"You are now the tiger's mate," Shahkhur declared, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to reverberate through the very air around them.
Leila's eyes widened almost instantly, her breath hitching as if the weight of his words had struck her physically. At first, it felt as though the sentence had merely grazed her ears, a fleeting sound carried by the wind. But then, as if by some slow, creeping process, the meaning seeped into her consciousness. She blinked, her body stiffening as realization dawned, and her heart began to beat erratically.
"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice trembling but carrying a defiance that hadn't been there before. The fear that had dominated her expression moments ago was replaced with something fiercer, something unyielding. Her sudden confidence sparked an amused reaction in Shahkhur, and his lips curled into a smirk, the sharpness of his gaze betraying his intrigue.
"I said," he repeated, his tone firm and unrelenting, "you are now my mate."
The words were sharper this time, slicing through the air like a blade, and Leila felt her chest tighten, her breath faltering. For a brief, desperate moment, she wrenched herself free from his grip, her instincts screaming at her to run, to escape. She turned on her heel and bolted, her feet stomping against the ground.
But Shahkhur was faster.
Much faster.
Before she could even comprehend what had happened, he was standing before her, his form a blur of motion that her eyes couldn't track. One moment she was fleeing, and the next, he was there, blocking her path. She stumbled to a halt, her body freezing as if paralyzed by the intensity of his presence. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribcage, each beat echoing in her ears.
"I warned you not to run," he said, his voice colder now, edged with a dangerous calm that made her shiver. He stepped closer, reaching out as if to seize her again, but then he hesitated, his hand faltering mid-air. His expression shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of conflict crossing his features.
He hated this—this inexplicable pull toward her, this maddening attraction that gnawed at his control. Yet, it was futile to resist. The bond, the mark, was the cause.
"Even if you could run," he continued, his voice softening into something almost taunting, "it would be pointless. I'd find you in an instant. You're marked now. I can track you anywhere, little girl. You're mine."
Mine.
The word lingered in the air like a brand, scorching her with its weight. Her heart seemed to stutter, her breaths shallow as warmth crept up her neck to her cheeks. She couldn't meet his gaze, instead averting her eyes as if that would shield her from the intensity of his claim.
Her mind raced, fragments of conversations she'd once overheard in the Glory House surfacing. Her sisters had spoken about men who marked women, about how such a claim was never made lightly. A man only bound himself to a woman if she held some deeper, undeniable significance to him.
The thought made her chest tighten further.
Shahkhur stood before her, his presence both imposing and magnetic, and Leila struggled to reconcile her fear with the inexplicable flutter in her chest. She clenched her fists, her jaw tightening.
"Mine?" she echoed, her voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Her gaze flickered toward Shahkhur, daring a sideways glance. He towered over her, his presence as overwhelming as his sheer physicality. His taut muscles and chiseled features were undeniably striking.
Too attractive.
The thought betrayed her as it slipped into her mind unbidden. Belonging to a man like that didn't seem like such a terrible idea—if one ignored his audacity.
"Yes," he replied, his voice firm but oddly laced with a hint of amusement. "You are mine. At least for now."
Leila felt heat rush to her face, painting her cheeks a deep crimson that rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, each thud a reminder of how unprepared she was for this encounter. This was the first time a man had spoken of any kind of claim over her, let alone in a way that bordered on… romantic?
"I—I am a young, single maiden," she stammered, her voice small but laden with embarrassment. "Conversations like this… they aren't proper." Leila turned her face away, trying to shield her burning cheeks from his piercing gaze.
Shahkhur rolled his eyes.
"If you have some sort of affection for me," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "then you should talk to my mother…" She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. "I don't have a father anymore, but my mother would suffice. Even though she's sick, you could ask for her blessing—for my hand in marriage—instead of, you know, randomly calling me yours like this."
Her words spilled out in a hurried jumble, each one more flustered than the last. She refused to look at him now, as though avoiding his gaze would make the situation less mortifying.
Shahkhur's lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes again. This girl was impossible. Her emotions shifted with dizzying speed, from shock to indignation, and now to something bordering on admiration.
Was she really this lost in her own fantasy?
"You're misunderstanding something," he began, his voice edged with frustration as he tried to clarify, but Leila was far too immersed in her world to notice his tone.
"I understand that the ways of the animals are different from those of humans," she prattled on, as though giving him a lesson in courtship. "But surely, even among tigers, there are proper steps to take when wooing a maiden!"
Her confidence swelled, even as her cheeks remained flushed. She turned her wide, earnest eyes back to him, and for a fleeting moment, the scene felt surreal. The way the moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, the way Leila's soft voice carried a nervous edge—it could have been mistaken for a romantic confession exchanged in secret under the stars.
