"CRAVING FOR HER INNOCENCE"

CHAPTER: 13 The Devil’s Dark Sanctuary✨

The sun had long since set, leaving the William mansion shrouded in a predatory silence. Marry had spent the entire day in David’s study, her hands moving mechanically as she organized his world. Cleaning, dusting, and arranging—these were tasks she knew well from her life at the D'Souza house, but here, every book she touched felt like it belonged to a ghost. The old housekeeper had brought her food with a simple, chilling instruction: "Master’s orders. Follow them." It was her inner strength that kept her standing. Beneath her calm exterior, a storm was brewing. She was a prisoner in a golden cage, waiting for the moment she could break free. Back in her small room, her eyes fell upon her mother’s framed photograph. A sharp pang of conflict hit her heart. She remembered how David had been the only one to save this last memory of her mother from the fire. For a fleeting second, her heart softened, but the reality of her situation quickly hardened it again.

"He isn’t a good man," she whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling. "He’s a vulture who fed on our tragedy. He didn't care about my dignity or my father's life; he only cares about his debt. He isn't a human... he's a Devil in a tailored suit."

Her silent tears were interrupted by a sharp knock. "Master is home," a servant announced, her voice laced with a cold edge. "He’s calling for you."

Marry’s heart hammered against her ribs. The trauma of the previous night resurfaced like a physical weight. I won’t let him near me, she vowed, even as her legs felt like lead. As she stepped into the hallway, the servant—the one who had been eyeing her with pure jealousy all day—smirked.

"He’s in the shower. He wants you in his room," the girl sneered. "I don't know what spell you've cast on him, but don't think you're special."

Marry didn't respond. She walked toward the master suite, her breath hitching with every step. She pushed the heavy oak door, and it swung open with a haunting silence.

The room was a testament to David’s soul. It was a dark sanctuary—luxurious yet suffocating. Every inch of the room was cloaked in shades of obsidian and midnight blue. The velvet curtains were so thick they seemed to swallow the moonlight. The bed was draped in black silk, and the air carried the heavy, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and expensive wine. It was a room designed for a King of Shadows.

"You've been admiring the room for five minutes," a dark, gravelly voice sliced through the air. "Perhaps you should look at its owner for a change."

Marry turned and immediately looked away, her face flushing with heat. David was standing near the window, shirtless, holding a glass of dark wine. The dim light traced the dangerous contours of his muscular chest and the tattoos that marked his skin like battle scars.

"I... I was told you had work for me," she stammered, her eyes fixed on the dark rug beneath her feet.

David enjoyed the way she trembled. It was a power trip he hadn't expected to relish this much. "I didn't bring you here to stare at the walls. I prefer a bathtub today, and you... you are going to assist me."

"I won't do that," Marry whispered, her defiance flickering like a dying candle.

David stepped closer, the scent of wine and dominance surrounding her. "I didn't ask, Marry. I commanded. Understand this: if I have to teach you my way, you might not like the person you become after the lesson." His voice was a low growl, deep and heavy with a threat she couldn't ignore.

Minutes later, the bathroom was filled with the thick, white mist of steam. Marry stepped inside, her eyes blurring from the heat. In the center of the room sat a massive, black marble tub. David was already inside, his back to her, the water glistening against his broad, powerful shoulders.

"Rub my back," he ordered, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Marry’s hands shook so violently she almost dropped the sponge. As she knelt by the tub and her fingertips made the first contact with his skin, a literal jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them. David’s fist clenched beneath the water; the touch of her soft, feminine hands against his rugged, scarred back was a sensation he wasn't prepared for.

She felt the sheer strength of him—the hard muscle, the tension of a man who lived on the edge of life and death.

"Lower," David commanded, his eyes closed.

Marry moved her hands down, her heart racing so fast she feared it might stop. This was a stranger, a monster, yet the intimacy of the moment was suffocating.

"Lower still," he whispered.

The tension snapped. Marry couldn't take it anymore. The fear, the humiliation, and the overwhelming proximity broke her patience. She dropped the soap into the water and turned to bolt, but David was faster. With a predatory reflex, his hand shot out of the water, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward him with terrifying force.

Splash!

The world turned upside down as Marry was yanked into the warm, soapy water. She landed directly against him, her face inches from his. She could feel his hot, wine-scented breath on her lips. Her small, soft hands were pressed firmly against his rock-hard, wet chest. For a moment, time died. The hatred, the debt, the world outside—it all vanished. There was only the roar of their blood and the intensity of their gaze. David’s blue eyes were like a frozen ocean, deep and dangerous.

Suddenly, the overhead rain shower malfunctioned or was triggered, sending a deluge of ice-cold water down on them. The shock snapped the spell. Marry scrambled to get out of the tub, her clothes soaking wet and clinging to her every curve like a second skin.

As she stood on the marble floor, her foot slipped on the soapy surface. She braced for the fall, but David was already out of the tub, his powerful arms catching her by the waist. The cold water continued to pour over them, drenching them both.

Marry looked up, her vision blurred by the water, and found herself lost in his gaze again. For a split second, the fear vanished, replaced by an agonizingly deep connection. David leaned in, his grip on her waist tightening, drawing her body flush against his. The heat of his skin through her wet clothes was agonizing.

Then, just as suddenly as he had caught her, David reached past her, twisted the door handle, and practically shoved her out of the steaming bathroom into the cold air of the bedroom.

Marry stood there, shivering, gasping for air, her mind a chaotic mess of confusion. David stood in the doorway, the water dripping from his hair, a mysterious, dark smile playing on his lips.

"Control yourself, Miss Marry," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Don't forget... you're supposed to hate me, right?"

He slammed the door shut, leaving Marry alone in the dark, her heart screaming a truth she wasn't ready to face.

CAN WE TAKE A MOMENT TO BREATHE?! 😱🚿

That bathroom scene was the definition of INTENSITY! From the dark, devilish vibe of David’s room to that accidental splash in the tub—the chemistry is absolutely electric! David is playing a dangerous game with Marry’s heart, and Marry is struggling to keep her walls up.

Did David catch her because he cared, or was he just asserting his power?

That last dialogue... "Don't forget you hate me." Is David reminding Marry, or is he reminding HIMSELF