41
I woke up the next morning completely sore-and I mean, completely. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been through war... a very pleasurable war.
The silk sheet barely covered me, and as I slowly blinked my eyes open, I was greeted with the sight of hickeys-so many hickeys-scattered across my skin like his signature, bold and unapologetic.
What the hell happened last night?
I groaned, trying to shift, but immediately winced. "Damn..." I whispered to myself, making a full-on crying face. "I can't even move."
And that's when I looked beside me.
There he was.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
Sleeping like sin in human form. Lying on his stomach, his dusky skin glowing in the morning sunlight that crept through the sheer curtains. The sheets rested dangerously low on his hips, but my eyes were caught on him.
His hand was wrapped around my waist-possessively, firmly-as though even in sleep, he refused to let go.
I glared at him, or tried to at least. "Look at this shameless man sleeping peacefully after ruining my existence," I muttered under my breath. "Monster."
I tried moving again, and again, winced. "Ugh! Katha, why are you like this? You had one job-say no after round three. But no, you just had to provoke him..."
I pouted dramatically before my gaze landed on his back.
And instantly, my pout turned into a very wicked smirk.
There it was. My doing. My mark.
A deep bite on his shoulder, another one blooming across his neck, and scratch marks clawed all over his back like wild art.
Ohhh yes, baby. Now that's satisfaction.
"Serves you right," I whispered to his sleeping figure. "Look at you... looking like a victim of a passionate crime scene."
He shifted a little in his sleep, pulling me even closer, murmuring, "Stop glaring, woman... you were louder than me last night."
My eyes widened. "You're awake?!"
"Was pretending to sleep just to hear you whine like a kitten," he said without opening his eyes. "Also... ow."
I gasped. "You deserve that 'ow', Mr. I-have-no-off-switch. You're not allowed to be this good at ruining people."
He finally opened one eye, smirking lazily. "Oh, sweetheart... you were the one who whispered 'harder, Datta' like a prayer at 3 a.m. So, tell me-who ruined who?"
I blushed furiously and smacked his arm. "Shut up!"
He laughed, that deep husky morning voice sending shivers down my spine again. "Come here, you little firecracker."
"No, I can't move. I'm broken."
"Don't worry," he said, dragging me back into him easily, wrapping both arms around me now. "You don't need to move today. I'll do all the moving. Breakfast, bath, clothes... maybe another round?"
I slapped his chest. "I will murder you."
He chuckled into my neck, his breath warm. "If this is how I die, I'm okay with it."
And just like that... I stopped glaring. Because even in the soreness, even in the chaos, there was peace.
In his arms, I wasn't the Queen of Justice.
I was just his Katha.
And he was just my Datta.
Tired, marked, dangerous, and mine.
I tried moving again, just a little, to shift the weight of the sheet. But the moment I did, I winced-again-and groaned like an 80-year-old. My whole body felt like I had run a marathon on broken glass and then been tackled by a thousand emotions.
Dattatriya opened his eyes instantly, his gaze sharp but soft at once. He rose slightly on his elbow, brushing his fingers down my arm.
"Sunshine," he whispered, voice hoarse from sleep, "is it hurting too much?"
His brows furrowed, and for a man feared by governments and enemies alike, that hint of worry in his voice was enough to make my heart melt like butter on hot paratha.
I nodded slowly, face scrunching. But even in the ache, there was a teasing fire in my eyes. I whispered, lips barely brushing his jaw, "But I loved... every second of it."
A slow smirk spread on his face, pure devil. "Knew it," he murmured, pride laced with heat. "You always act tough, but in the end, you beg for me."
Before I could slap him again, he wrapped both arms around me and pulled me into his chest with a tight hug, careful but possessive.
"You're never leaving this bed today," he murmured against my hair. "Not after what you let me do to you last night. And definitely not until I kiss every sore spot better."
I chuckled weakly, nose buried in his neck. "At this rate, I'll never walk straight again."
He kissed my forehead gently. "Good. Let the world see the walk of a woman thoroughly loved."
I gasped dramatically. "Datta!"
He grinned. "What? You started it. Don't act innocent now."
We lay there, tangled in each other, wrapped in post-chaos comfort. His fingers softly traced patterns on my back-circles, lines, sometimes letters I couldn't catch.
"Was it too much?" he asked after a moment, softly. "Last night?"
I looked up into his eyes. "No. It was perfect. You were perfect."
He let out a long breath and pressed his lips to my temple. "You scare me sometimes, Katha."
"Why?" I whispered.
"Because I never thought I'd love someone this much. And you? You make me want things I never believed I deserved."
I cupped his face gently, thumb brushing his cheek. "And yet, here you are... deserving all of it."
He kissed me again, slow and deep, and I felt it-his apology for the pain, his pride in the aftermath, his promise to never stop worshipping me in love and madness.
"Want some breakfast in bed, sunshine?" he whispered, lips brushing mine.
"Only if you're the meal," I smirked.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Woman, you are dangerous."
"Look who's talking," I whispered back.
And as the sun poured golden light over our tangled limbs, I knew-this soreness, this peace, this man-it was all mine. And I wouldn't trade a single ache for the world.
Just as I was about to melt deeper into Dattatriya's embrace, my phone buzzed aggressively on the nightstand.
I sighed, half growling, "Who is disturbing my afterglow?" and reached for it.
The screen flashed Lana. My brows immediately drew together. I picked up the call without wasting a second.
"Lana?" I asked, tone sharp.
"Ma'am..." she sounded shaken. "Manya's here. She's sitting in your office... she looks... terrified. Something's wrong. She's not speaking to anyone-just keeps asking for you."
