60

I've realised this lately, ever since Rudra shared a close proximity with Niharika, some of the readers have grown a dislike towards him. Which is understandable, you don't want the main character getting cosy with someone who's not the fl. But he didn't do it for fun, he did it to test the nature of her feelings, to check whether all of her was fake. Because if she was here to destroy the Rajawats, in her eyes he is a Rajawat too, and he wanted to be sure she has nothing against him. Seduction is an old technique of manipulation. And it works wonders.

Now coming to his behaviour lately, he's not ignoring Taranya or her feelings, he's simply too focused on the revenge and as you read the climax, you'll understand why he was so busy and couldn't make time for her. Also, even if Taranya murdered someone for her husband, does not mean she's immediately liable for her husband's understanding of her unspoken feelings, especially when he just faced his rapist. He has his own demons to fight, bigger ones. He thought sex would distract him from having a breakdown, so he communicated his need. Similarly, Taranya could have done the same. Coming to my last point, Rajawat siblings are hard to love. They put themselves on a pedestal and fail to see their own flaws. You can criticise them all you want, but if you want to love them, you'll have to accept them with their flaws. Also, considering you're more connected with the Chauhan siblings, you'll feel more protective towards them. So I get it. But perhaps wait until the end of the book for a definite conclusion and then you can decide whether you really love the character or hate them.

-• the distance between us •-

Taranya

Getting inside the car, I slam the door close and dig out a bottle of water from my purse, swigging the water down my throat. Releasing the mouth of the bottle, I twist the cap close and drop the back of my head on the seat. Placing my hand on the chest, I feel my restive heart pound hard against my ribcage.

It's anxious, unsettled and on the edge. It hated the thought of Rudra hating us.

I take deep breaths, hoping I calm down, and so does the palpating organ in my chest.

This is the first time I have experienced a fear like this. The fear of separation, the fear of meaning nothing to the person who means the world to me.

The moment Shourya told him about the mistake I'd have let happen in desperation to protect our lies- my lies, I felt as if everything was crumbling down, and nothing except him mattered. I despised the way he looked at me, like I had betrayed him in the worst way possible, like I had torn down his heart, and tossed the pieces away. I hated watching him look at me so defeated, as if I did exactly what he feared, misusing the power I've over him. And that's the last thing I'd ever do to him, to us.

Rubbing my temples, I drop my head on the dashboard and bury my face in the arms. Losing Rudra scares me. God, it felt as if I'd die out of suffocation when he confronted me. I hated hated hated the way he looked at me. I hated it!

Restlessness itches at my feet. I step out of the frontseat and walk to the front of the car, leaning on the bonnet, wrapping my arms around myself as I look up at the dark sky. The night is chilly, cold air nips at my bare arms and legs. I rub my hands together and blow warmth in them, sniffling softly.

One of the guards at the gates approach me. I stand straight, raising a brow in question. The confusion wears off as soon as he shrugs off his black blazer, offering it to me. My heart melts.

His men are just like him. Rough around the corners, but absolutely soft on the inside. "Thank you," smiling at the man, I accept the considerate gesture and put on the blazer. He nods, and walks back to his position.

It takes Rudra painstakingly long to return. I'm half tired and half numb from standing outside in the cold for so long. My toes feel frozen. Just as I'm about to ring him a call, the front door opens and he walks out. His eyes fall on me and the arched brows dip in concern. "Why are you outside? Get in the car, it's cold." Nodding, I turn around and retreat to the passenger seat, sinking into the plush, leather comfort of the musky smelling car.

Rudra opens the door opposite to me, sliding inside on the driver's seat and closing the door shut. My stomach knots up, is tugged from both the ends, and swivels anxiously, making me more uneasy than I was before.

"Wh- What took you so long?"

He fires up the engine and pulls out of the driveway. "I needed to explain a few things to him."

I hum.

He doesn't speak further.

The drive is long, and I know we're not making it home before midnight. I don't want to put on music and butcher any chance I've of making small talks with him, but I'm also worried about initiating anything and getting shut down by monosyllabic responses.

I'm overthinking, aren't I?

