SARANYA'S POV

The white marble floors of Devraath Mahal felt cold beneath my bare feet.

Everything inside the palace looked unreal. Even the air inside Anantgadh's royal mahal carried power. And now... I belonged here.

No.

A small nervous breath escaped my lips. I belonged to him. The thought itself made my fingers tighten around the edge of my red bridal dupatta.

The heavy lehenga still covered me completely, layers of red and gold silk spreading around me over the enormous bed placed in the center of the royal chamber. Diamonds rested against my throat. Bangles at my wrists. sindoor sat perfectly in my mang while the mangalsutra remained against my skin like a permanent reminder of who I was now.

Saranya Rajveer Singh Devraath.

Wife of the Crown Prince of Anantgadh. The room itself looked larger than entire houses. White marble walls carved with ancient royal designs. Long silk curtains moving softly with the cold night breeze entering through the open balcony. Golden lamps glowing against the polished floors.

Fresh roses decorated every corner of the room while candles burned quietly beside the bed prepared for the royal wedding night. Yet despite all the beauty around me... my heartbeat only grew more nervous. Because I was waiting for him. Rajveer Singh Devraath.

My husband. The future king of Anantgadh. A man whose presence alone was enough to silence an entire room. Outside the chamber, faint sounds of the royal celebration still echoed through the palace. Music. Laughter. Footsteps of servants moving around.

But inside this room... everything felt painfully quiet. My eyes lowered automatically toward the mangalsutra resting against my neck. I still remembered the feeling of his fingers brushing my skin during the wedding rituals earlier.

Rajveer had not looked emotional while marrying me. He had looked certain. As if this marriage was not a beginning. It was ownership finally becoming official. The sudden sound of footsteps outside the room instantly straightened my posture.

My breath slowed. The large carved doors opened slowly. Every servant standing outside immediately lowered their heads the moment he appeared. Rajveer walked inside dressed in a royal sherwani, broad shoulders carrying authority so naturally that even the air inside the room shifted around him. Calm. Sharp. Untouchable.

My eyes lowered instantly. The servants quietly closed the doors behind him before disappearing outside. Click. We were alone. My heartbeat became uneven. I immediately stood from the bed without thinking.

Rajveer's gaze settled on me slowly. Not hurried. Not emotional. Just observant. His eyes moved over every detail carefully. My sindoor. My jewelry. The bridal veil covering my head.

As if checking whether everything belonging to him remained perfectly in place. Something about that gaze always made warmth and nervousness rise together inside me, Then finally he looked directly at me.

For a moment neither of us spoke. The silence stretched long enough for my pulse to become painfully loud in my ears. Rajveer slowly stepped closer. One step. Then another. His shoes echoed softly against the white marble floor.

My fingers tightened together automatically. He stopped right in front of me. Close enough for me to smell the faint scent of sandalwood and expensive perfume surrounding him. Close enough for me to feel small beneath his presence. His eyes rested on my face.

"You look beautiful." The deep calmness in his voice made my breath catch softly. Not because the compliment sounded romantic. Because it sounded possessive. Like admiration mixed with ownership. My gaze lowered further.

"Thank you..." A faint silence followed. Then his fingers slowly lifted toward my forehead. I froze instantly. He touched the sindoor resting in my mang gently before brushing his thumb against the edge of it. A shiver moved beneath my skin. he murmured quietly.

My heartbeat stumbled at the approval in his tone. Rajveer's eyes moved toward the mangalsutra around my neck next. His fingers lightly touched the black beads resting against my collarbone. "This never leaves your neck."

The words were calm. Simple. Yet they sounded like a royal command. I nodded softly. "Ji." Something unreadable flickered through his eyes. Satisfaction perhaps. Or maybe possession.

Rajveer stepped away slightly before loosening the buttons of his sherwani cuffs with calm movements. "You will wear sindoor every day," he continued casually, like discussing palace rules instead of my life. "Even inside the mahal." "Yes."

"You will inform the staff before leaving your chambers." "Yes." "And if you ever need something" His eyes lifted toward me again. "You ask me directly." Not the servants. Not the royal family.

The meaning behind it settled quietly inside my chest. I belonged under his authority now. And strangely... I had already started accepting it. Maybe because everyone around Rajveer obeyed him naturally. Maybe because refusing him never even felt like an option.

Or maybe because there was something terrifyingly addictive about the way he controlled everything around him so effortlessly. His gaze remained fixed on me for a long moment. Then unexpectedly he reached forward and removed the heavy bridal veil from my head himself.

His fingers brushed my hair carefully while placing the veil aside. "You don't need to cover your face in front of me." The intimacy in those words made warmth spread across my cheeks instantly. Rajveer watched my reaction silently. Always watching. Always noticing.

That was another dangerous thing about him. Nothing escaped his attention. Not even my nervous breathing. He moved toward the table beside the bed and poured himself water while I remained standing exactly where I was. Even from a distance, his presence filled the entire room.

