KATHA

34 KATHA - TO LOVE AND WORSHIP

Surprise surprise! Yet to be proofread so please don't mind the mistakes, melons!

"A surprise ?" I raised my eyebrow.

He smiled warmly while he held me like the greatest treasure in the world, "Yes, Little gazelle. A surprise. We'll leave tomorrow morning. Okay ?"

I nodded.

With that we took the tea to the living room where Kiss was waiting for us. Ikka and Gazal were wrestling as obscenities rolled off their lips. Varna was cheering for Gazal to break Ikka's face. Kalki placed the tray of cups on the table and slumped on the sofa.

"Ikka you stinky butthole ! You want to eat tonight's dinner off the bottom of the fucking ocean ?!" Gazal lunged for him and Kiss stopped her by wrapping his arms around her from behind. She kicked and screamed for him to let her go while he held her with a bored look and no effort whatsoever. She resembled a child in his arms.

"The only person whose going to eat off the bottom of the ocean is you. You damaged the most handsome face in the world ! You're done for you little dwarf !"

The room went still.

Nobody called Gazal Mehra a dwarf and lived.

Varna was the first to look at me, he mouthed with an embarassed smile, "I'm not related to them."

Okay so Ikka was bad. But not bad enough to die so young and therefore, I stepped in.

"Alright everyone. I got tea." I announced and all of their attention fell on me. Adoration and utter admiration evident on their faces. Ikka was the most expressive. He looked about ready to cry and that Little demon Gazal, as Kalki rightfully called her, punched his jaw loose. He still smiled at me, unaffected and got up from the tangle of pillows. He almost fell under the tangles. Varna whistled, praising Gazal as they walked to me as well.

"Thank you, Bhabi. You're the best." Ikka took his cup followed by the other two. I handed Kalki and Kiss their cups before taking mine and settling beside Kalki. The evening was spent in a whirlwind of laughter and love.

Kalki had to discuss something business with Kiss so they were in his study while I took my daily walk around the house and the gardens. Our home, he'd say.

It was a vintage mansion—part fortress, part relic that refused to die. Not loud in its wealth, not eager to impress. The kind of place that had seen empires kneel and rise again. It stood far from the city’s noise, surrounded by evergreen meadows that whispered instead of screamed, its reflection sleeping quietly in the lake beside it. Grandeur without arrogance. Power without spectacle.

Inside, the house breathed in dark browns and terracotta. Wood ruled everything—carved, aged, polished by time rather than care. Wrought iron traced the bones of staircases and balconies. Black-and-white checkered marble cooled bare feet. Velvet drank the light. Kashmiri rugs muffled footsteps like they were secrets. Nothing sparkled. Nothing begged to be noticed. There were no decorations. Only lamps, chandeliers, and artefacts. Too many artefacts. Each one heavy with memory. The entire house felt less like a home and more like a museum curated by ghosts who had loved deeply and died miserably.

My home.

The library was my favorite. It was alive in a way the rest of the mansion wasn’t. Creepers wound gently around the shelves, healthy and deliberate, as if tended by someone who understood patience. Once, I’d seen butterflies there—brief, soft things in a room that otherwise felt eternal. I wasn’t surprised.

I wanted to meet the woman who kept it alive, but Kalki had told me it was better if I didn’t.

She was like Karina. No—more closed off. Rescued from a skin trade ring a year ago, she had refused to leave his side. He gave her the library. And the gardens. Not the lake. Never the lake. Another mystery for me to wrap my silly head around.

The courtyard was vast, built for another century. Manicured lawns stretched wide, bordered by rose hedges that breathed perfume into the dusk. A wrought-iron gazebo stood at its heart—old, romantic, and tired. It had seen too many evenings like this one. I sighed. The gazebo wasn't the only thing tired. So was my heart. Taking a deep breath, I picked a fully bloomed rose for Kalki and went back inside as darkness settled in.

Our room was empty. I changed without ceremony, letting the saree slip away, and fell onto the bed in my blouse and satin petticoat the way I always did—like surrender. The memories came uninvited. That night was fractured. Pain. Voices. Kalki and Rishi crying, begging me to stay awake, their hands grounding me to a body that was trying to leave.

I remembered being… content. I had done what I’d lived for. Taken revenge. That strange peace stayed with me even as agony tore through my chest, even as the bullet had done its work. Their pain had hurt worse than mine. The last time I saw Rishi, he was a thousand kilometers away—fighting for a village. I wasn’t angry. I just missed him. Endlessly. Iwas healed now. Not just stitched together, but standing again. Kalki had been there through all of it—steady, unyielding. He and this fragile little family had kept me from unraveling completely.

Still, something ached beneath the surface. Rishi’s absence hollowed me out in quiet moments. I doubted sometimes. Wondered if Kalki hid things from me. But the headlines existed. The Ganga Village Dam Case. Rishi, worshipped like a god for his brilliance. So I waited.
Healing, I learned, could still hurt.

Staring into the dark, I felt Kalki before I heard him. My heart reacted first—thunderous, traitorous. His presence wrapped around me, heavy and familiar, like gravity reclaiming its claim. I felt his gaze move over my skin. The bed dipped. His mouth traced my back slowly, reverently, like he was reminding me I was alive. Heat followed every touch. My breath stuttered.

He was a sanctuary. With him, I could breathe without breaking. In his arms, I wasn’t strong or ruthless or sharp—I was simply real. Alive. Wanted. I turned into him, claimed his lips, felt his quiet groan resonate through me. Warmth. Solidity. Him. We hadn’t crossed this line since my surgery, and the wanting had built into something unbearable. In his arms, I was unarmored. He was my god—not divine, but steadfast. The one who had pulled me through the storm and anchored me to shore. Gratitude swelled in my chest until it hurt.

“Little gazelle,” he murmured, voice low, grounding. “You sure?”

I answered without hesitation. With truth. With everything I was. When he finally closed the distance between us, it wasn’t gentle—but it was worship. Devotion wrapped in hunger. Madness edged with love. And as the world narrowed to breath and heartbeat, to heat and trust, I let myself disappear into him—whole, broken, and finally home.

"Oh Goddess..." He pressed down and starting rolling his hips into me as he kissed... No... Feasted on my neck with the rigour of a man in love and madness of a man starved.

"Kalki, please..." I managed to plead through the jolts of pleasure surging through me and settling between my legs. Liquid heat mixed with something so wanton... So lustful... It was terrifying. I was aching for more as I drank from every touch of his, devoured that fire, and started becoming one with him.

"You sure, Little gazelle ? You want me, hmm ?" He spoke against my skin, his phantom fingers slowly unhooking my blouse. I only had enough time to gasp and lift my head to him wrapping his lips around an aching nipple. My head hit the pillows again and I groaned, both in pleasure and need for more. A whimper escaped my throat when he bit down on it. Hard.

"I asked you a question, baby." His voice was evil as he sucked and soothed the ache while kneading the other.

"Yes ! I want you... God.... I want you so bad, Kalki. Please, love..."

"Hmm." He groaned his approval as he moved further down. And down.

He stopped just above the aching bundle of nerves where I wanted him the most. "Say you're mine. Say you belong to me. Say this body is mine."

"You. I'm yours and I belong to you. This body, my heart, everything I am... Is yours. My pain, pleasure, needs and wants, my thoughts, my dreams... All yours. You are the very thread that makes up my world. I love you, Kalki. I love you more than words can ever express. I love you so much, it hurts me. I love you more than I'd loved the satisfaction of taking my revenge. Sometimes I hate you for it because that's what I've been living for. But I can't help it."

And with that his mouth was on me. Unyielding and unforgiving.