FF: Desert Rose (Chapter 7, Pg 35) 11/07 - Page 12

Originally posted by: gurl-enchanted

Ahhh, Yash and Aarti., Hardly saw that show. Punar Vivah, right? I saw PV 2 more. Loved Ejaz!

What do you mean the forum is against that?? 😕 I have put up two 18+ FFs here.

Hey! I thought u were going to update today!

Hey, guys! Sorry for the delay. As you can see, this chapter is longer than the others and took some time to write and edit.

Some of you had a doubt regarding the previous chapter. Let me make it clear here -

The Prologue was a preview of later chapters, not the starting of the story. Chapter One is where the story is actually starting, which is why I have written "A MONTH EARLIER" before starting it. So, in the last chapter, Jalal is still a Prince. He is a Shahenshah in the Prologue because that is the future or present, whichever way you look at it.

Hope that cleared your doubts. Tell me if there are any more queries.

Also, your comments are as motivating and amazing as always! Super thrilled to have such dedicated readers! Keep em coming!

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CHAPTER THREE

The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.. I can resist everything but temptation.

- Oscar Wilde

Jodha stood gaping at the entrance to the larder, her stomach growling in protest at her tardiness in sampling the goods. From the front, the hut had looked tiny and remote, though sturdy. She had thanked her Goddess multiple times for Her benevolence in blessing her with an abandoned shelter, and a place to keep the horse she had taken from the men she had killed. The makeshift stable had even had all the provisions needed to satiate its hunger, leaving her one less thing to worry about.

Now looking at the provisions lined up high till the ceiling and covering every available space in the room, she was forced to comprehend that she had been hasty in the conclusion that the place was forsaken. The larder, which by rights should have been insignificant, extended into a rather large space for a small hut. It probably was a lot bigger from the back, which was covered with foliage and surrounded by huge trees weaving closely together. Was the move to build the place in this clearing deliberate? It provided an idle cover at the back, while seeming completely unassuming from the front. And how did someone who could just afford a hut have the stock that could sustain a small army for days?

She shifted uneasily, her hurt foot shooting a sharp pain through her at the movement. She was hungry, tired and hurt. It would rain any moment and she had no way of leaving this forest without a map or a guide. She didn't want to run into any more of the soldiers her father had in his employ. They were cutthroats, all of them, without the integrity of a soldier serving a Kingdom. She was fortunate to run into the two men liable to get distracted by an amateur ploy.. She might not be fortunate twice. She had to stay.

If the dweller of this hut returned, she would have to be prepared to grovel, cajole and plead her way. People were naturally suspicious of foreign elements, especially when they lived in a wilderness. Maybe she could offer to cook and clean for them. Exercise their horses. She would do anything but walk out where the lives of everyone she held dear would be at risk if she was captured. The stakes were too high! She could not afford to lose now.

A clap of thunder rumbled, drowning out the sound of her stomach doing its own share of rumbling. She had to eat. Once her stomach was full, she would look at her injury and determine the way to fix it. It didn't feel like anything was broken. She was sure she would be screaming, if it had. She had always had a low tolerance for physical pain. A truth she had come to realize during her training at Amer. And if the owner was offended at her making use of their rations, she would swipe her ring for the privilege. It would pay for more than a year's stay at this place at even the most exorbitant rate!

She stared at the twinkling jewel on the middle finger of her right hand. The ring was a priceless piece in pure gold with a large diamond at the centre, gifted to her by her father for her "good conduct" during her training. For all intents and purposes, it was useless to her. A mark of all the guilt, the sleepless nights, the crushing misery.. She suddenly felt a violent urge to rip it off her finger and throw it as far as it would go. It was a mark of all that she had lost and more.

Shaking her head to rid herself of these thoughts, she limped towards a bag of rice. She could not afford to give in to her rages now. The measures used to subdue her in the past had not succeeded in breaking her then. They certainly would not succeed now.

Removing the dagger from her waist, she snipped open the bag. Maybe if she prepared a good meal for two, the owner would feel obliged to let her stay. Her brow furrowed as she wondered again at the contrast between the dwelling and the provisions. Who was he or she that they could live in this luxury in the middle of the woods? These grains were the fine ones used by the high officials in the Empire - because they were the only ones who could really meet its price. In places like Rajputana, they were served only to the Kings.

Had she misjudged coming here? What other choice did she even have? If the owner was a person to be avoided, she hoped that she would be able to take them down as easily as she had those men today.

