Ishq hua (Duet 1)

Chapter 28: Her protector

Aira:

I couldn't get the blood off my hands.

The scent of it. The weight of it. Like it had seeped into my skin, staining me from the inside out.

The man's lifeless eyes flashed behind my eyelids every time I blinked. The deafening crack of the gunshot. The helpless gasp.

My fault.

My chest tightened. Breathing felt impossible. Every thought twisted and turned, tightening the noose.

I should've stayed in my room, forced myself to face it. But I couldn't. My skin burned with the memory of it, like the blood had soaked through my very bones.

The choice.

My choice.

I wanted to tear it off.

And when I knocked on his door, I knew exactly what I was doing.

Arsh was sitting on his bed. His shirt hung loose, half unbuttoned like he'd just discarded the pretense of civility. There was nothing soft about him. Nothing gentle.

And yet his eyes held me captive - dark, unreadable, cold.

"Hm?"

"I can't sleep," I said, the words scraping out of me like gravel.

His lips barely curled into something between amusement and disdain. "And?"

I hated him.

But right now, I hated myself more.

"I hate myself," I whispered. My voice shook, but I didn't look away.

"So?" He said it like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.

The weight of it crushed me.

"I hate myself more than I hate you."

Something flickered in his eyes. Curiosity? Annoyance? Maybe even satisfaction. It didn't matter.

"And what do you want me to do about that?"

I stepped closer, my hands trembling. Every breath I took felt like swallowing glass. The ache in my chest twisted tighter, like a noose that refused to loosen.

"Make me hate you instead," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "So I can overlook my imperfections."

His gaze sharpened.

My heart pounded. I wasn't sure if it was from fear, anger, or the unbearable ache tightening in my stomach.

I didn't flinch when he reached for me. His fingers curled around my jaw, his grip bruising. He forced me to look at him, those eyes burning into mine, searching.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes." My nails dug into my palms.

That was all it took.

He grabbed me - rough, unforgiving - his fingers curling into my waist, pulling me flush against him. The door slammed behind me. The air thickened. His mouth was on mine before I could take another breath, claiming and devouring.

My hands fisted against his chest, pushing, pulling - I didn't know which. His other hand tangled in my hair, tugging sharply as he angled my face to his liking. My body arched into him, not because I wanted comfort, but because I wanted to disappear.

His teeth grazed my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. I gasped, but he swallowed the sound. His hands roamed lower, nails biting into my hips as he shoved me back against the wall.