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Chapter 3 - 3

WARNING!!!

This chapter contains mature themes, sensual scenes, and depictions of abuse that may be distressing for some readers. Please read with discretion.

Shiera woke up drained, her body heavy and sore. Every muscle ached. When she glanced at her phone's screen, her reflection startled her... eyes swollen, dark circles rimmed beneath them, hair tangled like a storm had passed through it. Then her eyes shifted to her neck full of love marks.

She groaned softly as a sharp pain shot through her when she tried to sit up. The sight of the crimson stain on the sheets made her stomach twist.

Bastard, she thought bitterly. What kind of animal does that to someone?

Her chest tightened. She hated how even thinking about it made her feel small, powerless. He'd taken too much—and she didn't even understand why.

Where did he even get that kind of strength? she thought, letting out a long, shaky sigh before collapsing back into bed.

She reached for the other side of the mattress. It was already cold.

What time did he leave? Wasn't he tired? Or maybe it was just her—too exhausted, too sore, too broken.

Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused. The world blurred at the edges until sleep pulled her under again.

The shrill ring of her phone jolted her awake.

"Hello?" she croaked, voice hoarse and heavy with fatigue.

"Shiera? Where are you!?" Her father's voice boomed from the other end, loud enough to make her flinch.

"I'm... on vacation, Dad," she murmured, forcing her tone calm between yawns.

"Vacation? Where? You didn't tell us! Your mother and I are worried sick!"

She held the phone away as his voice nearly split her eardrum. "Abroad," she replied simply. She couldn't tell him... not yet. Not until she figured out how to fix the mess her sister had created.

"Abroad? Where exactly!?" His tone sharpened, slicing through her half-conscious mind.

"I'll call you later. I love you." And before he could speak again, she hung up.

From the doorway, a low grunt rumbled.

Grant stood there, eyes dark and unreadable.

Who the hell is she talking to?

The moment he heard her say I love you, something inside him snapped. Fury simmered beneath his skin, twisting his thoughts.

We just shared a bed, and she's already saying that to someone else?

He strode toward her, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. Shiera blinked, confused by the sudden shift in his expression.

"What's wrong with him now?" she muttered under her breath.

Before she could react, Grant yanked the blanket from her body.

She gasped, clutching a pillow to her chest. "What the hell, Grant!?"

"Don't forget who you're married to, Maine!" His voice thundered across the room—low, dangerous, and echoing with possessive rage.

Grant's grip tightened around her arm as he pulled her roughly toward the side table.

Shiera stumbled, too stunned to process what was happening—everything moved too fast.

The edge of the table pressed against her palms. Her breath hitched. The air grew heavy, thick with fear and disbelief.

"Grant, stop—" Her words caught in her throat.

But his fury spoke louder than reason.

She groaned as soon as she felt him inside her. Her hands clenched on the table as the sharp pain struck her soul. She bit her lips, groaning.

"What... ahh... the hell is wrong with you!?" She said between her moans.

He ignored her. He pulled her hair and thrusted fast.

Shiera couldn't fight back. And She was still weak from last night.

I didn't come here to be his sex slave!

"Ughh!" She gripped at the edge of the table. Her jaw tightened.

"How dare you have another man while you're with me!?" Grant took his thing out and faced Shiera to him.

He lifted her and seated her on the table.

"What? N-" Sheira couldn't finish her words when Grant choked her.

Her eyes widened. She held his hand and tried to pull it away while kicking him.

After few seconds, Grant let her off. She was panting while holding her neck.

"You're insane!" She snapped then jumped off the table.

He grinned. He pushed her to the bed, her face was facing on the bed.

He took his belt and slapped it on her butt.

She flinched and cried in agony. She bit the sheet and clenched her fists.

Fucking animal!

Her cries made him ecstatic as he felt his arousal rising up.

He turned her facing him. He gathered her hands then tied it with his belt.

He brushed his lips against her hungrily as if it was craving her lips.

She pressed her lips not allowing his tongue explore to her mouth.

He hissed and his hand pressed her mouth to open it and he succeed.

He grinned between his kisses. His hands explored to her body, making her tingled.

She groaned when his body pressed to hers. She bit her lips as his lips went down between her thighs.

She moaned, heat rushing up to her. Her tied hands played his hair.

Her moans echoed in the room mixed with the lingering scent of their lust.

"Take me." She whispered in between her moans.

Grant looked up at her. "What?" He teased, grinning.

"Take me please!" She pleaded, her voice was louder than before.

Grant sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled her close, not with tenderness but with pleasure boiling under his skin.

As he taking off the belt that tied her hands, she felt his touching hers. Her eyes widened as she saw his scary big thing. She gulped.

Grant chuckled, "loving it?"

Grant's eyes darkened as he leaned closer. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice low but unyielding.

Shiera's cheeks flushed crimson. She tried to turn away, but his hand came up, fingers firm beneath her chin as he guided her face back toward him.

Their gazes locked—his fierce, hers wavering. For a moment, neither spoke, yet the air between them pulsed with unspoken words, anger and confusion tangled together.

"You're mine now," he said quietly, each word deliberate, slicing through the silence. "Remember that."

Shiera's breath hitched. Her body went rigid, but something in his tone—dangerous, certain, magnetic—rooted her in place. Against her own reason, she found herself nodding, unable to look away.

She didn't understand it.

The fear, the heat, the strange pull that made her heart skip even as her mind screamed to resist.

"Kiss me!" He ordered.

She wrapped her hands on his neck and kissed him. It was warm and passionate.

He kissed back, his hands explored her back.

He put her to the bed gently without breaking their kisses.

"You're driving me crazy, Maine." He said, between their kisses.

Shiera rolled her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not Maine," she muttered bitterly.

Grant raised a brow, a sharp laugh escaping him. "Then who are you?" he asked, amused, thinking she was just being dramatic—another one of Maine's moods.

Shiera looked up at him, her lips curving into a soft, almost teasing smile. "Shiera," she said with a light giggle.

The laughter in Grant's throat died. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop between them.

Moments ago, rage had burned through him like wildfire. But the moment he kissed Shiera and claimed her—the anger dissolved, swallowed by the heat that blazed between them.

Grant brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. For the first time that night, he looked at her not as his enemy, not as a mistake, but as a woman breathing softly beside him.

She looked impossibly serene, almost fragile. Innocent, even. And that realization unsettled him more than his own fury ever did.

He had never once thought of touching Maine. No matter how many times she tried to seduce him, he never gave in—he simply wasn't interested.

But when he kissed her tonight, something felt... different. Unfamiliar. The woman in his arms didn't feel like Maine at all.

This version of her—so alive, so defiant—ignited something in him he couldn't name. He was starving for her, drawn to her in a way that both thrilled and terrified him.

And deep down, Grant knew one undeniable truth: no matter how hard he tried to resist, he couldn't.

OCTOBER 14, 2025

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