Master of the Sun

[LimeGrass]

I was inspired by sarN's fanfic 'My Enemy' so I decided to write my own story.

Master of the Sun​

Genre: Romance/Revenge/Drama
Rating: M (for mature)

Characters:
Aum Atichart Chumanont – Noppadon Nirapai (30)
Aff Taksaorn Paksucharoen – Narisara Kantawong (22)

Maprang Prateung (?)
Tai Nirapai (5)
Savitree Chamroon (25)
Warote Benjawan (23)
Anan Veerapol (25)
Waan Prinya (22)

Kantawong Family
Wattana Kantawong – 1st Young Master (45)
Thanarat Kantawong – 2nd Young Master (43)
Somawadee Kantawong – 1st Young Master's wife (41)
Korawit Kantawong – 3rd Young Master (40)

INDEX
- prologue -
- chapter 1 -
- chapter 2 -
​

PROLOGUE​

On the first night of autumn, the moon was full and bright. Soft music filled the crisp warm air as the candle lights flickered from left to right like a curvaceous woman in a seductive dance. For the first time that evening, the young bride met her groom's intense gaze without shying away. Her face was flushed red: she was simply tempting to any sane man.

All the guests had left; family members also parted ways. In this bridal house, there was only him and her—and a handful of servants who were probably asleep.

This was their wedding night and nothing could possibly ruin it. Yet why was there such a sad and regretful look lingering in is eyes? Did he not want to marry her? The thought made her heart numb.

She bit her lips and waited for her groom to speak. Her eyes swept over his face, almost beseeching him to prove her thoughts wrong.

A shuddering breath escaped his lips as he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, locking her tight in his embrace. "Please forgive me," he whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.

"I don't understand; you've done nothing wrong." Curiosity and worry simultaneously caught her in their grip.

Something was terribly wrong. Fear and guilt was etched onto his face so clearly it made her tremble. The lines on his mouth were grim. It was an omen—all evening she noticed that he became more somber as their wedding night neared.

He pulled away and stared at her intensely as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. His eyes softened as his fingers light traced her brows—she was a natural beauty: large almond shape eyes with the colour of deep honey, rosy pink lips that begged to be kissed and a high noble nose.

Unable to help himself, he leaned in, wanting to assert his rights as her husband. Unfortunately, fate was against him.

Knocking resounded at the door and almost immediately, his face became deathly white. The two stood there as the knocking became louder—whoever it was was becoming impatient. He stiffly rushed over and opened the door to allow entry.

There on the other side was the First Young Master, looking suave and smiling with anticipation.

"Big…Big Brother, you're here early," he stuttered in a weak voice.

First Young Master raised a brow and sauntered into the room as if he owned the place. "These things can't wait," he answered in an obvious tone. His gaze turned towards the bride and winked at her lewdly. "You may leave now."

"What's going on?" she exclaimed, turning to her groom for an explanation. She was utterly confused.

The First Young Master took off his tie and sat comfortably on the bed, a bored look on his face as he glared at the groom—silently asking why he was still standing there like an idiot.

"You didn't tell her?" questioned First Young Master. He then turned towards the bride and reached out a hand to grab her wrist and pull her into his arms. "I told you once that you'll be mine. No one dares defy me, not even my little brother," he laughed triumphantly.

Her eyes widened with fear as tears slowly streamed down her cheeks. "It's not true. You're lying. Third Young Master, we are married; I am your wife!"

"Wrong, you're my wife." He pushed her against the bed and glared at his brother, warning him to leave at once.

She quickly moved off the bed, trying to rush to her husband. "No! No, come back! Third Young Master, don't leave!"

"Don't waste your breath on him. I'd rather hear my name coming from your lips," he held her in an iron grip while trying to hold the door.

"Third Young Master, help me! Please! Help me!"

Third Young Master turned his head away in shame; he had no courage to answer her frantic pleas. As soon as he stepped out of the room, the door was shut in his face and the lock clicked into place. The last thing he saw before the door shut was the tear stained face of his bride; her eyes were filled with fear, disappointment and abandonment. And at that moment, he felt his heart drop.

