Chapter 36
A Love That Feels Like War
The moment he kissed her, the world blurred.
There was no past.
No future.
Just this moment.
Just him.
His lips were slow but unyielding, tasting her like he had all the time in the world.
His fingers gripped her waist, pressing her against him—possessive, claiming, unapologetic.
And Anvi?
She let him.
---
A King Who Demands Everything
The heat between them was intoxicating, suffocating.
Agastya’s hands slid down, tracing the curve of her spine.
"You belong to me, Pari." His voice was a whisper against her lips, dark and dangerous.
She trembled.
Because it wasn’t a request.
It wasn’t a question.
It was a command.
One she could never disobey.
Her fingers clutched his sherwani, pulling him closer, craving the very man she swore to hate.
And Agastya?
He felt it.
Felt her surrender.
Felt her resistance shatter.
And it drove him mad.
---
A Queen Who Fights Even in Defeat
"You ruin everything," she whispered.
Agastya smirked, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her face up.
"I ruin you, jaan."
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
Because she knew—he was right.
But she refused to say it.
Refused to give him that power.
So instead—she kissed him back.
Harder.
Fiercer.
With all the rage and passion burning inside her.
And Agastya?
He welcomed it.
Welcomed the fire.
Welcomed the war.
Because he knew—she could fight all she wanted.
In the end, she was still his.
---
Obsession Wrapped in Desire
He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist.
The bed was near.
Too near.
But before they could reach it—
A knock echoed through the room.
Sharp. Loud. Unforgiving.
Anvi froze.
Agastya growled, his grip tightening around her.
"Who dares?" His voice was low, lethal.
Another knock.
And then—
A familiar voice.
"Hukum. We have a problem."
It was Veer.
And from the urgency in his tone—it wasn’t something Agastya could ignore.
The moment shattered.
The fire between them dimmed.
But the hunger?
That remained.
Agastya set her down, his dark eyes still locked onto hers.
"This isn’t over."
Her breath was unsteady.
Her heart was wild.
And as he walked away, leaving her standing there—she knew.
Nothing between them would ever be over.
Because this wasn’t just love.
This was war.
And Agastya Singh Rathore?
Always won.
---
The Devil’s Wrath
The air shifted the moment Agastya stepped out of the room.
Gone was the man who had just kissed her senseless.
In his place—stood the King.
Cold. Calculated. Lethal.
And the moment he locked eyes with Veer, the temperature dropped.
"What is it?" Agastya’s voice was sharp, deadly.
Veer hesitated.
And that was never a good sign.
"There’s been an attack."
Silence.
Deadly. Deafening.
Then—Agastya smiled.
And Anvi?
She felt fear creep into her bones.
Because that wasn’t a smile.
That was a warning.
---
The King’s Rage Has No Mercy
Agastya’s jaw ticked.
"Who?"
"The Rawat clan." Veer’s voice was tight. "They hit one of our shipment routes. Our men fought back, but... we lost four."
Four.
Four of his men.
Men who had families.
Men who swore loyalty to him.
Men who died under his reign.
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"Where are they?"
Veer exhaled. "Hiding. But we know where."
Agastya rolled his sleeves up, his movements slow, deliberate.
"Then let’s remind them who the real devil is."
And just like that—he walked away.
Towards war.
Towards blood.
Towards a storm only he could control.
---
A Queen Who Can No Longer Ignore the Monster
Anvi’s pulse raced.
She had seen glimpses of this side of him before.
The ruthless.
The dangerous.
The untouchable.
But now?
Now, she was seeing the full force of Hukum.
And it sent a shiver down her spine.
She stepped forward, her hand catching his wrist.
"Agastya."
His muscles tensed.
It was rare—someone stopping him.
Rarer still—someone daring to touch him when he was like this.
He turned to her, eyes darker than the night.
"Don’t, Pari." His voice was a warning.
But she didn’t let go.
"You don’t have to do this."
His smirk was cold. "I don’t?"
"You’re already more powerful than them. You don’t need to spill more blood."
He stepped closer.
Close enough that she could feel the raw power radiating off of him.
"That’s where you’re wrong, jaan." His fingers trailed up her arm. "Power is not given. It’s taken. And it’s kept—by fear."
Her breath shook.
Because this wasn’t a man she could reason with.
This was a king who had already decided the fate of his enemies.
And nothing—**not even her—**could stop him.
---
Blood Stains a King’s Hands, But Not His Heart
He lifted her chin, his touch both gentle and firm.
"Stay here."
Her eyes widened. "You can’t just lock me away—"
"Pari." His voice was velvet-coated steel. "You are mine. And what’s mine—" his thumb traced her lower lip, "stays protected."
Her heart clenched.
She wanted to fight.
She wanted to break through the walls he had built.
But he was already walking away.
Already disappearing into the night.
And the only thing left behind?
Was the storm he carried in his wake.