Page 113 of Nocturne

I could barely consider my breathing after he gave me the most intense orgasms of my life, and I couldn’t even start to imagine the state of my body or mind if he decided to use his…well…his member.

I could say the word inside my head, can I not? Of course, I could. But why couldn’t I?

“Understood?”

His rough voice makes me look up at him and momentarily forget his words. I nod without actually knowing what he had asked for.

This is what being owned by him means.

It means that he would own every single inch of my body, fill my mind and do with both of them as he pleases.

“I won’t hurt you, not unless it is for your pleasure. You come whenever I send for you, you part your legs whenever I say so, and let me fuck and own whenever and however I please. I own your time, your exclusivity and your attention.”

I think this is the longest he has ever spoken. It is just my luck that when he does, it is to punch the last nail into my coffin.

Outwardly, maybe I might have appeared confused or blank, but inside, there are so many emotions running around that it makes no sense anymore. I am aroused, insulted, disgusted, elated, affronted, shocked, angry, afraid and also excited. Nothing made sense anymore.

“How long?” I ask.

Even if I need two or three business days to let his words register inside my brain, I have enough sanity left in me to ask the question to prepare myself. He says nothing as I sit up and adjust my skirt around my legs. I look at the pocket into which he stuffed my panty earlier.

Well, I’m not getting that back anymore. At least that perverseness should disgust me. But it only makes me excited and slightly giddy imagining him growing hard whenever he looks at it and thinks back to this night.

“Until I say so.”

His words squash down that slight happiness and have me jumping down the table. My legs are a little wobbly, and the jerk of a man does nothing to help me. Maybe he hopes I will fall face-first on the ground.

I glare at him. “You need to give me a specific amount of time to prepare myself. You will-“

His hand that is on the table shoots out suddenly and pinches my cheeks together in a tight grip. His thumb caresses my forcefully hollowed-out bottom lip while his eyes flash in danger, and he stands to his staggering height.

“You forget that you are in no position to be making demands, little siren. What I say, goes, and I say I will own you until further notice. If you are not okay with it, find a way.”

My heart pitter-patters inside my rib cage, every single word of his sending it into overdrive.

“And you will tell me who this bastard is. You are playing your little game now, but I will own every single part of you. I will not stop until I own your loyalty, fear and godly worship and by the time I’m done with you, there will be nothing left for anyone else to take,”

He promises before his lips come crashing down on mine, drawing blood.

Thirty-One

Ara

It is true—cancer destroys families. I know it now, deep in my bones.

Everything had been fine until the day we got the news. The doctor’s words hit us like a freight train: Ma had osteosarcoma—bone cancer. By the time it was diagnosed, it was already far too advanced. Papa blamed himself—said he should’ve pressed her harder, should’ve ignored her refusals to see a doctor when she complained about the pain in her joints. I think we all blamed ourselves.

Ma, the woman who used to race through the mornings around our mansion with a smile, no longer could. She couldn’t run anymore. Not because she didn’t want to but because her body was betraying her. The pain was too much. We should’ve seen the signs. We should’ve dragged her to the doctor.

The treatments drained her. We watched as the vibrant, full-of-life woman we knew slowly become a shadow of herself. But she never gave up. No, Ma was always the strongest person I knew. She fought with every ounce of her being, wearing a smile even when the treatments ravaged her. Despite the endless rounds of chemo, she still showed up for us, for our school events, and for the meetings at her NGOs. She never let us see how much it hurt.

Papa’s guilt was unbearable. Seeing Ma so fragile, so broken, tore him apart. The love they had—so deep, so unshakeable—was like something from a fairy tale. But watching her fade,piece by piece, took everything from him. It even bled into his work, into the business he had built. That was when Vir slithered into our lives like the snake he was.

I’m convinced now he waited for Ma to weaken. He wanted her to be less of a threat to his plans. He saw her as an obstacle, and as soon as he could, he wormed his way into Papa’s business undetected. He poisoned our lives and our trust in ways we never saw coming. He was always a quiet threat, like a shadow in the corner of a room.

Then came the light. The doctors told us Ma was cancer-free. I remember the flood of hope that washed over me like a dam breaking. She was alive. She had survived. But her heart had taken the worst of the treatment. It was weakened. The chemo had poisoned her body, but they said if we kept her stress-free, she’d be okay. She was still with us.

Papa—we all held on to him, praying for him to stay strong. When the doctors told us she had beaten cancer, I remember the relief on his face, the way he clung to Iyra and me, burying his face in our shoulders, crying for the first time in years. We thought that was it—the worst was behind us.

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