"I'm sorry," he choked as tears ran down his face like a raging stream. "I'm sorry…"

Inside the room, the young bride was pleading the First Young Master to let her go. He was married and she was married. It was wrong of him to lust after her; even more wrong was that she's his sister-in-law.

He smiled, showing off his pearly whites as his fingers unbuttoned his shirt, one by one; and taking leisure steps towards her, step by step. He was the hunter, and she was the prey. There was no way she could escape him, she was trapped.

With a feral grin, he pounced on the poor woman like a vicious tiger attacking a young rabbit. His longer fingers gripped onto her arms and pinned them onto the mattress; his large body hovered above her, almost threatening to crush her. She whimpered woefully, her hands and feet lashing out to throw him off but his strength was too much for her to handle.

"I beg you! Stop!" she screamed.

In one fell swoop, his hungry lips seized hers in an unbidden kiss, successfully devouring her like a starving animal. Nipping, biting and sucking until her lips were bruised and swollen. Her chest heaved heavily as she gasped for air, unintentionally drawing his eyes to her voluptuous breasts.

She cried painfully as his rough hands tore away at her bridal dress. Piece by piece, it was thrown into the air as he ravaged her innocent little body.

"Please, let me go! Please!"

SLAP!

He watched as an angry hand print appeared on her cheek, satisfied how it looked on her beautiful face.

"Third Young Master, help me!" she hollered painfully, wishing and hoping that he would come and save her from this insane brother of his.

"Why are you screaming for him? Didn't I tell you I want to hear my name?" he hissed and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head to look at him.

"Please, let me go…"

He scoffed, "Not until I hear you desperately call out my name."

Excitement pumped through his blood, he had never been aroused to such degree before. What was it about her that made him so barbaric? Stripping out of his clothes, he watched in fascination as her eyes widened with fear. Grabbing onto her tiny waist, he plunged into her very core, eliciting a loud cry of pain from her lips.

Hours rolled by and First Young Master left the room completely dressed. He met his brother at the door and sneered before walking off, "Look after her for me, but don't touch her. She's mine."

Third Young Master reeled in his anger and carefully stepped into the room. It was a mess. And there she was, sitting up in bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. His heart sank as he shakily walked towards the bed. The sheets were a mess and when he saw the shredded clothing, he nearly collapsed.

She looked up at him, the river of tears she had cried were now dried, leaving a distinct residue on her face. Angry finger prints marred her body. He wanted nothing more but to hold her in his arms and comfort her. Yet he knew that it would be useless

Her clear eyes were like a dark void that sucked in everything until nothing was left. She was completely empty; completely broken.

"Are you happy?" she whispered in a cold, lifeless voice.

He fell onto his knees, head bowed as if asking for forgiveness, yet he said nothing. An apology was meaningless. And as he watched her lifeless form, he felt himself dying little by little.

_______________________________________________________________________

*Phew* Hope I didn't overdo it with the 'r' scene. :blush:
Was this too short? Too long?
Anyways, for the other characters, you can imagine them as anyone, it doesn't matter.

 

[swirlblue]

That was so intense. Poor her . Btw, I love your poster and I'm waiting to read more.

 

[anavang]

Uhmm interesting. This one
caught my attention. I'm gonna keep
up with this one for sure

 

[Napat01]

That was awesome! I want to read more.

 

[aikoden]

that's an awesome poster!!!
im so bad.. i havent even finished my enemy yet.. shoot i 4got where i'm at once again lol...

oooo i cant wait!!!!

 

[dreams_x]

omg, plz continue... it was getting good.... i feel so sorry for her already..... on her
wedding nite

 

[anavang]

When will you update again?
I'm eager to read this story!

 

[tastesweetlove]

please update more. i need to know what happens...are the characters aum and aff?? or was it the generation before them? i feel so bad for her, i can't believe the third young master didn't even do anything....so sad.

 

[LimeGrass]

I've finally figured out the storyline so here's the first chapter.

CHAPTER 1:
The world may not be a friend, but it did not have to be an enemy.

Yet for one woman, the world was as good as dead.

Just as she was on top of the world, taking in the beauty of being alive and blissfully in love, the ground beneath her cracked and pulled her down under. If only it were just that and nothing more. In fact she preferred to be buried beneath the ground. At least there was hope for escape; that she would eventually be able to emerge from the darkness.

