Chapter 16
The room was silent.
Not the kind of silence that came with peace.
The kind that came before destruction.
Anvi could still feel the weight of Agastya's touch on her skin, the burn of his lips against her throat, the way his breath had ghosted over her like a temptation she should have resisted.
She should have hated it.
Should have hated him.
But her body had betrayed her.
And now?
Now, he was about to burn the world for her.
---
Agastya adjusted the watch on his wrist, slipping his gun into its holster as he turned toward Kabir.
"Where is he?" His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Kabir exhaled. "Vikram was last seen near the docks. He was talking to someone from the Oberoi side."
Anvi's blood ran cold. "Aarav?"
Agastya's jaw tightened. "No. If Aarav had made a move against me, he wouldn't have been this subtle."
His fingers flexed, his control razor-thin.
"Vikram is getting desperate. He made a mistake touching something that belongs to me."
Anvi flinched.
Not at his words.
At the way he meant them.
Because when Agastya Singh Rathore claimed something as his...
He would kill to keep it.
---
The docks were eerily quiet when Agastya arrived.
His men surrounded the area, their guns drawn, their movements swift and controlled.
But Agastya?
Agastya didn't need a gun to be deadly.
His mere presence was enough to make the shadows themselves tremble.
And when he stepped into the abandoned warehouse by the water, he found Vikram waiting.
A smirk on his lips.
A cigarette between his fingers.
And an arrogance that would be his downfall.
"Hukum." Vikram's voice was smooth, mocking.
Agastya didn't react.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Because right now?
He was more monster than man.
"You put your hands where they don't belong, Vikram."
Vikram laughed. "I didn't touch her."
Agastya's lips curled into something deadly.
"No. But you thought about it."
Vikram took a slow drag from his cigarette. "And if I did? What would you do, Rathore?"
Agastya tilted his head.
And then he moved.
Before Vikram could react, Agastya had grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the rusted metal wall.
The cigarette fell from his lips.
His smirk vanished.
"Let me tell you exactly what I'll do, Vikram." Agastya's voice was dangerously soft.
"I'll make sure no one remembers your name."
Vikram struggled, gasping for air.
But Agastya?
Agastya wasn't finished.
He leaned in, his voice a promise of death.
"And if you so much as look at her again, I'll carve your name into your own chest before I let you die."
And then-
He let go.
Vikram fell to the ground, coughing, trembling, broken.
Agastya turned to his men.
His voice was final.
"Make sure he remembers who he belongs to."
And then-he walked away.
Because Vikram was no longer worth his time.
---
Back at the mansion, Anvi paced the bedroom, her chest tight.
She hated that she was waiting for him.
That her mind was filled with thoughts of what he was doing, what he had done.
And most of all-
She hated that a part of her felt safe knowing he was willing to burn the world for her.
The doors burst open.
Her breath hitched as Agastya walked in.
His shirt was undone at the collar, his sleeves rolled up, his knuckles bruised.
His eyes-dark, wild, unhinged.
She stepped back.
He followed.
Her back hit the wall.
His hands came up, trapping her in place.
His scent-sandalwood, smoke, and something sinful-wrapped around her.
Her pulse pounded.
He leaned in, his lips just inches from hers.
His voice was rough, hoarse with something deeper than rage.
"I told you, Pari. No one touches what's mine."
Her breath shook.
Because for the first time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to run...
Or if she wanted to be ruined by him.
___________________________________________
The room was silent, but the air between them wasn't.
It was charged. Tense. Suffocating.
Anvi's back was against the cold wall, trapped between stone and a man made of fire.
Agastya stood in front of her, his hands caging her in.
His shirt was slightly undone, exposing the golden skin of his collarbone. His knuckles were bruised, a silent reminder of what he had done for her.
And his eyes-wild, dark, full of something raw- were locked onto hers.
He hadn't touched her.
Not yet.
But his presence alone was enough to consume her.
---
"I told you, Pari," Agastya murmured, his voice low, hoarse with restraint.
"No one touches what's mine."
Anvi's breath hitched.
Her nails dug into her palms as she glared at him. "I'm not yours."
His jaw ticked. "Then why are you shaking?"
Her body betrayed her.
Her pulse hammered against her skin.
Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, he was getting under her skin.
And Agastya?
He knew it.
A slow, wicked smirk curved his lips as he leaned in, his breath fanning against her cheek.
"Say you don't want this, Pari."
His fingers brushed against her wrist.
Barely a touch.
But it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Her lips parted, her breath uneven.
"I..."
Say it.
Say you don't want this.
Say you hate him.
Say anything.
But the words never came.
Because the truth was far more dangerous.
And Agastya?
He could see it in her eyes.
His smirk disappeared.
His fingers slid to her jaw, tilting her face up.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Pari..."
And then-his lips brushed against hers.
Not a kiss.
Not yet.
Just a touch. A test. A warning.
And the moment it happened-
Anvi forgot how to breathe.
---
The world outside ceased to exist.
There was no mansion.
No threats.
No war.
There was only this.
Only his lips ghosting over hers.
Only the heat radiating from his skin.
Only the maddening ache that neither of them could deny anymore.
Agastya's hands tightened on her waist.
Possessive. Claiming. Unrelenting.
And then, as if he had been holding himself back for too long-
He kissed her.
Rough. Desperate. Starving.
Like he had been dying of thirst and she was the only thing that could save him.
Anvi gasped, her fingers fisting his shirt, unsure if she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.
But her hesitation was his answer.
Because she wasn't stopping him.
She wasn't fighting.
She was burning with him.
And that?
That was his undoing.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he pressed her harder against the wall, his hands roaming, gripping, claiming.
Anvi's head spun, her body betraying her, melting against him.
Her mind screamed at her to run.
But her body?
Her body was already his.
---
Agastya tore his lips from hers, his breathing ragged.
His forehead rested against hers, his grip still firm on her waist.
He was losing control.
And she?
She was letting him.
Her breath was shaky, her fingers still curled into his shirt.
She couldn't look at him.
Because she knew-if she did, she would see the truth.
And the truth was dangerous.
Agastya lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers.
"You hate me, Pari?" His voice was low, rough. "Then why do you taste like mine?"
Her pulse stuttered.
"I..." She swallowed, her voice breaking. "This was a mistake."
His jaw clenched.
And then, his grip tightened, dragging her closer.
"No, Pari." His lips brushed against her ear, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "This was inevitable."
Her stomach twisted.
She had to escape.
Because if she didn't...
She would never recover from this.
She shoved at his chest, her breathing uneven. "Let me go, Agastya."
For the first time-he did.
But his expression had shifted.
The teasing was gone.
The amusement had vanished.
And what was left?
A man who had just lost the last thread of his control.
"Go," he murmured, stepping back. "Before I change my mind."
She didn't wait.
She ran.
But as she disappeared down the hall, Agastya didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Because for the first time in his life-
He had finally tasted her.
And now?
Now, he knew he would never be able to stop.