THE CONQUEROR'S CAPTIVE

ASH

WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD! SKIP THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE NOT 18

The fire roared beside them, its wild, relentless blaze mirroring the chaos still present in Surabhi's heart; of battles fought, love nearly lost, and the weight of everything she had survived.

Bhargav hadn't moved. His arms were still around her, her head resting against his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, could feel the slow rise and fall of his breath. But the silence between them now laced with something new, something warm and dangerous and safe all at once.

She looked up at him. His eyes met hers, searching, asking. She gave the smallest nod.

That was all it took.

His mouth found hers, not with hunger, but with reverence. Like he had waited a lifetime for this kiss. It was soft at first, unhurried. His hand came up to gently hold her cheek, his thumb brushing gently beneath her eye. She melted into him, opening up to him as if her body already knew the path.

The kiss deepened slowly, like a story unfolding. His other hand slid to her back, pulling her closer, anchoring her against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just slightly, and she felt his breath hitch against her lips. She had kissed him before. But this was different. This wasn't stolen or hidden in the shadows. This was them. Fully. Finally.

Bhargav pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "You sure?", he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Surabhi let out a breath, her lips brushing his. "I want you."

He kissed her again, deeper now, more certain. As if her words had broken some dam inside him. He lifted her into his arms without breaking the kiss, and she clutched at his shoulders as he laid her down on the couch that was right in front of the burning lehenga. Surabhi watched him as he knelt beside her, eyes scanning her face for any hesitation. There was none. She reached up, touched his jaw, and smiled.

Then his hands were on her again, at her waist, her hips, the curve of her thigh. Slow, firm, reverent. His kisses trailed from her lips to her jaw, down her neck, as her body arched toward him instinctively. Every place he touched felt like it had been waiting for him.

Her hands were no less curious. She explored the lines of his back, the strength in his shoulders, the dip where his spine met his waist. Her breath caught when she felt his skin under hers, warm and alive. Clothes fell away piece by piece, like pages being turned.

When she was bare beneath him, he paused. Just looked at her. Not like a man looking at a woman. But like a man seeing his future. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, voice barely a whisper. Surabhi blinked, tears threatening, but she held them back. She reached for him instead, pulling him down to her, needing him closer, needing to be his in every way.

The moment he entered her, she gasped softly. He stilled, kissing her temple, whispering her name again and again like a prayer.

"I've got you. You're safe," he said.

She nodded, her nails grazing his back. The burn faded into warmth, the sting into something tender. He moved slowly, giving her time, reading every shift in her breath, every tiny sound.

And then, they found a rhythm. One that was theirs alone. A rhythm that felt like home.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper. His hands gripped the couch on either side of her, anchoring himself as her body welcomed him, wrapped around him.

They moved together like they were made for this, made for each other. Her name fell from his lips like a promise, and she whispered his like it was the only word she remembered.