"I am talking to you, mate," Shahkhur growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that made her blood run cold.
Leila's gurgling didn't stop, her vision swimming as tears welled up in her eyes from the lack of oxygen. She clawed at his hand weakly, her strength no match for his.
"I… ugh… can't… speak," she managed to choke out, her voice a strained whisper.
Realizing her plight he released her with a careless flick of his arm. She flew backward and crumpled to the ground, landing on her knees. Gasping, she clung to her throat, her breaths ragged as she coughed violently, desperate to draw air into her burning lungs.
"Now that you can speak, tell me who the man is," Shahkhur demanded, his tone colder, sharper.
Before she could even blink, he was standing over her again, his towering frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. She shuddered, fear gripping her as she met his piercing gaze.
His accusation stung, but she was too disoriented to respond right away. He wasn't even questioning her absence anymore; he was fixated on the scent of another man.
"H-he's my brother," she whispered hoarsely, still clutching her sore throat. "That's Arman."
Shahkhur's crimson eyes narrowed, his expression unrelenting. "That's not his scent. There's someone else."
He leaned closer, his face just inches from hers, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed her again. For a fleeting moment, she pitied him. He claimed to want to be human, but his actions and instincts were those of a beast.
Her mind raced, searching for what he could be referring to. Then it hit her—the prince.
Leila's gaze hardened. Despite her fear, anger bubbled to the surface. "I only had to be in contact with him for a while," she spat. "And it's all your fault! You're the one who killed the governor's son and the guards!"
Her words came out in a rush, her frustration boiling over. But Shahkhur didn't seem to care about her accusations.
Instead, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her toward him. The force made her stumble, and she collided with his chest, her balance faltering.
"I came here to kill you," Shahkhur said, his voice low and dangerous. His crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light, pinning Leila in place. "But now that I see you, I feel the need to remove the scent of that male from you."
Leila barely had time to react before Shahkhur's lips pressed against the delicate skin of her neck. The sensation of his sharp teeth grazing her flesh sent a shiver down her spine. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips, and her face burned with embarrassment.
Her body froze.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion. She wanted to push him away, but it was as if her strength had been drained from her limbs.
"Ah…" Another sound escaped her as his teeth brushed her collarbone, a strange sensation flooding her senses. It wasn't painful—it was oddly stimulating, almost hypnotic.
Her legs threatened to give out beneath her, but Shahkhur caught her effortlessly, pulling her closer against his solid frame. Despite the dirt and sweat clinging to his body, he exuded a scent that was intoxicating, warm, and enticing.
Leila's thoughts became hazy. She felt lightheaded, as though a spell had been cast over her. Each bite sent an electric pulse through her veins, and she couldn't tell if it was fear, pleasure, or something far more dangerous.
Shahkhur leaned in closer, tilting her chin upward with a firm but gentle hand. Leila's lashes fluttered, her gaze involuntarily flicking to his lips. The scent of him now clung to her like a second skin, overpowering any sense of reason.
His lips brushed hers lightly, tentative, almost as if asking for permission. Her breath hitched, her pulse racing. She didn't want this—she shouldn't want this. But her eyes closed on their own accord, her body betraying her better judgment.
Shahkhur's lips pressed against hers, firm and commanding, his arms molding her body against his. The kiss was intense, consuming, like fire igniting her very soul. His hunger was palpable, and her scent filled his senses, driving him to claim her even further.
In the corner of the room, Arman groaned softly as he stirred back to consciousness. His head throbbed from the impact, but panic surged through him when the memory of what had happened came rushing back.
"Leila," he gasped, scrambling to his feet. His eyes darted toward the source of movement, and what he saw froze him in place.
There, in the middle of the room, his sister was locked in a passionate embrace with the very beast that had flung him across the room. Shahkhur held her as though she belonged to him, their lips locked shamelessly.
