บททั้งหมดของ Bride For The Blind Don: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

~~Amber~~ "What are you doing to me?" I asked, my voice low as I felt his hand trail across my chest. "What does it look like?" he said, rough, almost like a growl against my ear. That’s when my eyes snapped open—wide, confused, and burning. I jolted but felt my back slam harder against his chest. We were in the bathtub. Together. Hot water steamed around us, stinging my skin like punishment. A napkin was clutched in his hand—he was scrubbing me. Not gently. Not kindly. Like he was trying to erase something. "I want to go back outside," I croaked, shifting, my body struggling to sit. “I want to continue my punishment.” His arm tightened around me before I could rise. “You’re so damn stubborn,” he hissed. “That’s why you deserve every punishment I give you.” My breath caught. My fingers curled over the side of the tub. "Then why am I here?” I turned my face halfway toward him. “If you think I deserved that… why the hell am I here?” He was quiet for a beat.

~~Amber~~ I didn’t know who she was, but the moment her eyes landed on me—half naked, in Zeden’s bed—her whole face twisted with rage. Was she his lover? Another one of his sluts? My head spun with questions I didn’t have the courage to ask. I reached over to the other side of the bed, grabbing one of Zeden’s shirts to slip on. Her voice sliced through the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Wearing his shirt? Who gave you that right?” Before I could even answer, she was striding toward me. Her hand shot out, yanking the sheets from my body. The shirt slipped from my grip. I froze. Naked. Completely exposed. Shame burned through me, but anger pressed harder against my chest. I wanted to curse her out, shove her away—but fear kept my mouth shut. I didn’t know if she mattered to Zeden. If she did, and I fought back, I’d be punished. I couldn’t take another punishment. Not now. “I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Please… can I just put something on

~~Amber~~ "Why won’t you do what she asked you?" His voice was rough, deep enough to make the air feel heavy. I looked at him, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. His grip on my arm was like a vice, crushing bone. My legs wobbled. I had no idea what to say, but I knew I had to say something. Zeden doesn’t tolerate silence. "Answer me. Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, voice dropping into that dangerous calm that always came before something worse. "I... I couldn’t. I can’t. I’d get hurt if I do that. She’s been—mean to me since this morning. And I... I haven’t even—" "Enough." His interruption was sharp enough to cut. Out of the corner of my eye, Misha stood like she owned the place, watching, her lips curling into a slow, satisfied smirk. "Who cares if you’ve done nothing wrong?" Zeden said, his tone colder now. "You were told to do something, not complain. I don’t care if you have to use your teeth... or your damn toenails. I don’t care how you do it. You w

Amber. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a life at all. Because I never truly had one to begin with. Not with my father. Not with my sister. My father treated me in ways a father should never treat his daughter—ways I still couldn’t name without my chest locking tight. And Skyla, my younger sister, never saw me as the eldest. To her, I was just a space that needed erasing. A mistake that should be replaced with something better. Something cleaner. And now here I was—Zeden’s prisoner. Or maid. Or whatever name fit his mood. But never a slut. Never that. Even if the word brushed my lips in anger or despair, I refused to wear it. Before all of this, I had a life. A real one. Dreams. A future. And my father had cut it off with his own hands and sold what remained. My mother’s face flashed through my mind—pale, still, unmoving. God… how had I lived here for weeks without breaking apart over her? She was still in a coma. The last time my father was supposed to go to

Amber.Every inch of me sparked alive at the shift—his breath feathering over my skin, warm and teasing, stirring hairs I didn’t even know could feel so sensitive. His lips hovered there, not quite touching, but close enough to send electric pulses racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly. The pillar dug cold into my front, a stark contrast to the heat of him pressing behind, his frame solid, unyielding, trapping me in this haze of dread and unwanted fire.My pulse thundered wild, betraying me, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat I couldn’t silence. His fingers on my wrist loosened just a fraction, but only to slide up my arm, tracing a slow path that left gooseflesh in its wake. I hated how my body leaned into it, how my hips shifted back instinctively, brushing against the hard line of him. “Why won’t you tell me?” I whispered, my defiance cracking under the weight of his nearness. His mouth grazed the curve of my throat now, a ghost of contact that made my knees weaken, f