Instead, she was trapped by iron-like fingers, strong and immovable like mountains with sharp nails coated in poison, waiting to pierce her skin for her abrasive defiance. With nowhere to turn to, she could only remain in the center of the palm, cold and rough as the arctic tundra. A person’s palm wasn’t very large, so she could never go far. As soon as she tried to run, the fingers would quickly close in to suffocate her.

How could such a tiny person escape such a terrifying hand?

Not even the Monkey King could escape from the Buddha’s palm.

Narisara Kantawong was only that small. That iron hand was even more frightening.

“What’s the matter dear? You’ve been staring at my hand all night.”

Narisara looked up from her glass of champagne, meeting the bright eyes of her mother—they were as dangerous as a fox.

“I was just admiring that pretty ring you’re wearing,” lied Narisara, her voice was too polite, too sweet to be genuine.

Somawadee chose to ignore her daughter’s tone and instead feigned a delighted look, raising her right hand so that the large ruby on her finger glistened under the candlelight. The ruby was a deep red, red as blood; it contrasted beautifully against her pale white hands. She then glanced at the man beside her and said, “It’s a gift from my lover. Isn’t he sweet?”

The man grunted, a scowl playing on his lips. Despite his age, he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome and carried an air of confidence. From the way his eyes twinkled, one could tell he was a professional womanizer. How this man eventually married Somawadee was a mystery in itself. “Be careful, nowadays it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s fake,” he said and sipped his wine as if he had no care for the world.

“Khun Watt!” hissed Somawadee, almost losing her composure. Reigning in her anger, she smiled maliciously, returning his biting words. “True. Khun Wattana, when you go out to eat please consider the location. Nowadays, it’s hard to tell what’s man and what’s woman.”

“Somawadee, watch your tongue,” threatened Wattana. The only time he would say her full name was when he was utterly vexed and losing patience.

Narisara inwardly sighed and wished she was anywhere but there. Once a month, her family of three would go out dining at a fine restaurant for appearance sake. In this world of High Society, no matter what went on in the house, they must appear like a loving family in the eyes of outsiders. The Kantawong family was well respected and highly affluent; there was no one that did not know the significance of this family. Even the surname Kantawong was a brand in itself.

Even if there was a never ending cold war in the house, they must act warm and lovey-dovey. This stupid charade sickened Narisara, at times she wanted to break out of her role as a happy obedient daughter.

When dessert came along, the atmosphere was relatively peaceful. That was until Wattana decided to bring up the issue of Narisara’s love life.

“Ris, dear, how are you and Warote coming along?”

Just hearing that name, made Narisara want to vomit the contents of her dinner. Her hand which held the fork trembled before stabbing her slice of tiramisu. “He and I are through.”

Although she said that with such aloofness, any woman could tell there were still lingering feelings. Her father obviously could not tell. As soon as those words left her mouth, he laughed loudly and joyfully, unaware of the pain in his daughter’s heart.

“Good! Good! I never did like that boy. You’ll be happier off without him,” said Wattana. He then glanced at his wife, on her face was a lovely smile, so cunning yet so alluring. Her lips were stained with the dark chocolate on her fork and he felt himself grow hot. “You do not seem very surprised,” he noted as she shrugged her shoulders.

How could Somawadee be surprised by something she knew so very long?

She turned to smile at her daughter and dipped her fork into Narisara’s tiramisu. Narisara in turn, dipped her fork in Somawadee’s chocolate cake; each taking a small piece of the other’s dessert.

Looking at her father with a strange pained gaze she said, “Did you not know father? Nowadays, mothers and daughter share everything.”
… .. …
Late into the night, the city was still awake. At the corner of a small intersection was a quaint little bar. The doors were large and overbearing; it both provoked and intimidated customers to enter. The sign looked aged, rusted by rain and worn by the wind. A single light lit the sign: Asylum. What sort of person would dare enter such a strange bar?

Inside, it was decorated with rich dark wood. Lights were dim but brightest around the counter. Each round table was surrounded by four lush chairs, the ones against the wall was more concealed and private. The bar counter was lined by small stools, facing a wall of well endowed collection of liquored beverage.

