Chapter 119: You Tempt Me

Realizing her face had gone pale, he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Oh, my

Zaad, did you get scared?" He tried to act oblivious to her plight.

She just moved her eyes down, on the verge of a panic attack. On and on, the flashbacks

came to her mind.

A whimper escaped her lips when he suddenly held her chin and bobbed her head up. A

painful knot formed in her throat, stretching the walls of her throat.

"Uh... no... I... please," she couldn't form a coherent sentence. Fear had overwhelmed her.

She tried to scoot away from him when he snaked his arm around the small of her back and

kept her close to him. His brows twitched up and down in quick succession as, with deep,

dark eyes, he looked at her.

"You tempt me, Sheharzaad," he whispered.

He closed his eyes, cleared her neck of her hair by tucking it away, and inhaled her scent.

His lips pressed against her slender neck, making goosebumps arise on her whole body. In

the silent car, only her deep breaths could be heard—deep breaths full of nervousness.

"Tempt me to give in to my darkest desires, to embrace the darkness within and let it

consume me," he murmured against her skin, "while I consume you, Zaad."

She didn't realize when a lone tear escaped her eyes.

She looked down. "I don't... don't want... want this. Please. Please," she intertwined the

fingers of both her hands together.

"What is it that you don't want, Sheharzaad?" he merely asked, and Sheharzaad zipped up

her lips. She couldn't let the words run from her mouth.

"I... don't want... don't want this."

"This. What?"

"This... whatever you're saying... wedding... night... alone with... with you... under... under y-

you," she stuttered with great difficulty.

"Then what is it that you want?" He grasped her chin, his thumb playing with it.

"Running away? Renting an apartment and moving there?" Sheharzaad's eyes widened. Her

heart skipped multiple beats. She forgot to breathe. Fear was crippling her nerves, chilling

her to the bone marrow.

She felt his hold on her chin tighten.

"Don't mess with me, Sheharzaad," his voice suddenly dropped notches down as his thumb

pressed tightly against her chin. Her chin had turned red from the force he applied. She

whimpered in pain.

"S-s-sorry," she whispered with difficulty. And that's when he let her chin go. The mark of

his thumb was imprinted on her face.

A sob escaped from her throat. She slightly sniffled while rubbing the damaged area. She

was getting scared now. Scared of running those words through her tongue. Because it felt

like those words did not please him at all. And she was afraid to displease him. He could use

it to his advantage.

He patted his lap and indicated for her to sit on him. Her teary eyes looked at his legs and

then at him. She slowly moved and sat on his lap before turning her face toward him.

"Now," he said, "if you don't want me to make you cut your tongue into numerous pieces,

then don't run those words on your tongue again. Got me?" he asked, raising his brows. She

stared directly into his eyes, fear evident in her grey orbs, and passed him a nod.

"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper.

"Because a lot is already on your plate that needs to be addressed." Sheharzaad understood

the underlying meaning behind his words. Tears accumulated in her eyes again.

"I am sorry. I am sorry," she whispered. "Forgive me." She really wanted his forgiveness.

"We'll see, Sheharzaad, how much of my forgiveness you earn," he said. A moment of silence

elapsed between the two.

"Kiss me," he ordered.

Sheharzaad passed him a surprised look.

"Me?"

"Who else is there?"

She placed her hands on his shoulders, nearing him. She placed her lips on his and began to

kiss him. Tears flooded her eyes because he didn't respond to her touch. She felt like a slut

who was hired to please him. She kept on kissing him, but he didn't move. Yet she didn't

move away from him since he did not permit her.

She felt humiliated.

He slightly detached from her and said, "That's enough." Sheharzaad cleaned her tears. He

moved closer to her and placed his lips on her soft spot—her neck. She felt his stubble

tingling her.

After a few moments, he pulled back and inhaled a whistling breath before knocking on his

window. The driver immediately entered the car, brought the engine to life, and began the

journey.

A journey whose destination she thought would be the warmth of her home.

Yet how wrong she was.

Deep in her thoughts, she didn't recall when she dozed off with her head resting against his

shoulder.

The car stopped, she was awakened, and her house came into view. She quickly proceeded

to alight the vehicle. He let her, eyeing her. And she was already scurrying to her house,

thanking her stars he didn't follow behind.

When she came across her home, the door was already open, and her heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes widened. She stepped inside carefully. The house was dark. No lights were turned

on. She called out for Amna, and no response was received.

Her heart began to race when she turned on the lights, and the scene that unfolded in front

of her snatched the floor from beneath her feet.

Her eyes landed on the feet dangling in the air as her gaze trailed all the way up to the face

of the person.

It was Khaleda.

She was dead.

Eyes open.

Staring at her. As if accusing her of her death.

Her dead body was hung up from the ceiling. Feet hanging lifelessly in the air. Nails blue.

Skin pale.

The body had stiffened, suffering from rigor mortis.

She was too struck to move when somebody's presence behind her froze her, as two arms

came and wrapped around her body.

"Zaad. My beautiful Zaad," a dark whisper was heard near her ear.

"Shehryaar," she whispered.

Her head was already feeling light.