Mating Enigma Of The Luna

Chapter 5

Her existence as a girl from a noble family was difficult enough; she couldn't fathom what the other ladies had to go through. Were they all experiencing bedroom invasions? She felt dizzy and her head spin. Suddenly, she noticed a dark figure moving towards the tent door.

The speaker cried, "My lord!" and distant footfalls echoed the cry. Not even Easton , who kept talking in his monologue, was expecting this.

Easton growled as he reached his free hand under her dress, "I own you now. I can w***e you off and your family would not care." She put up a valiant fight, but he could feel the strain.

Her bra and briefs. She put up a valiant fight, but her resistance was futile, and his hands were soon touching the linen beside her.

Her eyes welled up with tears. Her anxiety level skyrocketed. He watched as the defeat spread across her face. When he saw her shaking her head, he let go of her mouth.

"N-no—"

"I can ruin and violate this body as I wish," Easton said condescendingly. To quote Hamlet's father: "No one will say a single thing. There is no one in this world to protect you, Indira Lochan Levi."

A figure emerged from the shadows and walked straight up to the bed, saying, "Except me." His tone was icier than a tombstone. He glared menacingly, clearly planning a m******e.

Easton 's eyes widened in shock as his head swiveled. Often heard as "What the—"

An gigantic hand reached out and roughly grasped Easton 's face. Indira screamed in dismay.

Indira couldn't get a proper breath in. From the shadows emerged a tall, gloomy man carrying a blade the length of his leg. With eyes as cold and dead as the darkness, he was more lovely than the moon.

There are werewolves in Andricia!

It had already been too late. It was a surprise to Easton .

As Indira exhaled, she heard a resounding THUD.

Easton screamed, "ARGHHHHH!" in agony as his head was cracked open with a single hand.

As Indira screamed, something icy splashed all over her. Vampires were heartless beings. Her eyes blinked once. Her clothes still smelled like guts.

Blood. It. Was. Everywhere.

Easton 's chest wound gushed bloody red fluid. In the next instant, the aggressor had drawn his firearm. Blood splattered as he swung his sword in one swift motion.

Then Easton 's body slid down Indira’s back and landed on the floor. His face fell to the ground, and his dead lips brushed against the tile.

Indira gazed at the gleaming blade in the intruder's hands. He clutched it so hard that veins popped out of his forearms and his muscles tensed. When she noticed the massive tent in the back of his trousers, she uttered a weak gasp.

What do you think, "Is this how a mourning wife greets her dying husband?"

What she saw was something she never in a million years could have imagined happening.

Her abuser had been killed by her first husband. The enraged Madhur Andricia was still alive.

A corpse was out and about. He was still breathing and wielded a sword that hardly reached to his ankle.

Indira didn't have faith in what she saw. She thought they were plotting against her. Possibly a hallucination. Perhaps Easton had murdered her and she had been unaware. However, Easton 's body, crumpled and covered in blood, lay lifeless on the tent floor.

Indira gasped, unable to utter anything while staring at Easton 's lifeless body. Her heart was racing in anticipation of what was about to happen, and she finally tore her eyes away.

Indira’s "I-I uhm..." became stuck in her throat.

Madhur was noticeably stronger and more muscular than she recalled. He doesn't look like a soldier just back from the front. His freshly ironed black tunic added to his menacing appearance.

He looked at her from head to toe, scanning her with cold, stealthy eyes. His hands, protected by gauntlets, gripped his blade more tightly.

Madhur said her he regretted not having ripped out her heart with his own two hands.

"P-Papa told me you were dead," Indira cried out in shock.

Madhur's silvery flames flickered in his eyes like a warning. To paraphrase, "On the day of my supposed death, you were going to be a candidate up for grabs at the ceremony?"

Indira’s body tensed. His voice had a deep, scratchy rumble to it, like someone rubbing their fingers down the bark of a tree.

She immediately recognized him as the man who had rescued her from Easton . He was lurking in the shadows behind her. What took her so long to recognize her husband?

His sombre tone sent chills down her spine as he said, "I didn't expect warm wishes, but to think you'd be here without seeing my dead body."

Her spouse had recently returned home from a war. He, a human, had defied the odds and escaped. Indira had been presented as a candidate for the Decade Tribute Ceremony, yet here she was, in bed with another guy.

Indira stuttered, "A-Andricia werewolves," her heart sinking at the news. To paraphrase, "P-Papa said y-you were human."

"I never said I was," Madhur retorted in a deadpan. To paraphrase, "He just assumed when I showed up."

Indira had no idea what was going on in his mind. She didn't know what to tell him. What might she say to justify her current situation?