Shahkhur stared at her, incredulous.
Did she really think this was a proposal? Was she genuinely this far gone?
"I think you're getting the wrong idea," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
But Leila's dreamy expression didn't falter, and she continued, oblivious to his mounting irritation. For a moment, he wondered if she was deliberately ignoring him—or if she truly was as hopelessly naïve as she seemed.
"I am not an animal!" Shahkhur's voice thundered, sharp and cutting, as his patience snapped.
Leila flinched, the unexpected outburst sending a chill down her spine. Never before had a man raised his voice at her, and the sheer force of his tone was enough to rattle her. Fear gripped her for a fleeting moment as she instinctively took a step back.
I didn't mean it like that," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her hands fidgeted nervously as she tried to explain. "I was just saying… you've been a beast for so long, so maybe it's possible you've forgotten the way humans do things."
Shahkhur's expression darkened, his brows furrowing as her words hit a nerve. "I just said I am not a beast!" he bellowed, his frustration boiling over.
Before she could react, he closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her neck with a force that made her gasp. The sudden aggression yanked her back to how it had all begun, the word "beast" seemingly pushing him over the edge. His golden eyes burned with something raw and untamed, his teeth clenched as his grip tightened.
"I am cursed," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you understand that? I am in a hassle right now, trying to find the sorcerer who did this to me. Once I break the curse, I'll be free. I'll be human again!"
Leila's face twisted in pain as she clawed weakly at his hand, her fingers struggling to pry him off. "Pardon me," she choked out, her voice faint and strained.
Her trembling gasps snapped him out of his rage. Shahkhur's eyes flicked to her face, noticing the discomfort etched into her features. With a sigh, he released her abruptly, watching as she collapsed to the ground. Her legs, too weak to support her, buckled beneath her, and she sank into the dirt, coughing and clutching her throat.
"As long as you don't call me a beast again," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair in frustration, "we're good."
Leila didn't answer right away. She sat there, her breaths shallow and uneven, her gaze darting anywhere but at him. Slowly, she scooted backward, her hands fumbling for support until her back hit the rough bark of a tree. Her heart raced, her fear giving way to a simmering anger.
"If you're going to keep using your strength to hurt me like this," she whispered, her voice shaking but laced with defiance, "then you are no different from a beast."
Her words struck him harder than he cared to admit.
"Only beasts treat people the way you just treated me," she continued, her eyes narrowing as she stared him down, refusing to let the fear consume her.
Shahkhur froze, her words ringing in his ears. For a moment, he stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line, guilt tugging at the edges of his conscience. The heat of his anger cooled slightly, replaced by a faint pang of regret.
But instead of responding, he turned away, leaving her words hanging in the tense silence between them.
"Don't tempt me, little girl," Shahkhur growled, his voice dripping with menace.
Leila raised her chin defiantly, a spark of courage igniting within her despite the danger she faced. "You don't know what people say about the beast cursed to the forbidden forest," she pressed, her tone steady yet tinged with provocation.
His eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "What are you talking about?"
"You don't know the stories they whisper about you," she continued, her voice softer now, almost daring. "You don't even know what they call you, do you?"
"What?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, deadly whisper.
"Shahkhur," she said, meeting his gaze head-on. "The Beast of the Night."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. Slowly, she pushed herself up from the ground, brushing the dirt off her palms and wiping them against the fabric of her skirt. She straightened, her defiance written in the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes.
"Do you think the villagers—or anyone, for that matter—would see you as human if you walked among them like this?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice held no mockery, just an unsettling truth that cut through the night like a blade.
"Silence!" Shahkhur barked, his fury erupting like a storm.
Before she could react, his hand shot out, grabbing her with a force that made her gasp. He pulled her close, his golden eyes blazing with a dangerous light. "Because I've been lenient with you doesn't mean I can't kill you," he snarled. "The tiger's mate is replaceable. Don't fool yourself into thinking you're special or that I chose you out of affection. You're nothing but a convenience. And if you continue testing me, I won't hesitate to end you."
His fingers tightened around her jaw, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze. But instead of cowering, Leila's eyes blazed with a fury of their own. She was done being tossed around like a rag doll. First by the royal guards and the governor's son and then by this infuriating beast man.
"You can't kill me," she said flatly, her voice void of fear.
His grip faltered for a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing.
"You need me," she continued, her tone unwavering. "And we both know it. It's not about whether I'm disposable or not. It's about the curse. How many more centuries will you rot in this forest, waiting for someone else to come along who can help you? Do you think that's a risk worth taking?"