Krishnapriya Devashree

108. In the Belly of the Beast

A/n: TRIGGER WARNING for attempted sexual assault and degrading crude language.

*****

He was huge.

Narakasur.

Not just tall but broad, taking up the entire doorway. The torchlight seemed to flinch away from him. His armor was black and ornate, but filthy, spattered with old bloodstains that had never been cleaned. His bare arms were corded with muscle and covered in raised black brands that looked like they'd been burned in with hot iron and had festered. They still looked wet somehow, glistening.

His hair hung in greasy, matted tangles past his shoulders. His face was handsome in structure....strong jaw, sharp features, but his skin was wrong. Mottled with old burns and scars, flushed red in places like he was perpetually drunk or feverish. His lips were thick and wet.

But his eyes.

They were gold but fevered, bloodshot at the edges. Pupils blown wide. The eyes of someone who'd indulged in every vice, every cruelty, until normal pleasures meant nothing anymore. They moved constantly, never focusing, always hunting.

When they landed on the cowering women, he smiled. A very creepy smile. His tongue slid across his lower lip constantly.

Then his gaze found Devashree.

He froze mid-step. His eyes went wide, then narrowed to slits. His mouth fell open slightly and she could see his yellowed teeth, the dark tongue behind them. He stared at her like a starving man who'd just found a feast.

"Fuck me," he breathed. His voice was rough, thick. "Look at you."

Heat flared in Devashree's chest. The divine spark responding to the wrongness of him, to the rot he carried. But she kept her face carefully neutral, assessing.

She'd heard the women's stories. Seen their broken spirits. This wasn't someone who'd respond to flowery diplomatic speeches or appeals to honor. But maybe—just maybe—there was an angle here. A way to help them.

He moved toward her and the way he walked changed, became almost predatory, rolling his hips slightly with each step. As he got closer, the smell became overwhelming. Wine, yes, but stale. Sweat that had gone rancid.

"Where... where in the nine pits did you come from?" he rasped.

Devashree's jaw clenched. Her nails bit into her palms. "I stumbled into your territory," she said, keeping her voice level. Not subservient, but not challenging either. Just stating facts. 

She wasn't going to grovel. But she could be practical. Strategic.

He started circling her slowly, and she could feel his eyes crawling over every inch of her body. His breathing had gotten heavier.

"You're not from the villages," he said, more to himself than to her. "Too fine for that. Too clean."

"I'm the queen of Dwarka." She watched him circle, tracking his movements. "My people will be looking for me."

Let him know there would be consequences.

That made him pause. Just for a second. Then his smile widened. "Well. That makes you quite valuable, doesn't it?"

Devashree's jaw tightened slightly but she kept her expression calm. "It means people will come looking. An army, probably."

She wasn't trying to intimidate him....she could already tell he was too arrogant for that. But maybe self-preservation would work where decency wouldn't.

"Let them come," he said, resuming his circling. "This fortress has stood against armies before. And by the time they find it..." He stopped in front of her, leaning in close. "Well. By then it won't matter, will it?"