She could only hope.

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Finishing the last remnants of her simple meal of rice, stew and vegetables, Jodha hobbled around the hut. She washed her bowl and silver spoon, cleaned the cooking area, dusted the already spotless hut and set another bowl and spoon on the wooden table near the window. She hoped the sight of hot food would mollify whoever came through the door.

'Not if they come for you, Jodha,' her subconscious made an unwelcome appearance. Sometimes she wondered if it was customary to have exasperating conversations with oneself or she was slowly going insane.

'Probably the latter,' it snickered at her. The years of loneliness had to show somewhere. She only wished she had not had the misfortune to be saddled with such an aggravating inner voice.

With a groan, she sat down on one of the chairs and propped her foot up on its adjacent companion at the table. There was nothing else to do here anymore. The hut had been surprisingly clean and all she had had to wash were the utensils she had used herself. Either the owner had some kind of an obsession with sanitation.. or the hut had been recently built.

'Oh, the mysteries of the earth. How you distress me!' recited the voice in her head, editing the lines from a tragedy she had once witnessed during a celebration in Amer. It had been poorly written and executed, based on portraying the common folk as bumbling insatiable fools with a flair for dramatizing their pitiful conditions. The King was, naturally, the long-suffering messiah of such poor souls.

Scowling now, she turned her attention to her foot. Her people were brave and honest folk who were barely surviving in the harsh conditions of Rajputana. They were surrounded by lascivious, greedy, immoral men who considered themselves superior and left their subjects to fend for themselves. Food was scarce, taxes were high, punishments were swift. There was no one to fight for them and they were too weak, too broken to fight for themselves. The Empire did not concern itself with the wellbeing of the people under the jurisdiction of the tyrants they had put in charge. As long as the dues were paid, their armies were ready to serve them and the rajput Kings were pandering to their sovereign, it was adequate for them.

The foot had swelled considerably since her flight on the black steed, she noted, trying to redirect her thoughts again. She could not let the thoughts of her people weaken her now.

She pondered over the eventful morning she had had instead. She had dragged the bodies of the men to a bush, stripping the clothes off Shyam with her eyes half closed. Removing her lehenga, she had tied her clothes into a bundle made with Hari's tunic, and put on the offensive smelling clothing of Shyam. She desperately needed a bath and her own clothes, but she didn't think she had the power to do anything anymore.

She half heartedly pressed the foot, hissing at the pain. Maybe she should wait before trying to treat it. The owner might soften at the sight of her injury and she might be allowed to sleep away the afternoon without a barrage of questions to answer.

On the other hand, if the owner saw the gun tucked into the belt of her blue uniform, she wouldn't live to see another day. Guns were not carried by anyone but soldiers. And the soldiers were always male. She would be perceived as a threat by virtue of her clothing alone, if not an outright traitor, and she did not want her life brought to a premature end by a broken ankle and disjointed thoughts.

The rain started falling as she willed herself to get up again, the patter of the drops on the roof beating steadily and then increasing in intensity. She limped towards the shelf tucked near the window, putting out a hand to grab the blue bundle with her red lehenga wrapped safely. She would rather appear to be a helpless woman in a red lehenga inviting ravishment than a traitor in a blue uniform with a reward from the Empire awaiting her killer.

She glanced towards the window, clutching her bundle. And then could not look away.

A man sat on a chestnut coloured stallion, clad entirely in black. He was like a vision, a nightmare come to life. He was a figure the devil would have been proud to assume. The face reflecting impotent rage, impossibly broad shoulders, the body of a man of battle. Rain beat down on him, but his form was deathly still, his piercing gaze fixed upon her. The stature of nobility, the watchful eyes of a predator. One wrong move and he would unleash his fury on the one foolish enough to lock eyes with him. No, maybe he hadn't seen her looking at him. It was too dark in the hut to see her. The window. He was staring ominously at the window. Had he seen something? Had he seen a glimpse of her?

She saw him throw a black coat to the muddy ground, cracking his knuckles and twisting his head to the side. All the while, his eyes held the promise of pain.. and death.

Fear laced through her, paralyzing her mind temporarily. The bundle dropped from her hands. She took a step back, clutching a hand to her erratically beating heart, her eyes still locked on him. Had her father hired him to find her? Did she have time to run?

No, she didn't, he seemed to be saying to her. He got down from the stallion, wearing a smile that chilled her to the bone. She could never run away from him. She could never hide.

She could only surrender.