I immediately sat up, wincing as pain rippled down my spine. "What? Is she okay? Did someone follow her?"
"She's not saying anything, just clutching her stomach and staring at the door. I tried talking to her, even offered water. She's just... frozen."
I pressed my fingers to my temple, heart now pacing. "Okay. I'm coming. Don't leave her alone. Don't let anyone-anyone-into my office."
"Yes, ma'am."
I hung up without another word, worry setting in like ice.
As I tried to stand, my legs gave a warning protest. I bit my lip to keep from yelping and sank back down on the bed with a sigh. "Damn it."
Before I could even blink, Dattatriya was behind me, arms sliding around my waist from the back. He pressed a kiss to the crook of my neck and murmured, "Sunshine... you're still sore. Where are you trying to run off to?"
I closed my eyes, breathing him in. "There's a client... she's scared. Lana says something's wrong. I have to go."
He didn't question it-didn't ask who, or why. That was Datta. He trusted me even when his entire world ran on suspicion.
He just held me tighter and said, "You're not going to get far like this, meri jaan."
"I'm fine-" I started.
"Shut up," he murmured, and before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly in his arms.
"Dattatriya!" I shrieked, swatting his chest lightly.
"You're sore. I'm responsible. I'm fixing it," he smirked, already walking toward the bathroom. "And before you run off saving the world again, we're doing this properly."
"Oh? Properly?" I raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing playfully.
He didn't respond. Just opened the bathroom door, turned on the hot water, and walked us in like a man on a mission.
The steam began to rise. He looked down at me, intense and teasing all at once.
"You need help relaxing those muscles, advocate. Let me take care of my queen."
What happened next didn't need words.
Let's just say - the soreness? It didn't go away. But it definitely turned into something far more sinful.
And through it all... Dattatriya still didn't know who Manya was.
But he was about to.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my blouse with a sigh, still wincing slightly with every movement well it took me 45 mins to cover all the visible hickeys. I shot a sharp glare toward Dattatriya, who was lounging against the doorframe with a far-too-pleased expression.
"You said you'd help with the soreness," I muttered, brushing my hair back into a sleek ponytail, "not make it worse."
He pushed off the frame, sauntering toward me with that signature predator-like grace, and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes darkened with amusement. "What can I do, sunshine?" he whispered, kissing my lips softly. "I can't get enough of you."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the shy smile that tugged at my lips. Damn him.
We left shortly after, Dattatriya insisting on driving me himself. As he pulled out of our villa driveway, one hand rested casually on the wheel, the other finding mine.
"Who is this girl?" he asked as we drove. "Manya?"
I sighed, suddenly serious. "She came to my office yesterday.
Pregnant. Burn marks on her arms. Told me her husband and in-laws have been torturing her-demanding dowry, beating her, even threatening to hurt the baby.
She only came to file the case for her daughter's safety.
Can you imagine that, Datta? She's burning, inside and out, but still fighting-for her child. "
Dattatriya's jaw clenched, his knuckles going white around the wheel. "What's the husband's name?"
"Rajeev Sharma. His parents are old money. The kind that think they own women like furniture."
He didn't say anything for a while, but the shift in his aura was dangerous. Silent rage. A storm gathering.
Finally, we reached the firm. "I'll wait," he said simply, squeezing my hand before I stepped out.
I turned to him and smiled. "Thank you," I whispered, then stepped out of the car.
But the moment I turned toward the building, the smile shattered on my lips.
Flames.
Screams.
Lana was on the floor, trying to crawl toward the chaos but three men holding her down with evil force, eyes wide with horror. And in the middle of the lobby-Manya. Her body engulfed in flames, her screams filling the room.
"MANYA!" I screamed, my heels hitting the pavement as I ran inside like lightning.
Three figures stood watching-an old man, an older woman, and a young man, all familiar from Manya's files. But they weren't my concern.
Only Manya mattered.
Her body was burning-burning-and her mouth was open in a scream so raw it tore through my chest. Her sari had melted against her skin, and her arms flailed as her unborn baby burned with her.
My brain barely processed what I was doing.
"DATTA!" I screamed.
But he was already there.
Rushing in with a thick fireproof blanket, his bodyguards trailing with extinguishers.
I grabbed the blanket from his hands, ignoring the pain that flared across my arms and shoulders as I wrapped it around Manya's body, smothering the fire.
My eyes stung from the smoke, but I didn't stop. I wouldn't stop.
The bodyguards sprayed foam over the flames as Dattatriya kneeled beside us, checking her vitals, scanning her pulse.
Manya's body was burnt, blistered, and soaked in chemicals-but she was alive. Barely.
"D-Didi..." she whimpered, her voice the sound of breaking glass.
I held her hand, crying openly now. "Don't talk, Manya. We're taking you to the hospital. You'll be okay. I promise you."
But she tightened her grip. "Save my baby... save my daughter, didi..."
My chest broke in half.
Dattatriya didn't wait another second. He scooped Manya into his arms, carrying her like she weighed nothing. "We can't wait for help. Let's go."
I nodded, blinking through tears. "Lana-come!"
Lana stumbled toward us, bruised and shaking. I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me.
As we raced toward the car, I looked back-only to see them.
Rajeev Sharma. His parents.
Holding the matchbox.
Holding the petrol can.
Smirking.
Smirking.
My jaw clenched. My body trembled-not from fear, but from the raw rage that brewed in my bones like poison.
I didn't say a word. Didn't scream. Didn't cry.
But the look I gave them promised one thing:
They would burn too.
Just not with fire.
With me.
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