Married To The Villain
Chapter 39: The Master’s Hunger

Chapter 39: The Master’s Hunger

Chapter 39: The Master’s Hunger

It seemed like a day had passed, but Lirian was still chained to the wall.

She sat slumped against the cold stone pillar, her arms ached from the weight of the enchanted chains.

Her body showed everything...Lirian was trembling, and painfully aware of the vulnerability of her situation.

The masked man returned, entering the chamber like a shadow stretching across her soul.

He carried a silver tray with food: fresh bread, slices of roasted meat, a small bowl of soup.

The rich aroma made her stomach growl.

"Still stubborn, I see," he said smoothly, placing the tray on a small table nearby.

Lirian’s lips tightened, her glare sliced through the dark light. "Go to hell."

The man chuckled softly again, removing his gloves and setting them aside.

"We all have our roles to play, Lirian. Mine is to shape you. Yours, whether you like it or not, is to endure."

He knelt before her...

’Why? Why me?’

With slowness, he tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it into the soup.

"You need to eat," he murmured, holding the soaked bread close to her lips.

Lirian turned her head away, clenching her jaw. "I don’t need anything from you."

"Ah, but you do," he replied in a strangely calm tone.

He grasped her chin with one hand, forcing her to face him.

His grip was strict but not painful, though the implied power in his touch made her skin crawl.

"You can’t resist me forever," he whispered, so intimate. "Even your defiance will falter with time."

He pressed the bread to her lips, his other hand cupped her jaw. "Eat," he commanded.

Eventually, Lirian opened her mouth, her stomach growled again.

The bread was warm and savory, but she didn’t care.

She chewed mechanically, still staring at him, daring him to look away first.

"Good girl," he murmured, his fingers touched her lips as he withdrew them.

The next bite was a piece of roasted meat, which he brought to her mouth with the same unnerving care.

This time, a piece slipped from her lips, sliding down her chin.

The man’s eyes followed its path, staring at her lips, then lower.

Slowly, he reached out with his fingers, wiping the morsel away.

His touch was warm against her cool skin, and the way his hand hesitated felt far too intimate.

"Sloppy," he teased in a soft rumble. "You’ll have to do better."

Lirian swallowed hard, the food sticking in her throat. "Just give me the damn plate and let me feed myself."

He laughed, "Where’s the fun in that? I like seeing you like this. Helpless. Dependent."

"You’re disgusting," she spat, but still sharply despite her weakened state.

"Perhaps," he replied, unbothered. "But power comes with certain indulgences. And you, my dear, are quite the indulgence."

His hand drifted lower, brushing against her neck as he reached for another piece of food.

Her pulse quickened, and she hated herself for it.

He noticed. Of course he did.

"Your body betrays you," he muttered. "No matter what your lips say, your heart speaks another language."

"Shut up," she snapped, trembling.

He smirked beneath the mask, holding up another morsel of food. "Eat."

This time, she refused, clamping her mouth shut.

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, his breath felt so warm against her cheek.

"Don’t make this harder than it has to be," he warned as if he was running out of patience with her.

When she still didn’t comply, he moved the food away and leaned in, his gloved hand trailed down her jawline to her collarbone.

The gesture was almost tender, but the hunger in his eyes made it clear there was nothing kind about it.

"You’re so... exquisite," he murmured, dropping his eyes to her chest.

Lirian’s breath paused, and she instinctively pulled back, though the chains kept her bound.

"Don’t touch me," she growled, still shaking from anger and fear.

He tilted his head, as though amused by her resistance.

"You don’t realise how rare you are, do you? Such beauty. Such power. It’s intoxicating."

"Get away from me," she hissed, yanking at the chains.

The runes flared, sending another jolt of energy through her body, but she barely felt it over the rising panic in her chest.

The man didn’t retreat.

Instead, he reached for the neckline of her tunic, his fingers seemed ghosting over the fabric.

"So fragile," he murmured, almost to himself. "And yet, so dangerous."

"Don’t," she warned and her voice started to break.

He paused, his hand hovering just above her chest.

"Fear suits you," he said softly. "But it’s unnecessary. I won’t hurt you. Not yet."

He pulled back, as though reining himself in.

He stood, smoothing his gloves and adjusting his cloak as if nothing had happened.

"You’ll learn to trust me," he stated, and composed himself once more. "In time.

"I’ll never trust you," Lirian spat, glaring up at him with every ounce of hate she could muster.

He smiled faintly beneath the mask. "We’ll see."

"There’s nothing to see...you kidnapped me, so let me go!" She said through gritted teeth.

"I can’t," the man smiled once again. "And to be honest, I don’t want to." He shrugged.

"When Gabriel finds out what you did, he will-"

"Die...yes."

"You won’t be able to kill my husband," Lirian lifted the corner of her lip. "He’s way stronger than you are."

"We will see."

He turned and began to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Rest well, Lirian. Tomorrow, we’ll begin your training in earnest. You’ll come to understand the depth of your power—and what it means to truly belong to me."

With that, he disappeared and left Lirian alone in the oppressive silence of the chamber.

Her body trembled—not from the cold, but from the sensation of his touch and the terrifying promise in his words.

One thing was clear: she had to find a way to escape, before the chains around her wrists became the least of her worries.