Indira persisted, "Y-you're alive too," which just made him more irritated. The length of time she was given to talk was unprecedented. She became uneasy at the realisation that she did not know his title. She didn't know what to name him. Is that you, my Duke? At the time of their union, he was the Duke's son.

"Evidently."

Indira recoiled at his agitated tone.

His intense stare was starting to make her uncomfortable. Madhur appeared to be able to peer into her own being. Indira strained her brain for another appropriate response. She didn't know how to make a man as savvy as him happy.

Indira prayed that there was nobody in the world with telepathy. From what she had heard, there were magi who could manipulate the elements, but no mind readers among them.

"Are you not going to say something?" he asked in a deadpan tone.

Although she was sitting on the bed with her hands on her knees and her body contorted into a crab position, Indira managed to shakily bow her head in greeting. She was trying to get away from him, but she couldn't quite get out of his reach.

Indira sucked on her lower lip. His eyes were growing black, yet he still managed to keep his cool and control his emotions.

Indira’s self-esteem as a wife plummeted within seconds of their reconnection. Could that have been classified as a******y? Having already married another man, she and Madhur's former lover were currently consummating their marriage in the very same bed.

Her new spouse had just been slain by Madhur in front of her eyes.

Indira looked down and saw that her clothing was dripping with blood. The rotting flesh and exposed organs made her feel sick to her stomach. The ground pounded the final time for Easton's heart.

The room fell silent. At last, she realised Madhur was silently waiting for her to say something.

Indira’s voice was as feeble as a newborn bird's first crow as she mumbled, "M-my lord..."

He repeated, his voice low with rage, "My lord?" The question, "Am I already a stranger to you?"

Indira’s fear was palpable. Her head jerked rapidly to the left and right. She almost fainted from the intensity of his stare. She was afraid she had succeeded to further disillusion him.

Indira’s voice squeaked like a mouse when she said, "No."

His repeated "No?" implied further disagreement.

Madhur's eyes were riveted on her. His presence permeated every corner of the room. There's no way to get away from him.

What do you mean, "You mean to tell me my wife willingly cheated on her husband?"

Indira cried out, "No!" her breath catching in her chest.

Madhur approached her, sword raised, and aimed it at her.

When Indira finally managed to get out, "What are you doing?" her throat was parched.

Indira looked down the blade at the tip, where her second husband's blood still clung.

Her dress was slashed in one rapid motion, exposing her midriff. It fell apart in an instant, exposing her bra and heaving breasts. Almost fainting, she said.

Madhur stared at her with his fiery eyes as he tore her clothes. For an instant, Indira noticed the distinctive golden hue of Alphas. He closed his eyes, and it was no longer there.

Murmuring, "silver earrings," Madhur described his accessory choice.

Indira’s stunning beauty was on full display for him to admire. His actions were ruthless, and his lips thinned as he looked at her pained expression.

"Oh, my lord..."

Indira felt dizzy from the strain of being exposed and cold.

Madhur's tone lowered and hardened as he said, "The divorce papers weren't even drafted and you're already calling me a stranger."

"No," Indira sputtered. After saying, "You're not... I-I mean..." her voice trailed off.

Madhur's long fingers wrapped around her ankle with ease as he seized her. He squirmed under her and pinned her to the bed. Her hair was a mess, but her sparkling, uncertain gaze was not hidden.

Indira’s body went into a deep freeze. She stared at the blade in his other hand in wonder. Incredulous, she looked up at him. Is he going to molest her in the same room where he slew her new husband?

Indira’s focus turned to the spacious shelter concealed in his pants. It remained, rigid and heavy in the brain. What he desired, she gave him without asking. And he would gladly take it from her.

Any rational man would go crazy after fighting for two years straight.

Indira’s nursemaid accompanied the newlyweds to their bedroom on their wedding night. He treated her like she was just another stone in the wall at the wedding. Indira’s nurse told her that night that she must obey her husband no matter what he does.

Indira was at a loss for words and said, "I-I, uhm."

Madhur asked sharply, "Have you already strayed from me?" She recalled his blazing gaze, like a lovely silver flame she longed to touch.

Indira coiled her hands protectively over her chest. She shook her head forcefully. Her entire nervous system was on high alert. She had trouble breathing.

Indira’s fear was getting the best of her, and she was starting to feel faint from suppressing it. Her heart rate increased. Observant, he noticed.

Madhur's eyes blazed as he stared at her, ready to extract the truth. He was amazing, his manly fragrance immediately masking hers.

Grunting "Indira ," he barked relentlessly in search of a response. Have you wandered off?