God, this is aggravating.

Who knew being on the causing end of an argument would mean so much stress?

Is this what he felt like whenever we had an argument and I pinned the blame on him? No wonder he used to be so daunted, walking around me on his toes until I forgave him.

I look outside the window. The moon peeks out of the floating clouds, another quiet companion on our undisturbed drive. Lowering the window, I rest my arm on the sill and lay my head there, closing my eyes to the winds whipping across my face. I feel Rudra's frequent glances at me, but he doesn't say anything, so I don't try either. He can take the time he needs and talk to me when he's ready.

I don't realise when I fall asleep.

But I'm woken up with gentle pats on my shoulder. My eyes flutter open and I sit straight, pushing the tangled mess of my uncombed hair back and rubbing a hand all over my face, covering a yawn with the back of my palm. My eyes shift to the man next to me. "We're home." He tells me and steps out. The car sways when he closes the door.

He usually carries me whenever I fall asleep during a drive. He didn't tonight. The realisation causes a kind of discomfort I hate to feel. As if I'm dependant on him for the stupidest things. Which I'm not. But it feels like it. It feels like he has taken away my right to be loved by acting so forlorn. Which is stupid, and unfair. I shouldn't be putting him on a pedestal like this.

Opening the door, I follow him inside the palace. He climbs the stairs, not slowing down for me.

It's okay.

I've a chance.

We can make this better. Things hadn't gone out of hands yet.

I head to the walk-in closet immediately, opening the doors and looking through the wide range of options of my nighties. I pick the flimsiest. It's made to be removed once you wear it. Hugging it to my chest, I sneak inside the bathroom and hang it on the hook, freshening up and removing any and all traces of make-up from my face. The task that lasts the longest is brushing my hair free of any tangles. But I manage to finish it without bursting out in tears. I'm never sleeping on the window of a car. How do the actresses in the movies even do it? Unless they're wearing wigs.

I slip into the silk nightie, put on the robe and tie the knot on my stomach. Grabbing my perfume, I put it on my pulse points, and for extra measures, even on my ankles.

This is the first time I'm making an effort to seduce him. I never had to before. Never felt the need to.

Opening the door of the bathroom, I step out, imagining him standing in front of the bed or balcony, or whatever, but the last thing I wanted was to see him working at his desk, talking to someone on his phone. Nervousness kicks in and I almost hightail back into the bathroom, but then he gets up, moves to our bed to grab his discarded blazer and turns around, stopping abruptly at the sight of me.

My toes curl. I sweat in the air conditioned room.

"I'll talk to you later." He says into the phone and hangs up. Shoving the device into his pocket, he puts the blazer back on the bed, his feet eating up the distance between us. I stumble back instinctively, yelping when I almost fall back inside the bathroom. Thankfully, he reacts quickly, reaching around my waist to close the door and my back ends up hitting the frame. Jerking my head up, I meet his eyes, my mouth drier than a desert. There's gravity in his eyes, concealed beneath those honeyed lenses, as if he were to remove them, I'd go spiralling down into the never-ending depths. "What is this, Esther? Are you trying to seduce me?"

I nod timidly.

His lips lift slightly at the ends.

I drop my gaze to his chest.

We've done it hundreds of times. Heck, I've demanded it ninety nine times that we did it. And yet, it feels different tonight. He feels different tonight. I like the power I hold over him. But tonight when he staked his claim on me, I realised I love it even more when I make him feel powerful. It's my favourite thing about him. His confidence.

The last time I had seen it, towards me, was when I was Taranya and he was my mystery man. He was nameless. I was a princess. He was the night. I was the day. He had nothing and yet I belonged to him. I belonged to him.

No.

I belong to him.

We are complete opposites, like heaven and hell, two ends of one reality. Never to come together, and if they do, it'll be either a beginning of something epic, or the destruction of everything that previously existed.

"Are you try to earn my forgiveness?"

I shake my head. "I'm reminding you."

"What?"