And yet, the bar smelled of fresh evergreen, of a wooded forest after the rain.

In this hustle and bustle city, this place truly was an asylum, a perfect place to escape the harsh realities of life. Unfortunately it was only open at midnight, lasting just five hours. No one could escape forever, eventually, they must return to reality.

Around 4 to 5 customers were scattered about, having small conversations underneath the candle lights. On a small stage was tiny old man, blissfully blowing on his saxophone. He may look like a beggar from down the street, but the music he created was soulful and untainted. All the customers were transfixed on him, all but one man, one solitary man. He stood behind the counter, carefully and tenderly shining a bottle of Napoleon Cognac.

Dark messy hair framed a strong, chiseled face. His lips were naturally red, tempting all women to want to kiss those lips. A modest square cut diamond glistened on the lobe of his left ear. The sleeves of his white-dress shirt was carelessly rolled up to his elbows, the collar was casually left exposed. With the black satin vest, he looked like a bartender.

Yet from the way his fingers moved to the way his eyes roamed the labels of the bottles, he was not an ordinary bartender.

This man was Noppadon Nirapai.

The large doors of the bar creaked open but no one heard, they were all entranced by the saxophone. Only Noppadon glanced up to see the newcomer, it was a woman—a beautiful woman. She wasn’t tall, just half a head shorter than him with long chocolate colored hair. The indigo dress she wore was humble but outlined all her curves perfectly. Where did she come from and why did she come to such a place?

A woman like her—who gave off an air of prim and proper nobility—should be at home in bed. Not wandering around the streets at such late hour.

The woman said nothing; she silently took a seat at one of the stools and admired the wide collection of alcohol. Her eyes were on the collection but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was far away, as if thinking back on something that should be forgotten.

Putting down the cognac bottle he was shining, he grabbed a cocktail shaker, pouring in some gin, grenadine, cream and egg whites and shook it for a moment before pouring it into a cocktail glass. Dropping a single cherry into the pink drink, he placed it in front of the woman, his face expressionless.

“Pink Lady,” said Noppadon.

The woman glared at the pink-coloured drink before glaring up at the man.

“I am not a little girl,” she said.

Only inexperienced women drink ‘Pink Lady’. Inexperienced women were technically still little girls. And Narisara Kantawong was no little girl.

After dinner with her parents, she wanted to go somewhere, get drunk and forget; not be insulted by some damn man who looked too good to eat.

Noppadon wanted to laugh loudly. He thought it was a suitable drink for such a woman, but now he knew for sure that she was as thorny as a rose. Maybe he should have remained still and waited for her to order and not be so nosy. He should know better than to try to console a woman who refuses to be consoled.

“This may be a bar but it’s not a place for you get drunk as you please,” lectured Noppadon as he stood in front of her, arms crossed.

Narisara snorted, “A bar is a place to drink, the more people drink, the more money you earn. Uncle, you are not very bright. I suggest you do not go into business.”

“Uncle?” Noppadon was flabbergasted. He may be older than her but there was no way he was old enough to be her uncle. Peeved and insulted, he placed his hands down on the counter and leaned dangerously close to her face, “Little girl, if I was your uncle, I’d spank your for disrespecting your elders.”

Lifting her chin slightly, she looked at him in defiance. “Not even my father dare lays a hand on me, you dare to hit me?”

“I prefer to call them love-taps.” He smirked as his voice dipped dangerously low and his breath ghosted her face, “Shall I demonstrate it for you?”

Her eyes widened and before he knew it, something wet and sweet splashed his face. Laughing, she blew him a mocking kiss and then she was gone, out the door. The cocktail glass was now empty.

Despite being splashed in the face with cocktail, he looked amused and enthralled. The same enthrallment a fanatic wine collector would have when he discovered that rare aged wine.
___________________________________________________

A part of the story was inspired by a very old Lakorn--there were no definite P'eks/N'eks, just a possessive adoptive mother and two adopted siblings.

 

[anavang]

AN UPDATE! Yay!!!!!!

 

[hanjieun30]

I'm already in love with this fanfic! I love the way you write, very descriptive :wub: I'll be waiting for your updates

 

[tastesweetlove]

love the update especially the last part when she threw the cocktail in his face.

adopted mother and the adopted siblings...interesting especially since she's possessive.