He drank calmly before speaking again. "From tomorrow onward, the palace staff will prepare your schedule." I listened quietly. "You will attend breakfast with the family every morning." "Yes." "You will sit beside me during royal gatherings."

"You will not refuse when elders speak to you." Another soft nod left me. Rajveer placed the glass back down before turning toward me fully again. "And when we are alone..." My breath slowed instantly.

"You listen only to me." The low calmness in his voice wrapped around the room dangerously. I lowered my eyes immediately. "Ji." Silence followed again. Not awkward. Heavy.

The kind of silence where every small movement suddenly feels louder. My bangles shifted softly when I adjusted my dupatta. Rajveer's eyes immediately moved toward the sound. His gaze darkened slightly. "Come here."

The command came quietly. Yet my feet obeyed before my thoughts could process it. I walked toward him slowly until I stopped close enough for his shadow to fall over me completely. My pulse quickened. He looked down at me for a few silent seconds before lifting one hand toward my neck.

His fingers brushed against the mangalsutra again. Possessively. Almost thoughtfully. "As of tonight," he said softly, "you are the future queen of Anantgadh." The title sounded heavy. Terrifying. Beautiful.

"But before that..." His thumb tilted my chin upward gently. "You are my wife." Something about the way he said those words made my stomach tighten softly. Not romance. Not tenderness. Authority.

Like the role itself belonged to him before it belonged to me. His eyes slowly moved over my face. "You understand that?" "Yes..." My voice came out quieter than intended. Rajveer's fingers remained beneath my chin for another moment before finally releasing me.

Then without another word, he walked toward the large wardrobe placed against the far wall. I watched silently as he opened one side and removed a long white box from inside. He placed it carefully on the bed. "Open it."

I immediately obeyed. Inside lay a saree. Soft silk. Deep wine-red color. Elegant. Far more intimate than the heavy bridal lehenga I wore now.

Along with it rested diamond jewelry and a blouse delicate enough to make heat rise into my cheeks. My fingers froze over the fabric. Rajveer's gaze remained fixed on me. "It's for tonight." My heartbeat instantly became uneven.

I lowered my eyes quickly. He stepped closer again. "The staff already prepared the dressing room." I nodded softly. "You'll wear this now." There was no hesitation in his tone.

No uncertainty. Just calm expectation. And somehow that made the command feel even more intimate. I carefully lifted the saree into my hands. The silk felt cool against my fingers. Beautiful. Expensive. Chosen personally by him.

The realization itself made nervousness curl deeper inside my chest. As I turned toward the dressing room, his voice stopped me again. "Saranya." I immediately looked back. Rajveer stood near the bed, one hand slipping casually into his pocket while his dark eyes remained completely fixed on me.

When he spoke again, his voice lowered slightly. "Wear your hair open." My breath caught softly. Such a small instruction. Yet the intimacy behind it sent warmth through my entire body. "Yes."

Another long silence passed between us. Then finally his gaze moved slowly over me once more before stopping at my eyes. "And come back quickly." The calm possessiveness in those words followed me all the way toward the dressing room.

And as the doors closed behind me... I realized something terrifyingly clear. Inside Devraath Mahal, I was no longer simply Saranya. I was Rajveer Singh Devraath's wife. And everyone inside Anantgadh knew exactly what that meant.

RAJVEER'S POV

I had seen kingdoms bow before the Devraath name.

Men feared disappointing me more than death itself. Yet nothing inside Anantgadh had ever tested my control the way Saranya did simply by existing inside my palace wearing my sindoor. Even the thought settled heavily inside my chest.

The servants moved quickly around the royal chamber while I stood near the balcony overlooking the glowing white marble courtyards of Devraath Mahal. Hundreds of lamps illuminated the palace beneath the dark Anantgadh sky while distant wedding music still echoed through the kingdom. But my attention remained inside this room.

"Those flowers go there," I ordered calmly without turning. The workers instantly obeyed.

Fresh roses were arranged around the carved bed while golden candles illuminated the chamber in soft warm light. Silk curtains moved gently with the night breeze entering through the balcony arches. Every detail had to be perfect. Not because Anantgadh expected it. Because she would enter this room tonight as my wife for the first time.

And nothing belonging to Rajveer Singh Devraath was ever treated carelessly.

I loosened the collar of my black sherwani slowly while another servant adjusted the final decorations near the bed. The room already smelled of roses, sandalwood, and expensive incense. Still not enough. "Change the candles," I said quietly.

The servant immediately lowered his head. "Yes, Yuvraj." My eyes shifted toward the closed dressing room doors. Saranya had been inside for several minutes now. Changing into the saree I personally selected for her. The image alone darkened something inside me.

I still remembered the way she looked earlier sitting on my bed draped in heavy bridal red, nervous hands trembling slightly beneath jewelry carrying my name. Sindoor in her mang. Mangalsutra around her neck. Mine. The realization had followed me through every wedding ritual today. Every vow.