"I'm yours." I answer. "From the moment seven years ago when I wandered in the hallways and stumbled upon the room you were in, I was yours. When you made me count to three with you, then cheated and didn't count to three with me, I was yours. When you sneaked into my birthday party and stole my first dance, I was yours. When you saved me, twice, I was yours. When you played that sick game of hide and seek with me, I was yours. And that night in the rain when you kissed me?" I inhale a deep breath. "Oh, Rudra, how did you not realise I was yours?" I whisper, my eyes brimming with fresh tears.

His hand snakes around my nape and his lips come crashing down on mine with a force so indescribable, I feel empowered and weak all at once. I slam back into the door in reflex, closing my eyes to the insurmountable pleasure coursing through my veins, intoxicating my blood, like a venom that works eerily like an antidote. I'm impaled and I'm enlivened. I'm alive and I'm dead. I'm mine but I'm more his, more his, only his. He's no longer a part I exist with, he's a part I exist for.

We're hurried, we're frenzied, and we can't get enough of each other, so desperate to chase that feeling away that we barely breath, barely open our eyes to the world but each other, barely worry about anything else but us.

His hand slips inside my nighty, his mouth drags down my throat, open kisses showered on my naked skin, accompanied with sweet bites and nibbles. My eyes roll back in pleasure, my mouth falls open and I pant, choked cries escaping me as his hand cups me between the legs, digging slightly into the clothed wetness. I lift a leg, wrap it around his thigh and look back at him, cupping his face as he stares at me, breathing hard through his mouth, swirling his fingers around my clit over the panties.

"I love this," I tell him, bringing him down so our lips are pressed together again. He chooses that moment to push aside the panties and thrust a finger inside. "Ah, oh God!" I cry out against his mouth. He swallows the sound, adding another finger, pumping in and out of my hole while his mouth works on mine. He kisses me like he's breathing me in, and if possible, would eat me up. Then his fingers curl and hit the spot that makes me throw my head back. "Do- Don't stop!" I pant roughly, snapping my eyes open when he does the opposite. His smoldering gaze renders me immobile. "Are you punishing me?" I ask softly.

Is that why he stopped?

Is he denying me of an orgasm?

He shakes his head. "Didn't I say I'm not the kind of a man to use a woman's body to make things easy for him?" A sardonic smile replaces the poker look on his face. My breath hitches in my throat as he sinks to his knees in front of me, "There are different ways I can punish you, but denying you of pleasure is not one of them." He rolls the hem of my nighty up, nodding at me to hold it. I obey meekly. He fingers the waistband of my panty and drags it down my legs. I shimmy out of them. He tosses them to the side before throwing my right leg over his shoulder. My eyes grow wide in shock when he does the same with the other leg and then rises on his legs with me sitting on his face.

"Oh my God!" I hold his head in my hands, pasting my back to the wall, scared of the fall from so high up. But the fear disappears when his mouth descends on my core, licking me between the folds. "Ugh!" I throw my head back, locking my legs around his neck and shoving myself into his mouth. His hand comes to rest on my waist, his strength overpowering my thrusts, the other hand reaches over to squeeze my left breast. This man is insane. The pleasure he brings me is insane. And I'm even more insane to feel so turn on by all of this. He teeths my clit, his tongue prodding in and out of my hole. I cry out. I sob. I hate this. It's lewd and it's obscene and nothing about is pretty, but God I'm so addicted. I'm helpless and he reins all the controls of my body. I should be crazy to even feel safe up here, because one mistake, and I'm breaking my spine. But I don't care. His tongue fucks me so good I can't focus on anything else. "Yes! Don't-ugh-please don't stop. This feels so good, love. You're so fucking good at this." I thread my hand through his hair, my actions boldened as my hips slide back and forth, wanting to feel his tongue deeper inside me.

And then it all comes crashing down on me. The high tips me off the edge, and I fly, I fucking fly. My knees jolt, my spine archs, and I cry out his name as I come on his face. He laps me up like a starved man. Then he slowly brings me down, my knees buckle, and I've to wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up. He scoops me up in his arms, takes me to the bed and lays me there, climbing on top of me to kiss me. I taste myself on his tongue, but then he tears himself off my mouth and breathes hard.

