Chapter 39
The Devil’s Temptation
Anvi’s breath hitched.
She was caged.
Trapped between the cold wall and him.
Agastya Singh Rathore.
The man she feared, hated… yet couldn’t escape.
His body pressed dangerously close, heat radiating from him in waves.
His scent—intoxicating. Dark. Familiar.
"Say it, Pari."
His voice was low, teasing. A dark promise.
"Say you don’t belong to me."
She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
"I—"
She couldn’t.
And he knew it.
His lips curved.
"That’s what I thought."
---
?? A War Between Desire & Resistance
Her chest heaved.
She hated how her body reacted to him.
How his touch sent shivers down her spine.
How his voice alone could leave her breathless.
"You’re a monster, Agastya."
His dark eyes gleamed.
"And yet, you can’t stop trembling under my touch."
She stiffened, but he wasn’t wrong.
And that’s what terrified her the most.
He leaned in, his breath fanning against her lips.
"Tell me to stop, Pari."
Her pulse skipped.
His fingers traced the curve of her waist, possessive, unrelenting.
"Tell me you don’t want this."
She couldn’t.
Her silence was his answer.
And Agastya?
He never played fair.
---
?? The Devil’s Possession
"You’ll learn soon enough, jaan." His voice was silk and danger.
"You don’t fight me. You surrender."
Her eyes widened.
"Agastya—"
But he had already made his decision.
With one swift motion, he lifted her into his arms.
She gasped, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
"W-Where are you taking me?!"
He smirked. "Somewhere you can’t run, Pari. Somewhere you’ll finally accept what you are to me."
Her heart pounded.
Because for the first time—she realized the truth.
Agastya Singh Rathore was not just a man.
He was her fate.
And there was no escaping him now.
---
His Forever
Anvi’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
She struggled in Agastya’s grip, her fingers gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
"Put me down, Agastya!" she hissed, but her voice lacked the conviction it once held.
His arms tightened around her as he strode through the grand hallways of his mansion, his grip unyielding.
"Enough, Pari."
His tone brooked no argument.
She hated how easily he carried her, how effortless it was for him to trap her in his world.
How natural it felt.
And then—the doors slammed shut.
His bedroom.
His territory.
Her prison.
He placed her on the bed, stepping back, his dark eyes watching her every move.
Anvi scrambled back, pressing against the headboard. "What do you want from me?"
Agastya smirked, but there was no amusement in his gaze. "Everything."
Her breath hitched.
---
?? The Breaking Point
She shook her head, refusing to accept the inevitable.
"I’ll never be yours, Agastya."
The air grew thick.
Agastya stepped forward, hands braced against the bed on either side of her.
His body caged her in.
His scent drowned her.
And his voice?
It shattered everything she thought she knew.
"You already are, Pari."
She turned her face away, her breath uneven.
But he didn’t let her escape.
Fingers grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You can lie to yourself all you want, but I see you. I feel you. I own every damn part of you."
Her pulse raced.
Because deep down, she knew—he wasn’t wrong.
And that was her greatest weakness.
Her greatest downfall.
---
?? A King Who Won’t Let Go
Agastya’s thumb traced her lips, his touch burning.
"You keep fighting me, Pari. But tell me—"
His lips hovered just over hers, so close, yet refusing to touch.
"Who are you really fighting? Me? Or yourself?"
Her breath hitched.
Because she didn’t have an answer.
Her fingers trembled as they pressed against his chest, pushing weakly.
But he was unmovable.
His eyes held her captive.
"Say you don’t want this, Pari. Say you don’t feel this."
She opened her mouth—to deny him, to push him away.
But her silence?
It betrayed her.
And Agastya?
He never played fair.
His lips finally claimed hers.
Possessive. Demanding. Unforgiving.
And she was lost.