Chapter 1
If “being tired, broke, and doing stuff for free” had a name, it was “internship.”
I stared at the tenth fabric sample I’d labeled today – super boring beige, beige, and more beige – and wondered if it was too late to just run off and live in the woods like a witch. Sounds way better than this.
“Ugh, this internship is literally killing me,” I mumbled under my breath.
No pay. No AC. No thanks. Just tons of coffee, people acting like they’re better than me, and backaches from bending over design boards for hours. I mean, yeah,Iwas the one who fought super hard to get a spot at this famous design company. I pictured it. Dreamed about it. Practically cried when I got in.
And now?
“Wow, Tara,” I told myself, “you really wished for free work and a messed-up back. So cool.”
I didn’t even get to eat lunch today. Just five urgent tasks, three coffee orders, and my soul slowly floating out of my body.
The second I got home, I dropped everything.
Shoes, bag, dignity – all on the floor. I heated up the last of yesterday’spulaoin the microwave, ate it super fast like I hadn’t eaten in a week, took a lightning-quick shower, and then jumped into bed like I was trying out for a mattress ad.
And then... I grabbedthe book.
Yeah.Thatbook.
My best friend, Rhea, gave it to me last week with a sneaky smile.
“You have to read this,” she said. “It’s a dark romance. Like, really dark. You’re going to hate it. And love it. Probably both.”
She was right.
The cover alone looked bad – a sword, a crown, a moon on fire.
The title?Burn Me, My King.
Gross. Cringey. And impossible to put down.
“I’m a strong woman,” I reminded myself as I opened to Chapter Fourteen. “And this man needs a therapist, not a kingdom.”
Vikram Pratap Singh, the main guy, was a mean, rough tyrant. The kind who grumbled instead of talked. Who stared too long and said things like: “Your tears make you look divine.”
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to throw the book at the wall.
Instead, I kept reading.
AndDevika– oh, don’t even get me started. Sweet, innocent, quiet. The “he’s not mean, he’s just misunderstood” type. The kind of girl who’d trip over her scarf, say sorry to the floor, and then fall in love with the guy who kidnapped her.
“God, this girl doesn’t know the difference between love and being obsessed,” I mumbled. “Someone get her a therapist and some pepper spray.”
Every time Vikram slammed her against a wall, I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. Every time he whispered something awful like “You’re mine to ruin,“...I turned the page a little faster.
Look. Dark romance is my secret shame, okay?
I hate it. But also, I hate how much Idon’thate it. It’s a never-ending loop.
“Seriously,” I said to no one, yawning. “What can I even say?”
I curled up tighter into my blanket. The book was open. The world was fading away.
Somewhere between a sword fight and a steamy scene, my eyelids got heavy.
The words started changing into something else.
Not Vikram.
Not Devika.
Something older. Sharper. Wrong.
A voice. A scream.
A name I’d never heard before:Samyukta.
Then:
Flames.
And darkness.
That’s all I remember.
The next thing I knew –
I wasn’t in my room anymore.
And this?
This wasn’t just a book.
Author’s Note:
Hey everyone!
Welcome to my wild story where old Indian times meet modern-day sarcasm! This book is like a secret note (and sometimes a loud complaint) to all of us who secretly love reading about bad boy characters while still believing in strong women. If you’ve ever yelled at a book, wondered about your life choices at 3 AM, or thought if ancient India had therapists, then you’re in the right place.
Get ready for unexpected twists, weird choices, and a main character who’s about to get a huge shock. Don’t worry, there will be lots of eye-rolls, inner thoughts, and probably some real history getting mixed up in a funny way.
Happy reading, and try not to judge Tara too much. She’s doing her best. Mostly.
With a smile and a wish,
Lettersnsilk