"What do you think you're doing with my sister?" Arman's voice was thick with fury as he stormed forward. The tension in the room was suffocating, but despite his presence, neither Shahkhur nor Leila seemed to notice him.
With a surge of anger, Arman grabbed Leila by the arm and yanked her away from Shahkhur's grip, breaking the kiss.
Leila gasped, her cheeks burning with the full force of the situation. Her eyes widened in realization, the weight of her actions crashing down on her. She had just kissed Shahkhur—shamelessly—in front of her younger brother, in their mother's room.
"Ah…" Her voice came out as a breathless, almost confused sound.
"How dare you take my mate away from me?" Shahkhur's voice boomed with authority and fury, his towering presence making the air feel heavier. He stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger, clearly unwilling to let them go without a fight.
Arman stood his ground, his protective instinct flaring. "No, how dare you be indecent with my sister?!" He snapped back, his chest rising and falling with each harsh breath. "Do you think it's proper to get physical with a woman you're not married to, especially in the presence of her family?"
Leila bit down on her lip, the guilt and embarrassment making her feel smaller with each word Arman spoke. That kiss—it had been her first.
"Arman…" Leila whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to stop him.
But he wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on Shahkhur, and his protective anger was overriding any other emotion. "You shut up," Arman snapped at her, his voice sharp. "You hit me."
Leila didn't know how to respond to that. The whole situation was spiraling out of control, and she was caught in the middle of it. She finally managed to look at Shahkhur, who still stood towering over them. "That's Shahkhur," she said weakly, unsure of what to feel. But deep down, she knew that if Shahkhur had truly meant to kill them, he would have done it already.
Shahkhur, however, was not concerned with their arguments. His eyes never left Leila, and his expression remained cold and unwavering.
"Give my mate back to me," he ordered, his voice dismissive.
Leila's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red from the embarrassment. She wished the darkness could swallow her whole.
"I am not your mate," she insisted, her voice firm despite the tremble of uncertainty within her. "Didn't you say the mark was temporary?"
Shahkhur's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, there was an odd pause before he spoke again, his tone softer but no less intense. "It is temporary," he admitted, stepping closer. "But until I break the curse, the mark will remain."
Leila's breath hitched. The implications of his words hit her all at once. If Shahkhur didn't break his curse, the mark wouldn't fade away.
Was it the mark that made him smell so intoxicating? Leila couldn't help but wonder, her mind still swirling from the kiss. If that was true, then the mark was far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.
As they kissed, everything else faded into nothingness. There was no room for thought, no space for concern. All that mattered was Shahkhur—his presence, his touch, the heat of his breath against her skin. His lips were gentle, but his kiss was powerful, and the soft slide of his tongue against hers made her feel everything, all at once. It was an overwhelming sensation that she could neither deny nor resist. It felt good in a way she couldn't explain, and she hated how much she craved it.
The moment passed, leaving her flushed and embarrassed.
"Shahkhur?" Arman's voice broke through her thoughts, and she turned to him, trying to pull herself together. His confusion was evident. "Didn't the legend say he was a wild beast? This is a man."
At that, Shahkhur's golden eyes turned to Arman, an unreadable expression on his face. His voice, now laced with irritation, cut through the silence.
"Do you want to see my fangs?" he asked, his tone dark and almost mocking. Without waiting for an answer, he opened his mouth, revealing elongated canines—impossibly sharp and wickedly curved. Arman's eyes widened in shock, and he stepped back, almost stumbling into Leila as he took in the terrifying sight.
"My mother hasn't woken up," Leila murmured, her voice shaking slightly. "She hasn't said a word since we got back. What did you do to her?"
Arman, who had been too focused on Shahkhur's display, finally turned his gaze toward their mother. His face twisted with concern. Without thinking, he moved toward the bed, but before he could reach her, Shahkhur stepped in his path, blocking him with his massive frame.
"You didn't keep your end of the deal, so I killed her," Shahkhur said coldly, his voice devoid of any remorse.