"You have to hate me, Akash, for what I've done to you." The words were a ragged, barely audible whisper, a tear finally escaping my eye and tracing a hot path down my cheek. Overwhelmed by the sheer weight of my shame, I wrenched my face away, unable to bear the sight of him. ​A feather-light touch found my chin. It was him. He didn't force me, but with agonizing tenderness, he guided my face back to his, his thumb lingering, an anchor against the tremor in my jaw. He moved closer, the final distance dissolving until our lips were scarcely an inch apart. Our breaths, quick and shallow with emotion, mingled and danced in the charged air; our noses were nearly touching. ​His voice, a low, intense rumble that vibrated through me, seemed to absorb all the chaos of the room. He wasn't merely tracing my jaw-he was trying to gently erase the mark of my guilt with his warmth. ​"You can never hate someone you love, Paro," he whispered, his eyes, dark and infinitely deep, holding mine captive. "And I need you to understand that nothing you have done-nothing-is stronger than the way I love you."

Book 2 of Arranged series She stood trembling, voice barely existing as she whispered, "Every inch of my body is full of scars, Arnav. Raw pain... misery. I'm already stained. My innocence and sanity were taken from me long ago." The closeness between them made sure her broken words reached him. Arnav went still. Emotion tore across his face-rage at her suffering, grief for the girl she once was, and a love so consuming it trembled through him. He stepped closer until his body pressed fully against hers. Their faces hovered inches apart, their breaths mingling in the small, shaking space between them. "What if I told you," he whispered, voice thick, "that I'm in love with every one of those scars, butterfly? That your pain wounds me deeper than a hundred bullets? That your 'stains' only prove how fiercely you survived-like the moon, scarred but breathtaking." He leaned in, breath brushing her lips. "What if I told you you're as pure as Maa Ganga to me?" A tear slipped down her cheek. "I will disgust you eventually." He let out a soft, pained chuckle. With a fingertip beneath her chin, he lifted her face gently. "Eyes on me, butterfly." It wasn't an order-it was devotion. "Disgust?" His voice broke slightly. "Do you even understand what you are to me?" He moved closer, caging her with his warmth, grounding her shaking form. "Let me show you," he whispered, promise dark and tender. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed. His voice sharpened, soft steel. "Dare you close your eyes." She opened them instantly. Their noses brushed-fleeting, electric. "Watch me worship you," he breathed. "Watch me devour you like the elixir you are. Watch me treasure you like the rarest artifact in existence." His gaze dipped to her lips. "May I?" She nodded, trembling. He didn't move. "Words, sunshine." "Yes," she breathed. A slow, dark smirk pulled at his lips-relief, hunger, devotion all woven into one expression. "Now see what you mean to me." Then Arnav kissed her.

"Why don't you understand, Mr. Agnihothri?" The words were torn from my throat, raw and desperate. "I am not the one who is made for love. Don't try to heal me, Shiv. I'm telling you, you will only break yourself in that process," I screamed, the sound catching and splintering with a deep, shaky breath. ​But the expected anger, the frustrated retreat, never came. Instead, his gaze-intense, impossibly tender-met mine, and a small, maddeningly serene smile touched the corner of his lips. It was a silent challenge, a soft denial that made the fragile control I held on my sanity begin to crumble. ​"Let's stop this here, please," I whispered, the desperate plea barely audible, the fight draining from me. "You deserve someone whole, someone pure, not a shattered, half-broken glass doll like me." The confession was an admission of defeat, and a single, traitorous tear-hot and heavy-escaped the dam of my composure, tracing a path down my cheek. ​Something fractured in his placid facade. The smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, fierce darkness. He shut his eyes, his jaw clenching as he inhaled a deep, steadying breath, a visible battle raging to master a sudden, barely contained fury. Then, in a single, predatory movement, he erased the space between us. ​He captured my shoulders, his grip not cruel, but intensely demanding, and pushed me firmly back against the cool, unforgiving drywall. The sudden pressure was intoxicating, trapping me between the solid surface and his unyielding body. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his intent palpable, until his mouth was almost touching my ear. ​"Saanvi," his voice was a low, resonant rumble, a silken promise laced with a dangerous possessiveness, "Even the breath I take when you are near me is elixir (Amrit) for my soul." His lips brushed my skin as he spoke the last word, the sheer intimacy of the contact sending a wildfire racing through my veins and igniting my heart into an uncontrollable inferno. ​