Indira’s mind was completely boggled. Everything she sensed was amplified. She was about to serve her husband, but instead she fainted on the bed.

Indira cried, "Y-y-you're s-still m-my h-husband..."

You stutteringly mumbled that whole thing.

When Indira batted her eyelids, the dam burst. Her eyes began to well up with tears.

Her pent-up anxiety finally burst through. This morning's devastating news of his passing, the afternoon's wedding she was made to sit through, the almost assault in the bedroom, and an alliance with Easton , who would treat her like a milk cow—all of these things added up to a nightmare.

Indira hiccuped and sobbed, really losing it.

Indira’s tears were so intense that she could not focus on what she was doing with her own hands.

She buried her face in her palms and could barely see.

Madhur probably despises her. Oh no, he actually planned to call her a w***e. Indira certainly wouldn't condemn him.

"Fuck."

He was already cussing less than five minutes into their first meeting.

Indira clearly heard his hand gauntlet fall to the floor with a rustling of leather. He casually flung it to the ground.

Indira felt a massive hand seize her shoulder suddenly. She froze in place like a tree trunk. He dragged her to a chair and kneeled in front of her. The warmth radiated down her spine.

Madhur massaged her all over, his big bulk radiating heat.

Madhur's touch was as primitive and insistent as the day he raged through her, as if he were reclaiming everything that was rightfully his. The man who should have fired her for a******y was instead consoling her.

Indira collapsed to the floor after being struck by Matriarch Lochan .

Madhur towered over the other imperial soldiers. Would Indira even make it through one of his blows?

You're crying in front of me and I didn't even expect a warm reception for our reunion.

Indira tried to speak, to express herself, but her throat was clogged with emotion. She was feeling smothered by him.

"Hush."

Indira stifled a sob. She coughed out a little bit of mucus. Then there was a second. It wasn't long before she was back to bawling. Her long-repressed feelings finally broke through.

Madhur's voice was soft and gentle as he said, "Did I bully you?"

Indira sputtered, "N-ngh...n-o..." "N-no…"

His unexpected iciness, which he had anticipated, prompted him to say, "Look at me then." But there was that moment when he doubted himself.

Indira felt the want to shake her head in a childlike manner. She had never, in all her years, thrown a temper tantrum. She discovered early on that the more she sobbed, the more she would get beaten and disciplined. How painful would her husband's strike be if she threw a tantrum in front of him?

To paraphrase: "I-I can't."

"Why?"

Her field of vision was immediately occupied by Madhur. His frame was huge and formidable. His tone was icier than a tombstone. He met her wet eyes directly. That woman was stunning.

"You flinch in my presence as if you'd rather the geezer on the floor," Madhur said.

Saying, "That's not what I meant..."

Even when they were both seated, Madhur towered over her. He had gotten off his knees. Instead, he crossed his muscular thighs in a crisscross pattern on the bed.

Madhur was staring at her carefully. When his wife started crying, he realised he didn't have a tissue to give her. He made a fist with his fingers. What he needs is one.

Indira , gasping for air, managed to stutter, "P-please... c-can we t-talk?"

Indira recognized the balled hands as a warning of an impending blow. She was praying it wasn't somewhere in the belly. If she was sterile, she was sure he would torment her.

Perhaps the legs were superior... no, the legs would be the greatest option. She could end up bedridden if things go south. That ought to work out perfectly, right?

Madhur extended his hand to her. She winced. He stopped moving. He took offence at once.

His voice was still menacing as he asked, "You think I'd dare to hit my wife?"

grinding his teeth, Madhur waited. He looked like he was on fire; his jaw was clinched so hard that it glinted like a knife. The straight line of his mouth made her forget about the dried tears on her cheeks.

Madhur said softly, "You think I would have the audacity to hit a woman when I'd cut off the hand of any of my men for doing it?"

Indira was completely at his whim. He may still consider her his possession. It was his girl. He was free to do whatever he wanted to her. Men could give their wives the cruellest of lectures and no one would bat an eye.

If you refuse to answer my inquiries, then at least do your job.

Indira blinked her eyes. What? Did she have any responsibilities? She c****d her head to look around the shelter. H-here? When she spotted Easton 's head sticking out from the foot of her bed,

she almost let out a scream. Like a twisted version of peek-a-boo played by children.

Indira went on a broom hunt. Also, a mop made from stretched cotton. Was it expected of her to fix what he broke? How about she clean up the blood?

If it's Easton so he can help you get away, he's dead.

I couldn't run away from my own husband, that was for sure!

Indira finally stopped her stuttering with males. Even less so did it appear to impress Madhur.

Strip off."