Chapter 6 #3
"Why are you really doing this?" The question had been building for days. "Is it guilt? Duty? Because you feel responsible for the explosion?"
The brushing stopped. He set down the brush and moved around to face her, his expression intense.
"Yes," he said simply. "All of those things. But also—" He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Because I'm beginning to realize what I threw away. What I never appreciated. And I want it back. I want you."
Her breath caught. "You don't know me well enough to want me."
"Then let me know you." His eyes burned into hers. "Let me learn every part of you. Your fears. Your dreams. Your secrets. Let me earn the privilege of being your husband."
"And if I can't? If the walls are too high?"
"Then I'll climb them." His smile was dark, determined. "I'm very persistent, Akriti. When I want something, I don't give up. And I want you."
The words hung between them, heavy with promise and threat.
She should have been afraid. Should have protected herself.
Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, her eyes closing as his thumb continued its gentle caress.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"I know."
"I don't trust easily anymore."
"I know that too."
"And if you hurt me again—"
"I won't." His voice was absolute. "I swear to God, Akriti. I won't."
She wanted to believe him.
And that was the most terrifying thing of all.
*
The turning point which Akriti felt came on a night when nightmares dragged her from sleep.
The explosion. The pain. Mohan Uncle's blood. The smell of burning metal and flesh. The certainty that she was dying alone.
Akriti woke screaming, thrashing against the sheets, her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst from her chest.
"No! No, please—Uncle, wake up—please—"
Strong hands gripped her shoulders. "Akriti. Akriti, wake up. You're safe."
She fought against the hold, still trapped in the nightmare. "Let me go—I have to help him—he's hurt—"
"He's gone. I'm sorry, he's gone. But you're safe. You're here. You're safe."
The voice penetrated the terror. Familiar. Deep. Anchoring.
Raghav.
Her eyes opened, focusing on his face in the dim light. He was leaning over her, his expression tight with concern, his hands gentle despite their strength.
"Raghav?" Her voice was a broken whisper.
"I'm here. I've got you." He gathered her against his chest, one hand cradling her head, the other wrapped around her waist. "You're safe. I promise. You're safe."
She broke.
Three weeks of holding it together, of being strong, of pretending she could handle this—it all shattered.
She sobbed into his chest, her fists clutching his shirt, her whole body shaking with the force of her tears. The fear poured out of her. The trauma. The pain. The loss.
Mohan Uncle was dead. A kind man who'd driven her for years, who'd called her "beti," who'd died because he'd been in the wrong car at the wrong time.
Dead because of her. Because she'd taken that car. Because someone had wanted Raghav dead and she'd been collateral damage.
"It's my fault," she gasped. "He died because of me—"
"No." Raghav's voice was fierce. "He died because someone planted a bomb meant for me. This is my fault. All of it. Your pain, his death, everything."
"Why now?" The question tore from her throat. "Why do you care now? After three years of nothing, why now?"
He pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes intense even in the darkness. "Because I was blind. Because I was a fool. Because I was so consumed with building an empire that I couldn't see what was right in front of me."
"Words are easy, Raghav." Her voice was ragged. "You're good with words. Good with charm when you want something. But words don't erase three years."
"No." He brushed tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "They don't. But let me prove it with actions. Let me show you every single day that this is real. That you matter. That I—" He stopped, seeming to struggle with the words.
"That you what?"
"That I care." The admission seemed to cost him. "More than I thought I could. More than I ever expected to."
She stared at him, searching for lies, for manipulation. But in the dim light, all she saw was raw honesty.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know."
"I can't go through this again. Being forgotten. Being nothing to you."
"You'll never be nothing to me again." His forehead pressed against hers. "I swear it, Akriti. On my life. On my empire. On everything I am—you'll never be nothing to me again."
The words should have sounded melodramatic. Instead, they sounded like a vow.
Her breathing had calmed, but she was still pressed against his chest, wrapped in his arms, closer than they'd ever been.
She could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Real.
"Don't let go," she heard herself whisper.
"Never." His arms tightened around her. "Sleep. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
She closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling at her, but one more question escaped. "Promise?"
"I promise."
And cradled against his chest, surrounded by his warmth and his scent and the steady rhythm of his breathing, Akriti finally let herself believe.
Just a little.
Just enough to sleep.
*
When she woke the next morning, she was still in his arms. He'd held her all night, she realized. Stayed awake to keep watch, to make sure the nightmares didn't return.
His eyes were open, watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough.
"You didn't sleep."
"I was keeping watch."
"Over me?"
"Always." The word was simple. Absolute. Possessive.
Something shifted between them. The air grew heavier, charged with an awareness that had been building for weeks.
His hand was still on her waist, warm through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her fingers were curled in his shirt. Their faces were inches apart.
"Akriti." Her name on his lips sounded different this morning. Deeper. Hungrier.
"Yes?"
"I want to kiss you."
Her heart stopped. Started again, racing. "Why?"
"Because I've wanted to for days. Because you're in my arms and you smell like jasmine and I'm losing my mind."
"I'm still healing—"
"I know. Which is why I'm asking permission. Not taking." His eyes burned into hers. "Tell me yes. Or tell me to stop. But tell me something, because my control is hanging by a thread."
She should say stop. Should protect herself. Should maintain the boundaries that kept her safe.
Instead, she heard herself whisper, "Yes."
His eyes darkened, and then he was leaning in, slowly, giving her time to change her mind.
She didn't.
His lips touched hers, and the world exploded.
It wasn't gentle. Wasn't tentative. It was three years of denial and longing and frustration poured into a single kiss.
His mouth moved over hers with desperate hunger, claiming, possessing. His hand slid into her hair, angling her head for better access. His other arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer despite her injuries.
Akriti gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept against hers, and pleasure shot through her body like lightning.
She'd never been kissed before. Had never experienced this kind of consuming passion.
She kissed him back with equal desperation, three years of loneliness and longing finding expression. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more heat, more everything.
He groaned against her mouth, the sound raw and male and utterly arousing. His hand moved from her waist to her hip, his fingers flexing, pulling her body against his.
She could feel him—all of him. The hard planes of his chest. The strength in his arms. The evidence of his desire pressing against her thigh.
Heat pooled low in her belly. Her body responded instinctively, arching into him, seeking more of that delicious friction.
"Akriti." He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. "We need to stop."
"Why?" The word came out pleading.
"Because you're still healing. Because if we don't stop now, I won't be able to." His jaw was tight with the effort of control. "And I won't take you when you're vulnerable. When you might regret it later."
"I won't regret—"
He pressed a finger to her lips. "You might. And I can't risk that. I can't risk you hating me for taking advantage."
Frustration warred with something that might have been respect. "So what? You kiss me like that and then just stop?"
"Yes." His smile was strained, dark. "For now."
"For now?"
"When I take you, Akriti—" His voice dropped to something dangerous, something that sent shivers down her spine.
"—it won't be while you're injured. It won't be quick or gentle.
It'll be everything I've been holding back.
Everything I've been dreaming about since I first saw you in that hospital bed and realized I'd nearly lost you. "
Her breath caught. "Raghav—"