 

[pangmoua]

great fanfic, another ateam for me to keep track of and who knows how many i haven't finish reading or is keeping track of.

 

[jeeja]

yeah, i finally caught up.
i like ur writing style, very descriptive.
update me.

 

[Cupid Candy]

I wanted to read, more this is so interesting..............please update ^_^

 

[pze]

update soon im already addicted.....

kinda sad how her mom would be in a relationship with her ex....

 

[LimeGrass]

I'm glad someone got the hints I dropped. Yep, her mother was in a relationship with her ex, I'll reveal what happened in the next chapter.

CHAPTER 2:
Honey bees accompanied bright flowers, bright flowers accompanied blooming hearts.

But who was there to accompany the broken-hearted?

A vase of wilted flowers graced a cluttered desk, their stems an ugly brown and the once soft petals were wrinkled and dry like dead skin. The flowers were once a happy pink, a combination of daisies and spray roses. They were beautiful and always made her smile. Now they were a complete eyesore.

"Khun Ris, these flowers just came for you," said her secretary as she handed a bouquet of primroses in different shades of pink.

Narisara scowled at the bouquet, she was beginning to hate the colour pink with a passion.

Every single day since that wretched day, Warote had been sending her primroses—in the language of flowers they meant, 'please forgive me.' And every time she received them, she would toss them in the trash. If he was truly sincere and wanted her forgiveness he would come himself and beg her on all four limbs. But even if he went down on his hands and knees, she would never again spare him a glance. The crime he committed was far too hateful, just beyond redemption.

It was only the third week and she thought he gave up but this was just too much. She could no longer take it in stride.

"Burn them and take those ugly wilted flowers too," ordered Narisara.

"But…" said the secretary, it was a shame to throw away such beautiful flowers.

"Either you burn them or I will burn you," threatened Narisara in a chilling voice.

"Y…yes Khun Ris!" shrieked the secretary as she fumbled out with the flowers. Her job was more important than any flower—there was no reason why she would get herself fired just to save them.

As soon as the door shut, Narisara slumped into her chair, her lips were slowly quivering that she had to bite them. "Bastard," she whispered under her breath. She would not shed a tear for such a despicable man; he was not worth it—not worth it at all.

Choosing to forget about her anxieties, she decided to head to Hall D, some big shot had rented the hall for tomorrow evening but the preparations were still underway. If they didn't make it on schedule, it would mar her family's hotel name.

… .. …​

In the quaint little bar, there were only two men; one was throwing darts, the other mixing drinks.

"Are you really going to sell it to me?"

Noppadon smirked and replied, "Of course. I don't have the time to manage it. It's about time I got rid of it too."

His friend threw another dart before taking a seat on one of the stools. "Hmm…business must be bad huh?"

With a frown, Noppadon threw a peanut at him and said, "Business is all good; I'm more preoccupied with the winery. But if you don't want it then I'll sell it to someone else."

"Of course I'll buy it! Such a good location, I'd be stupid if I don't!" he exclaimed. "So when are you returning to Hua Hin? The little rascal's been causing a bit of trouble since you came here."

Thinking for a moment, he replied, "Soon. I haven't caught the big fish yet."

His friend looked at him strangely, "Since when did you like fishing?"

Noppadon only shrugged his shoulders; there was an impish look on his face as if he knew something no one knew. He took out two glasses and poured the amber drink he finished mixing into each glass, handing one to his friend.

"That reminds me, you better come tomorrow. You're our special V.I.P."

Instead of answering, Noppadon said, "Hey Sak, you'll take good care of this bar right?"

"You can count on me."

"Thanks."

Sak silently watched Noppadon as he mixed another drink and sighed internally. He knew how much this bar meant to him; after all, it was the only thing that reminded him of his once inseparable family. With his winery business booming, he had no time to look after the bar. Noppadon trusted very little people and he was even more adverse to close it down and just let it collect dust.

Rather than let something rot away in your hand, it was best to hand it over to someone else's hand who will make it flourish.

A shrilling sound startled them; it was Noppadon's cell phone. He quickly answered and spoke to the person on the other end with short clipped sentences, a bright smile lit his hard face, satisfied by what he was told.

