The Pakhan's Bride

The Pakhan's Bride

AH AMORA · Completed · 154.3k Words

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Introduction

She was trapped in the darkness. He ruled over it.
Zarya Rogov, born to be a sacrifice. Always kept in the dark, she learned to live along with it.
To the world, she was just another spoiled princess but only the walls of the Rogov's mansion knew the true tale of her unending sorrows. She thought escape would mean freedom.
She thought the world outside would save her, only to realize she loved the mansion walls that trapped her more than to be caught by the actual beast out there.
But it was too late, she was trapped again and his cage was cruler, colder and reeked of wrath.
Sergei Morozov, the Pakhan feared by all. The man who walked over those he crushed mercilessly.
His next target was her father, and to crush that old man, he captured his daughter, made her his wife, and decided to keep her as just a mere accessory in his mansion, just a mere caretaker for his son.
That was his plan, until he found himself unable to look away from her, he found himself craving her, loosening his tie in her vicinity just because she was just too hard to resist.
He hated the feeling because he promised himself that he would be the one to take her life and no one else, not even god.
But one thing he knew for sure, he craved her more than he craved to sin, and she was worse than a sin, she was addiction, and he was hooked.
WARNINGS: FORCED MARRIAGE. NON-CONSENSUAL RELATIONSHIP. POWER IMBALANCE. PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION. OBSESSIVE/POSSESSIVE MALE LEAD. GORE.

Chapter 1

  PROLOGUE

  "Was he that funny?" He took off his coat, throwing it on the couch so roughly that it had me flinching. I immediately stood up from the dressing chair and turned to look at him.

  A zap of shiver ran down my spine when I found him breathing heavily as if about to lose control. He ran a hand through his hair, messing the perfect slickness into rogue threads.

  "Huh?" That was all I could manage to utter as I stared at him, shocked.

  "You..." He slowly tilted his head to look at me. "You never even smile at me." His voice dangerously dropped, making me unconsciously take a step back.

  "We were j-just talking." I tried to rationalize.

  "Talking? Only talking? Or talking like you guys have known each other for years." He growled, striding up to me and banging the dressing table so aggressively that the thick oak tree-carved furniture rattled like it was made of chipboard.

  I flinched, unconsciously raising my arms in front of my face. His hot, ragged breath burned me as he towered over me. Tears of fear pricked my eyes, and I trembled. Just as I tried to move away, he firmly grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me back in front of him.

  "I'm asking you something." He rasped and grabbed my jaw, forcing my face up so that I could look at him. He was looming over me like death. The second I matched his gaze, I felt myself melting away in sheer fear.

  He would consume me.

  "Was. He. That. Funny?" He asked dangerously slowly, and I immediately shook my head, my eyes filled with unshed tears.

  "Then why were you laughing?" He growled like an animal, intensifying my trembling. I couldn't even form proper words. He was executing wrath so powerful, I felt like I was burning in hell.

  "I-I just uh w-we had common in-interest, that's w-why...maybe." I didn't know what I was blurting out, my teary eyes too focused on his gaze, too far gone in hell to look away.

  "I guess the shared interests were so funny." His rugged tone held sarcasm. He shook my head, pulling me closer to himself through his grip on my jaw.

  "W-What's so wrong w-with it?" I asked, wanting to know why he was so triggered when all I did was laugh with a man, that too who was known to be a lot more human in society than him and I knew I just dug my grave by asking that.

  "You are not allowed to talk to any man like that." His tone was threatening, leaving no room for argument.

  "W-Why not?"

  "Because you are my wife, Pakhan's bride, and you will learn to respect that place." His voice held possessiveness.

  "This m-marriage was forced, yo-you sinner." His grip painfully tightened on my jaw, making me whimper.

  "Call me a sinner all you want, but don't forget, I would sin a thousand times more if that means keeping you mine."

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