Enchanting Hearts

🪷 Chapter 8 🪷

Ayansh ~

"She is annoying" Akash blurted out.

I looked at the retreating figure of Agrimma while she walked towards Trisha, "What's that little thing going on between you and her?"

Akash laughed and swirled the glass in his hand forming a little tornado inside the wine glass. "I just couldn't stand the sight of her."

"Because she roasted the hell out of you in front of everyone" I sipped my drink.

"Yes." He changed his line, "I respect women that is why I didn't say anything in return"

I very much knew that he didn't have any comebacks but I didn't want to extend this conversation anymore. My mood was already f**ked up after that little incident that happened inside her room. Everyone has asked about the bandage a million times, and I kept on lying that my hand got stuck between the door and the wall, which caused this wound. I couldn't form any better lie when the first person asked me about it and now I have to tell everybody the same story or else I would be in trouble.

I didn't know what got into me to do such a thing. Why would I harm myself to write my name on her hands? Why was I so taken aback when she said that she didn't get my name written on her hands? Why did I feel the need to claim her? I didn't have an answer to any of those questions, or maybe I had, but I was not ready to accept it. She dressed my wound but what did she feel at that moment? She must have taken me for a psychopath.

I came out of my thoughts when the music around me got louder and the sound of screams became clearer. The swaying hips, moving hands and dancing legs covered the whole floor. The last party before she becomes mine and I win the sweet little game we have been playing.

Our parents have already slept while our cousins are enjoying the cocktail party to celebrate my last night of freedom before I get trapped in a marriage. A knot that could never be opened and a deal that could never be broken.

Trisha came towards me, her hands red with the mehendi and the faint marks of my bloodstain still glowed on her wrist. Her intoxicated breath reached my nostrils, she leaned on the bar top beside me, her hips poking out, and her dress rode up her thighs giving a clear view of her ass. I stood behind her hiding the view from others' eyes because I don't like sharing things that are mine.

She ordered a martini and turned around, coming face-to-face with me. Her warm body collided with my cold one; her cheeks were red from the intoxication, which matched the colour of her dress, and the little glitter on her eyelids shined under the soft light of the bar. She looked majestic. Her plumped glossy lips and the red pointy heels all drove me crazy. Even after wearing heels, she was struggling to reach my shoulder. This was the first time in the whole party that I got a view of her; most of the time, she was busy with her cousins.

The bartender said, "Ma'am here is your Martini"

She picked up the glass with her left hand while maintaining eye contact with me. Her lips grazed the glass ever so slightly and then she took a small sip. Her throat bobbled in a motion and a pink tint flowed through her whole face. She kept the glass on the bar top behind us and her hand reached for my nape. The sudden warmth sent a shiver down my spine. The air thickened around us, I took a step forward and caged her between my arms and the bar. Her gaze followed my lips, then again my eyes. Our lips collided with each breath we took. My eyes then were directed at her lean figure, her chest moved up and down with every broken breath she took. Her small dress exposed most of the skin, and those little straps worked hard over her shoulder to support the dress.

Her hands ruffled my hair and then she moved them to my jaw. She directed my mouth towards her, and I instantly created some distance between us and walked away from her. It was hard to control myself in front of her, she made me do things that I never expected from me. I didn't want to do something that we might regret later; she was drunk, but I was not. I didn't want to take advantage of her drunk state even though her body, her dress, her makeup, her hair, her heels, and every inch of her body was eager for me to ruin them in the worst possible way. The lust took over her body; the permission she gave me was because of lust and not due to love, and I didn't want to do anything because of lust until and unless there were emotions attached to it.