Viktor's movements were as silent and deliberate as a prowling panther. He turned from the window and closed the distance between them, standing directly before the trembling maid. She was shaking so violently that her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Viktor didn't speak; he simply reached out and caught a thick fistful of her hair, pulling it back with such savage force that her neck arched at a painful, unnatural angle. Tears of sheer agony welled up in her eyes, yet she dared not make a sound.
Viktor leaned close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered in a low, venomous tone, "Do you have any idea what the penalty is for entering my private chambers without permission and disturbing my slumber?"
The maid let out a choked gasp, unable to form a coherent word. Viktor tightened his grip, yanking her head further back, exerting enough pressure that he could have easily snapped her neck with a single twist. His gaze flickered toward the bed, where Alia still lay in deep, undisturbed sleep he was ensuring that the maid's presence wouldn't dare wake her. Viktor's expression was devoid of humanity; there was not a flicker of mercy or compassion in his eyes. He knew exactly how to instill paralyzing fear into the blood of those beneath him, and he was currently exerting that terrifying power upon the helpless woman in his grasp. Viktor's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into her scalp as if marking his ownership. He spoke in a low, terrifyingly cold voice, "You saw exactly how I claimed Alia. Every breath she draws, every surrender she offers it all belongs to me. Now, you will behave exactly as I command, just as I govern Alia. Your fear is worthless, and your tears hold no value. From this moment on, you will exist as my servant, bound by the same absolute discipline I impose upon her."
Viktor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes alight with a sadistic amusement. He spoke slowly, "Alia is the queen of this palace, and you will remain in her shadow. How I broke her, how I tamed her that is not for you to understand. Your only task is to clean every shard on this floor until not a single trace of this mess remains. And after that? After that, you will prepare every corner of this room to suit her pleasure. Remember, my command is the only foundation upon which your existence rests." Alia stirred in her sleep, a soft, involuntary movement. As she shifted to find comfort, her thin silk nightgown slipped, partially baring her chest. Viktor, who had been looming over the terrified maid, froze as the sound of movement caught his attention. His gaze flickered to Alia, and upon seeing her exposed skin, his jaw tightened instantly, his possessiveness flaring like a silent alarm.
He released the maid's hair with a violent shove, sending her stumbling back until she collapsed onto the floor. Without a word, Viktor stalked toward the bed, his presence looming over Alia like a protective, possessive shadow. He reached out and snatched the fallen sheet, covering her body with a swift, aggressive motion to ensure no unworthy eyes especially not those of a lowly servant would linger on her.
When he turned back to the maid, his expression was colder than ice, his gaze devoid of anything but lethal intent. He looked at her as if she were nothing more than vermin. In a calm but thunderous voice, he commanded, "Are you still here? If your eyes ever land on her again after this moment, I will gouge them out. When you leave this room, you will keep your head bowed. And listen well: this sight her beauty, her presence belongs to me and me alone. If I ever hear a single word pass your lips about what you have seen, I will have your skin hanging from the walls of this palace." The maid hurried away as if escaping a curse, scrambling to gather the shards of glass before vanishing into the corridor. As her footsteps faded, the tension in Viktor's frame eased only slightly; his gaze, however, remained fixed on Alia with predatory focus.
Alia was still caught in the haze of sleep, her consciousness struggling to surface. As she shifted, moving her hips slightly to adjust her position, the curve of her body became even more pronounced under the thin silk. Viktor stalked back to the edge of the bed with rhythmic, predatory grace. He placed a heavy, possessive hand over her hip, his palm molding to the softness of her skin.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, "The morning has arrived, Alia. But it feels as though the night has only just begun."
His touch held an undeniable weight of authority, a sensation that made Alia shudder even in her slumber. Viktor traced the curve of her hip with his fingertips, his touch deliberate and masterful, as if he were a sculptor putting the finishing strokes on his most prized creation. The firm, unyielding grip of his hand served as a silent reminder that, no matter how much she drifted in her dreams, her body remained entirely, undeniably his. lia finally blinked, her eyes fluttering open as she felt the intensity of Viktor's gaze and the weight of his hand. She sat up abruptly, her mind racing to catch up with reality. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest, a futile attempt to shield herself from his burning eyes. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, attempting to cover her, yet her posture and the disarray of her silk gown only served to highlight her beauty, making her appear even more exposed under his scrutiny.