Every blessing. Every time people addressed her as my wife. My gaze lowered briefly toward my hands. Those same hands had tied the mangalsutra around her neck hours ago. Claiming her before the entire kingdom. And strangely... it still did not feel enough.

"Leave." My voice cut through the room calmly. Every servant immediately stopped moving. Within seconds the chamber emptied completely, leaving only silence behind. I sat down on the large sofa facing the bed while adjusting the cufflinks at my wrist slowly. Then I waited.

The anticipation itself felt dangerous. Not lust alone. Possession. Something darker. Because Saranya did not understand yet what becoming my wife truly meant inside Anantgadh. A Devraath bride did not merely share a surname.

She became part of her husband completely. Mind. Body. Soul. The soft sound of anklets approaching finally reached my ears. My gaze lifted instantly toward the dressing room doors.

And for the first time that entire night... my control nearly slipped. The doors opened slowly. Two dasis walked out first before stepping aside respectfully. Then Saranya appeared between them. Beautiful did not feel like a strong enough word anymore.

The deep wine-red saree wrapped around her body perfectly, soft silk falling low against her waist while the delicate blouse exposed more skin than anything I had ever seen her wear before.

Her hair remained completely open exactly as I instructed. Dark waves falling over bare shoulders. Fresh sindoor filled her mang beautifully.

Diamond jewelry glittered softly beneath the candlelight while the waist chain around her stomach drew my eyes immediately toward the exposed curve of her waist and navel. Even her payal echoed softly with every nervous step she took.

The room became painfully silent. I watched her slowly lower her gaze the moment our eyes met. Good.

The dasi quietly adjusted the edge of her saree before leaving the chamber. The doors closed again. This time neither of us moved. I remained seated on the sofa while my eyes traveled slowly over every detail of my wife.

Something primal settled inside my chest at the sight of her dressed for me. Only me. Saranya's fingers tightened softly around the edge of her saree beneath my gaze. Nervous.

The perfect future queen of Anantgadh. Yet the visible skin above her blouse made dark possessiveness rise inside me instantly. Too beautiful. Too delicate. If another man ever looked at her this way.

The thought itself hardened my jaw. Mine. Only mine. "Come here." My voice came out deeper than intended. Saranya immediately obeyed.

The soft sound of her anklets filled the room as she walked toward me slowly before stopping directly in front of where I sat. Close enough for me to notice her uneven breathing. Close enough to smell roses in her hair. I leaned back against the sofa calmly while looking up at her. The saree revealed the smooth curve of her stomach every time she breathed.

Beautiful. Dangerously beautiful. Then finally, I spoke. "Get on your knees, my Ardhangini." A visible shiver moved through her body at the title. But she obeyed instantly.

Slowly lowering herself before me on the white marble floor. The sight nearly destroyed the remaining restraint inside me. My wife kneeling before me wearing my sindoor and mangalsutra while the diamonds at her throat No king in history had ever possessed something this beautiful.

Saranya lowered her gaze respectfully before bending forward gently. Then her hands touched my feet. The traditional ritual. Rajmata had clearly explained everything to her already. The soft touch of her fingers against my skin sent a dark sense of satisfaction through me.

Not arrogance. This was how things were meant to be. I watched quietly as she completed the ritual before sitting back on her knees again. Her eyes remained lowered. Obedient. Perfect.

My hand slowly lifted toward her chin. I tilted her face upward carefully until her eyes met mine. Nervousness flickered there instantly. Good. I wanted her aware of me. Aware of the fact that she belonged to me now.

"From tonight onward," I said quietly, "your place is beside me." My thumb brushed softly against her lower lip. "And beneath my protection." The word protection sounded gentler than the reality behind it. Because men like me protected through control.

Through possession. Through ownership. My fingers moved toward the mangalsutra resting against her throat again. I touched it slowly.

Her voice barely rose above a whisper. The sound alone affected me more than it should have. I studied her face silently for several seconds. Then finally I gave the command I had been thinking about since the moment she entered this room. "Give yourself to me," I said softly.

Her breathing visibly slowed. "As my Ardhangini." My thumb brushed her jaw gently. "And I'll take my place as your husband." Saranya understood immediately.

I saw it in her eyes. The nervous warmth. Slowly, her trembling fingers lifted toward the bridal veil resting lightly over part of her head and shoulders. Then she removed it herself.

The fabric slipped down beside her silently. And the sight nearly ruined my composure completely. Without the veil hiding her, the low blouse exposed more of her soft skin beneath the candlelight.

I leaned forward slightly, unable to look away from her. Even kneeling before me, Saranya carried elegance impossible to ignore.

My obsession.

I slid my hand slowly into her open hair before tightening my fingers gently at the back of her neck. A soft breath escaped her lips instantly. "Look at me." She obeyed immediately.

Those beautiful nervous eyes lifted toward mine again. And in that moment, watching her kneeling before me wearing my name against her skin I realized something dangerous.

This marriage was never going to satisfy me peacefully.

Because no matter how much of Saranya I claimed...I would always want more.

and now our wedding night is began.