"Who was that?"

"My Realtor, the estate I purchased not long ago just finished renovating, I could move in anytime I want.

Sak was surprised, "So you're planning to live in the city permanently? I thought you were going back to Hua Hin."

"I am and I will," replied Noppadon. "I just have a few things to deal with so it might take a while before I go back."

Though Sak wanted to know what important business Noppadon had, he did not ask. Noppadon would never tell him anyways, the man was as stubborn as an ox and never liked to be denied. He just hoped that whatever Noppadon was up to, it was not illegal, or he'll have to call up a good lawyer to save his crazy ass.

… .. …​

Late night, empty mansion.

Narisara finally arrived home. She had stayed back for hours dealing with incompetent staff and an uncompromising deadline. When you wanted things done right, you had to do it yourself.

As soon as she entered the mansion, she noticed how eerily quiet it was. The emptiness and coldness of a large mansion no longer bothered her, she was used to it. On the contrary if her home was full of warmth she'd feel awkward and out of place. Such a loving environment does not suit her.

Her father was rarely home—he was too busy indulging in his many mistresses to care about his real home. In this large mansion, besides a handful of servants, lived her and her mother but things between them were like a cold war. Only biting and sarcastic remarks were exchanged. A family bonded by blood but enemies inside and out. How could someone live in such a condition?

The lights were dimmed and the halls were empty. Where were all the servants? Even if it was late at night, a few would still be awake to welcome her home, offer her a warm meal and make small conversations.

Walking up the staircase, a faint sound resounded through the second floor hallway. It was low and faint, like someone moaning in pain.

Narisara decided to ignore it and turned to the right corridor—she needed a warm bath before her sleep.

Just two steps forward and the noise came again, stronger, louder. It was increasing even as she stood still. Just three steps more and Narisara knew what the noises were and where they were coming from.

Stressed from the late work and everything that happened weeks ago, Narisara could no longer contain her rage as she stomped her way to the left of the corridor, straight towards her parents' bedroom. Actually, it was more of her mother's room. Her parents slept in separate adjoined rooms.

Bam! BAM! BAM!

Narisara fiercely kicked and pounded on the door repeatedly with all her strength—luckily she still wore her heels.

She quickly stepped back when the door was pulled open. There standing in front of her was a half naked young man. A towel was carelessly and loosely thrown on for decency. His dark hair was tousled and wet from perspiration. His well toned body glisten a bronze colour under the light of the corridor.

His face was unrecognizable—sharp eagle eyes and a womanizing face. He must be her mother's new boy toy. She was beginning to wonder if her boy toys ever age.

"Call out my mother," ordered Narisara.

"She's currently unavailable right now—she has yet to return from heaven," he replied with a cocky grin.

Disgusted at the way he said it and the way he looked at her, Narisara snarled and said, "A pity she won't be up there for long."

"Oh don't worry; I can take her up there for as many times and as long as I want. My abilities are unmatched," he said and winked at her lewdly. "If you want I can demonstrate it."

Narisara scrunched up her nose in disgust and cursed, "Freak!" She quickly turned and walked away, the man was giving her goose bumps.

His last words suggesting he give her a demonstration reminded her of another strange man she wished to not remember. Why were all men such scums, wanting to demonstrate their perverseness on women they've never met?

She'll deal with her mother some other time, for now, she needed a bath to clean her of today's filth. Seeing that half naked man and knowing what happened in that room made her feel even more filthy. This was a place for her to get away from such filth but her mother loved to flaunt her promiscuous lifestyle as if to mock both her and her father.

Maybe if her father did not have many mistresses, things would not be this way. The only thing that could change a woman drastically was her love for one man. All women change because of love—they become foolish, willing to trade their soul with the devil.

Narisara Kantawong was not a foolish woman. She would not be caught in a man's charms again. She'd kill the man before he could tempt her.

__________________________________________

Next chapter, Noppadon and Narisara will meet again.

 

[anavang]

update soon!

 

[Cupid Candy]

Oooh i love it so far :wub: Her mother seems like a slut

 

[tastesweetlove]

OMG I can't wait for them to meet again. EWWW, I would be disgusted to if I walked in to see that, especially if it was my mother.