Vikram hovered over Aria like a predator claiming its prey, his powerful body caging her against the massive bed. His dark, lust-filled eyes burned into hers with raw, unfiltered hunger—possessive, dangerous, and laced with something deeper, almost obsessive adoration. The air between them crackled with tension as his gaze raked over her barely clothed form, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the way her thighs pressed together in instinctive resistance.

Aria’s anger flared hot and fierce. “Get off me, you bastard!” she snarled, shoving hard against his broad chest with all her warrior strength. Her palms met unyielding muscle, warm and solid as carved stone. She pushed again, muscles straining, heart hammering—but there was no effect. Not even a slight shift. Vikram didn’t budge an inch. A low, amused chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest, vibrating against her hands.