Arnav Singh Bajaj

Arnav, a 24-year-old towering man at 6 feet 2 inches. His body is hard, his mind even harder. Black eyes hide shadows of darkness—as if some deep wound has devoured his soul. Jawline sharp like a knife's edge, lips always curled in a mocking smirk. In black leather jacket, tight denim, and boots, he walks like the king of the night. The king of dark romance, Arnav. Love to him is possession, or destruction. He doesn't win his beloved; he cages her. "You're mine, forever," his whisper sends shivers down the spine. But his love is poisoned—jealousy, control, an attraction like a night thief. Once, he saved his beloved from a dark alley, but since then, he became her shadow. Every night he returns, mixing venom in his kisses. Arnav's past is mysterious—perhaps a lost love, or family betrayal. He doesn't love; he hunts. But deep in his eyes hides a broken heart that only craves 'her'. Dark, intense, irresistible.