SIYAMIKA: Cold Vows. Dark Fire. Royal Ruin

A fierce princess. A ruthless Mughal king. Bound by a cold, political marriage neither wants. In ancient India's royal courts, love will have to fight through silence, fire, and forbidden desire. Historical romance. Slow burn. Dark passion. _____________________ The courtier had laughed. Too loud. Too long. And Siyamika had smiled-just for a moment, just out of politeness. But that was enough. Later that night, the palace corridors whispered with the sound of heavy footsteps. Her chamber door slammed shut. She barely had time to rise before he was in front of her. Zayyan. Cloaked in emerald, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something she couldn't name-but it wasn't cold. Not this time. "Was he amusing, rajkumari?" His voice was quiet. Deadly. "Did his jokes warm your lonely little evenings?" Siyamika stepped back, her spine brushing the carved pillar behind her bed. "I only smiled. It was-" "Too much," he growled. "Too soft. Too pretty. Too tempting." He reached for her chin, fingers curling firm, almost rough. She gasped-more from the closeness than the grip. "You are mine." "And if I have to remind you..." his gaze dropped to her lips, "...I will." _____________________________ Then he kissed her. Not with affection. Not with tenderness With anger. With control. With punishment. Her hands pushed at his chest-resisting, struggling-but he didn't move. Didn't stop until he had tasted every ounce of the fire he tried to bury. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged. Hers was stolen. "Let that be your last smile for another man," he said, voice like thunder. "Or next time, I won't stop there."