Viktor studied her fragile, captivating form for a heartbeat, his expression unreadable. Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms, holding her effortlessly against his chest. Alia was still caught in the haze of her slumber, her head naturally falling against his shoulder. Viktor held her firmly, his presence surrounding her, as he murmured in a low, resonant voice, "You still look so weary, Alia."
He carried her toward the bathroom. Standing at the threshold, Viktor offered a faint, predatory smirk, his eyes locking onto hers with unmistakable possessiveness. He asked in a gravelly whisper, "Will you freshen up on your own, or shall I do it for you? I believe, this morning, it should be my hands that prepare you for the day."Then Alia says what does homemade mean? Alia looked into Viktor's eyes, a trace of hesitation and confusion in her voice as she softly asked, "Are you... are you implying something 'homemade'?"
Viktor stood still for a moment, momentarily taken aback by the unusual phrasing. He furrowed his brows, his gaze sharpening as he searched her face. "What was that? What do you mean by 'homemade'?"
Within seconds, the realization struck him. From the innocence and slight awkwardness in her tone, he understood exactly what she was inferring—that the task of preparing her or looking after her was something he wanted to take into his own hands, as if he were crafting or tending to something intimately his own. Viktor's expression shifted, a knowing glint replacing his confusion. He understood that Alia had grasped the deeper, perhaps slightly risqué implication behind his words.
Alia's cheeks flushed a deep, burning crimson instantly. She realized that her innocent question had inadvertently laid bare her own vulnerability to him.
Viktor let out a smirk of pure satisfaction. He knew exactly what she meant now, and it confirmed how completely she had surrendered to his authority. He pulled her even closer, leaning down to whisper against her ear, "You understood me perfectly, Alia. And that is exactly why I am taking you into the bathroom right now."Viktor carried Alia in his firm embrace straight toward the bathroom. The room was vast and palatial, adorned with cold, polished marble. He placed her gently atop the marble countertop of the vanity. Alia remained with her head bowed in lingering embarrassment, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Viktor stepped in behind her, his large frame casting a shadow that seemed to encircle and claim her. His hands went to work, untangling the knots in her hair with deliberate, practiced care. Alia was so mesmerized by his presence that she dared not move. Viktor began to smooth out her long, silken tresses, his fingers grazing the nape of her neck and her throat with every stroke of the comb, leaving her shivering with a heady, intense anticipation.
Viktor caught Alia's reflection in the expansive mirror. Seeing the flush still burning on her cheeks and the look of vulnerable submission in her eyes, a dark, sadistic sense of satisfaction washed over him. He swept her hair to one side, leaning down close to the sensitive skin of her neck. He inhaled the scent of her hair, whispering in a low, resonant voice, "You have no choice but to be cared for like this. From now on, every movement, every detail of your appearance it will all remain under my absolute control." His touch held no haste, only the cold, unyielding weight of his ownership. Viktor took his time freshening Alia up, his every touch laced with a cold yet profound possessiveness, as if he were meticulously detailing his most prized possession. Alia was still caught in a state of quiet submission, unable to find her voice under the weight of his absolute attention.
Once they emerged from the bathroom, Viktor summoned a maid. His voice was deep and commanded immediate obedience. As the maid entered, he instructed, "Help Alia into her clothes. Ensure everything is flawless."
The maid bowed her head quickly and hurried to comply. While she attended to Alia, Viktor stood in a corner of the room, his gaze sharp and unwavering. He began to prepare himself, as today was no ordinary day; a critical mission awaited him.
He slipped into his signature black suit, a garment that perfectly matched his ruthless persona. Every movement he made carried a calculated, lethal elegance. As he fastened his suit buttons, his eyes remained fixed on Alia. The maid was finishing the final touches, and Viktor watched with the keen focus of a predator. He knew the outcome of this mission would heavily impact his dominion, and ensuring Alia's safety within these walls was just as imperative.
Viktor checked his weapons, securing them at his waist. He then approached Alia, gently but firmly lifting her chin with his fingers. "I am leaving," he stated. "I have business to attend to. Every wall in this palace will ensure your safety. You will stay right here, exactly as I am leaving you." His words were not a request; they were an absolute command, one that Alia had no power to defy.