Married To The Dominant King

NORA “I can’t wait to see you full and round with my child.” His fingers grazed my cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down my spine. Emir’s lips trailed along my neck, pausing at the hollow of my collarbone, igniting every nerve beneath my skin. We stood together on a high mountain ridge, mere feet from the edge of a cliff. Lovers’ Spot. Our spot. A hidden paradise shrouded in wildflowers and sunlight. It had always felt like a dreamscape tucked away from the world, a sacred place where time bent to our love. “My child?” I murmured, breathless from his touch. “You mean… our child.” He laughed, the sound rich and masculine, vibrating against my skin. His gaze dropped to my belly before returning to my eyes, dark and glittering with emotion. “Yes,” he said. “Ours. A piece of you and me. A symbol of our love.” I reached for him, fingers knotting in his shirt as I gazed at the man who had claimed every piece of me, body, mind, and soul. “I love you, Emir. Please… make love to me. Now.” He bent, his forehead pressed to mine. The press of his lips followed a trail, nose, cheek, lips. “I love you, Maran. Making love to you… it’s the reason I breathe.” His hands roamed over me as he kissed me again, harder this time. Possessive. Desperate. One hand found my breast, his thumb teasing the hardened peak through the fabric. He broke the kiss and stared into me like he could see beyond flesh, beyond bone. “You, my queen,” he growled, “belong to me. You are mine. Only mine.” The next kiss was a storm-fierce, searing. His body pressed me against the railing of the bridge, the sharp air of the mountaintop surrounding us. It was euphoric. Consuming. Until it wasn’t. Something shifted. A sudden jolt, like a push, or maybe the ground just gave way beneath my feet. I gasped, slipping toward the edge. My hand flew out instinctively, grabbing the rusted iron railing. My feet scrambled for footing, but the gravel slid under me like quicksand. “Emir!” I screamed, heart slamming against my ribs. No response. I twisted around in panic, the wind howling past my ears. He was gone. Gone. One second he was kissing me like I was his oxygen, the next—nothing. No silhouette. No sound. Just an echo where his name should be. My stomach twisted. He wouldn’t leave me. Would he? My grip faltered for a moment, then I clutched harder. My nails dug into the bark of a tree branch I’d somehow caught beneath the ledge. The wind gusted again, and I made the mistake of looking down. No. No. No. My breath snagged in my throat. The valley stretched endlessly beneath me. Rocks and jagged terrain, nothing I could survive. I was terrified of heights. Emir knew that. He knew. “Emir!” I cried again, desperate. “Please! Help me! I’m slipping!” Tears blurred my vision, stinging my cheeks. My arms shook with the effort to hold on. Every second felt like hours. Then— Crack. Pain shot through my skull. I screamed as something—no, someone struck me from above. A shadow loomed, holding what looked like a metal rod. Blood poured down my forehead, blinding me. I blinked furiously, trying to see the face. Who are you? But the world tilted. My hands gave out. And I fell. Fell. Fell… I woke up screaming. Sweat drenched my sheets. My chest heaved, my fingers gripping the blanket like a lifeline. My room was dark, the silence oppressive. It was a dream. Again. I pressed trembling fingers to my lips. The phantom of Emir’s kiss still lingered. I didn’t know an Emir in real life, never had. Yet, every time, it was him. Same name. Same face. Same intensity. And always… the fall. I dragged myself out of bed, grabbing my iPhone. The screen glared to life, blinding me. My heart jumped when I saw the time. 6:45 a.m. Shit. I have a flight in two hours! Panic spiked. I’d forgotten to reset my alarm after staying up too late packing. My flight to Turkey was at 9 a.m. sharp. I hadn’t even showered yet. I raced to the bathroom, did the fastest rinse of my life, and skipped washing my hair. Dry shampoo and perfume would have to do. Back in my room, I yanked on a striped cami top and wide-leg pants, slipping into white heels and grabbing my beige trench coat on the way out. In the kitchen, I came to a halt. Mom stood at the counter, clutching a glass of water like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. Her skin was pale, her lips slightly parted, her gaze distant. “Mum?” I asked gently. “Are you okay?” She didn’t answer. Her silence gnawed at me. I moved closer and reached for her hand, brushing my fingers across her cheek the way I used to when I was little. “It’s about me going to Turkey, isn’t it?” I whispered. Still nothing. Her eyes were wide, haunted. “Mom, come on,” I said, more seriously. “It’s just a trip. I’m visiting Dad and Grandma. You knew this was coming.” Her lips trembled. I let go of her cheek and took both her hands in mine. They were ice cold. “Jesus, Mom,” I muttered. “You’re scaring me.” She shook her head sharply. “Don’t mind me,” she said, voice hoarse. “It’s nothing.” “Don’t do that,” I begged. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me what’s going on.” “You won’t understand.” “Try me.” I wasn’t letting this go. I couldn’t—not when her fear was contagious. Not when her hands were trembling in mine. “You don’t want me going on this trip and you’re not telling me why.” Her shoulders sagged as if carrying the weight of a truth she couldn’t release. “I just…” Her voice broke. “I just want you safe, Nora. And Turkey—it’s not safe for you.” I frowned, thrown. “What do you mean it’s not safe?” She gripped my hands tighter. “Please don’t go. Not there. Anywhere but there.” My heart thudded louder. “You’re really starting to scare me.” “There are things… things you don’t know. Your father and I—we kept secrets to protect you.” My mouth went dry. “What secrets?” She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her jaw tightened, and she looked away. “Mom.” I turned her face back to mine. “Tell me. Please.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she shook her head. “Just promise me you’ll stay. That you won’t board that plane.” I pulled away, slowly. “I can’t do that. I need to see him. I need to see where I come from.” “Nora—” “I’ve spent my whole life here, living your version of the story. Dad never pressured me to visit, even though I know he missed me. He respected your space. But he deserves mine, too.” My mother looked like she might collapse. I felt guilt gnaw at the edge of my resolve, but I hardened it. I was nineteen, no longer a child caught between two worlds. “I’m not abandoning you, Mom. I’m just… finding myself.” She blinked back the tears, then nodded once, slowly. “Just… be careful,” she whispered. “You don’t know what’s waiting there.” I gave her a long look. “Neither do you.” Or maybe… she did.