the man I was destined to marry.

"Let's go back," he murmured against my lips, his eyes glowing with a **shameless** intent. "I'm done exploring Switzerland. I want to explore you."

The moment we stepped through the heavy oak doors of the villa, the "Prince" disappeared and the predator took over. Rudra didn't even let me take off my coat. Before I could say a word, I felt his powerful arms hook under my knees and around my back. He hauled me up against his **muscular chest** and marched toward the master suite with a silent, terrifying intensity.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind us, and the only light came from the glowing embers in the fireplace and the pale moon reflecting off the snow outside. He didn't set me down gently. He made me stand right in front of him, his hands gripping my waist with a force that made me gasp. He yanked me so close that my silk dress bunched up between us, and I could feel every hard line of his body.

He didn't ask. He didn't tease. He simply crashed his lips onto mine.

It was a dark, demanding kiss that tasted like the scotch he'd had earlier and the raw obsession he'd been suppressing all day. I let out a low **moan** into his mouth when I felt his teeth **softly and slowly bite my lower lip**, tugging on it just enough to send a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

"I told you," he growled against my mouth, his voice a dark, gravelly rumble that vibrated through my entire frame. "I told you what would happen the moment we were alone. You have no idea how much I hated every man who looked at you today. I wanted to tear the world apart just for catching a glimpse of what belongs to me."

His hands slid down to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he guided me backward toward the bed. My knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I fell back onto the soft velvet, my **long curly hair** fanning out like a dark halo. He immediately followed, his heavy, **6'3" frame** hovering over me, caging me in.

"Rudra..." I breathed, my chest heaving, my eyes searching his **ocean blue** ones, which were now black with a hunger that felt bottomless.

"Don't," he muttered, his hand moving to my throat, not to choke, but to feel the frantic beat of my pulse. "Don't say my name like that unless you're ready for me to lose every ounce of my self-control. I've been thinking about this since the moment I saw you in that backless blouse. I've been thinking about how this dress would look on the floor, and how you would sound when I finally make you forget everything but me."

He leaned down, his lips trailing a path of fire from my jawline to the sensitive hollow of my neck. He nipped at the skin there, and I let out another **moan**, my back arching off the bed instinctively. My hands found his hair, pulling him closer, needing the weight of him to ground me.

"You're mine, Ishita," he whispered darkly, his breath hot against my ear. "In every way a woman can belong to a man. I don't care about the 'Prince' title or the business. Right now, the only thing that matters is that I am the only one who gets to see you like this. The only one who gets to hear these sounds you're making."

I felt the cool air hit my skin as he began to slowly slide the zipper of my dress down, the sound echoing in the silent room. My heart was thudding against my ribs, a mix of fear and sheer, intoxicating desire.

"You're so beautiful it's a curse," he groaned, his gaze traveling over me with a possessiveness that felt like a physical brand. "And tonight, I'm going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to before we ever step foot back in India."