I stare up at him transfixed. "You're an excellent woman, Taranya. You're kind, you're compassionate and you're generous." A smile flutters over my lips. "There are countless things you're better at than me. But you know one thing I'm better at than you?" I frown. "Love."

My smile drops.

"It's love." He whispers, a wry smile on his lips before he pulls off me and storms inside the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

I flinch.

He comes out ten minutes later, grabs his jacket, phone and car keys and leaves the room. I turn, burying my face in the pillow and breaking out in sobs. He knows I hate to be left alone after sex. A humourless chuckle escapes me. He was right. He didn't need to deny me of the pleasure to punish me. He denied me of himself.

I get off the bed hurriedly and my world spins. I sit back down, holding the headboard to compose myself. Eventually, I leave the bed and head inside the bathroom, turning the shower on and standing underneath it with my clothes on. The cold water splashes down on me, soaking me from head to toe, and I release a sigh. The heat in my body recedes.

Leaving the shower stall, I peel off the wet silk from my body and cover myself with a towel. In the closet, I put on a pair of baggy sweatpants and pathetically steal a shirt from his wardrobe. It swallows my arms and falls low until my thighs. I flap the sleeves, sighing exasperatedly. How big is he? I never realised our size difference until now.

Sliding into the bed, I roll to his side, pull over the comforter and turn off the lights in the room, dozing off after an hour of overthinking.

The next morning, I notice the Chairman's disappointment at the sight of me.

"You finally remembered your way back home, Bahu?"

I clear my throat. Pulling the chair, I sit down and flip over the plate. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to focus on work when things are so complicated at home. I'm taking an off today." I tell him.

"None of the Rajawat women have ever worked outside the house, Taranya. They had dedicated their lives in becoming good homemakers, wives and mothers." He states. "Just because we allowed you to work, does not mean you take wrong advantage of it."

Allowed me?

I grit my teeth. "I'm sorry. I'll do better with the opportunity given to me."

He hums.

I look around the table and spot no one. Virendra is in jail, Niharika and Rudra are at the office and I'm stuck here, with this old geezer. Fuck.

"When am I getting a great grandson?"

I choke on the soup.

The maid quickly rushes over and pours me a glass of water. I take a slow sip, thanking her softly. Putting the glass down, I release a strangled breathe.

"Sorry?" I look towards the man.

"It's been over four months since you married my grandson. And I still haven't heard any good news. I need a heir."

I swallow. "We- we haven't planned anything -"

"Planned anything? You're financially stable, and as far as I know this was a love marriage, so that obliterates the getting to know each other phase. Then what planning are you talking about? I want to hear a good news soon." He commands and beckons his secretary to take him back to his room.

I drop my head in my hands.

Pushing the breakfast aside, I retreat to my room and lock myself inside. Rudra returns in the afternoon, takes a shower, puts on new clothes and heads to the court for the last trial. I sit in front of the television for the rest of the day.

Rajgarh Prince Murder Case | High Court sentences the convict to twenty years of imprisonment. Dismisses prosecutors charges, says had no intention of killing.

Switching off the tv screen, I toss the remote away, lifting my head as the door opens and Rudra steps inside. Ignoring me, he disappears inside the closet. I find Niharika in her room and inquire about the prison Virendra is sent to. She writes down the address and gives it to me.

The next morning, I drive to the location and use my profession as a reporter to grant access. I wait behind a bullet proof glass for him. He's brought in by two cops, handcuffed and dressed in striped black and white shirt and pants.

Sprawling in the seat in front of me, he eyes me boringly.

"How are you?"

He shrugs.

I bite my lower lip. "I brought you food." I pull out of the tiffin from the bag. The lady constable takes it from me. It goes through another round of security check before she hands it over to the guard inside. I had fretted for an hour where to put the note, then used the roti to hide it.

"That's all. Excuse me," I get off the chair.

"Can you tell my daughter the truth?" I halt and face him. "She knows I'm a horrible man. And she hates me. But I don't want her to think I'm a murderer. Tell her the truth, please." He whispers.

"I- I don't know where your daughter is."

He gives me a rueful smile. "But your husband does."

Whoops again. He fucked up again.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.