The flash of steel in the rain.

Raising her head, she drew the dagger from her waist, a battle cry surging in her blood. If he was a predator, she was certainly not prey. This was a battle of dominion she would not yield to him. She was too proud to go down without a fight.

The amber eyes of a fiery huntress collided with the dark depths of a ferocious predator.

She would never surrender.

Jodha turned towards the doorway, poised to attack. The door slammed open, making her recoil inspite of herself. A looming figure walked boldly into the confines of the hut, making it feel smaller than it was. He had the gait of a man who feared nothing. His eyes swiftly took inventory of his surroundings and stopped on her standing by the window, a dagger raised like an avenging angel. The point of his sword was held casually at his side, seemingly unconcerned with her offensive stance.

It was a ruse. Meant to entrap the gullible into a false sense of complacency. Jodha was neither gullible, nor complacent. She knew she was dealing with a man whose skill far surpassed her own. If he got anywhere near her, a blow from those hands alone could very well knock her insensible. Add to that a hurt ankle and her dagger against his sword, and you might as well start digging her grave already.

The man cast a mocking gaze over her build, his eyes taking a slow inventory of her slight frame clad in the uniform. With her hair tucked out of sight to give credence to her disguise and breasts bound tightly with a strip of cloth, she probably looked like a mere inconvenience than a threat. He, on the other hand, was built like a bull with the lightness of a jungle cat in his movements. It was a lethal combination, as it meant that he could match her swiftness and use his strength to her detriment at the same time. The only hope she had of survival was to get her hands on his sword. Her skill with it was unparalleled and having it with her might tilt the odds in her favour.

"You wish to run weeping yet, boy?"

The deep husky voice threw her off guard. It was like velvet over steel, a potent blend of notes designed to entice. Not that he meant to entice, she thought, trying to shake herself out of her inconvenient musings. He thought she was a boy! She nearly laughed. Her face must be caked with dirt for him to make this conclusion. She had slathered some of it on to add to her disguise of a soldier. The other soldiers wouldn't have paid heed to the sight of one of their own riding a black horse through the woods. At the time, she had had no way of knowing if her deception had worked. But apparently, she was unrecognizable now.

"Cat got your tongue?" he growled, when she made no sign of replying. Not enticing now. Menacing.

He lifted the sword and lowered it to his left hand, running the tip of his finger lazily over the sharp edge. Blood trickled down his hand, making her grip on her dagger loosen. She caught it just in time, her eyes wide as she stared at the ominous glimmer in those black eyes. Black as sin.

"You know, I have never killed a boy," he began conversationally, carelessly flicking a few drops of blood to the side. She flinched. She wasn't squeamish about the sight of blood but he was scaring her with his slow deliberate actions. She knew impulsiveness, brutality, reckless killings.. This strange coldness chilled her to the core. "I could make your death an agony or I could make it so fast, it would feel like going to sleep. Which would it be, boy?"

Now he was implying she was going to die anyway. It was a tactic to intimidate her, she was certain of it. Why would he want to kill her anyway? But he could be wicked enough to go ahead with it too. What if he was after the ones in a uniform? There was a catch to this entire charade. She just had to wait for him to get around to revealing it.

He moved so fast, she had no way of anticipating an attack. He slammed her to the wall, wedging his knee between her legs to prevent her from kicking him. All the breath wooshed out of her at the impact, her ankle shooting a current of pain through her. She refused to let a cry escape her lips. His hand pinned hers holding the dagger to the side, putting pressure on her wrist. Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes unbidden. It was agony all over. The point of a sword was held to her neck, the pressure enough to threaten, but not enough to cut.

"Drop it," he warned her, increasing the pressure on her wrist slightly. Her hand opened reflexively, the dagger slipping out to clatter to the floor with a dull thud. The pressure eased completely. His fingers closed around her wrist lightly - an unbreakable grip, but not painful.

"Wise choice," he told her, his face inches from hers. She willed herself not to break her gaze from his. If dying was the only alternative left to her, she would do so proudly. Her heart constricted at the thought of failing her people, but this was a small victory for them too. Standing strong even in the face of death.. Maybe they would hear about her, and stir themselves up enough to make a difference to their lives.

Or maybe it would give them the incentive to curl up and die,' her mind plagued her. They would know there is no more hope.'

"Now..You will answer my questions," his warm breath washed over her, breaking her despondent thoughts. Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His shoulder length hair was plastered to his face in wet curls. His features were sharp and aristocratic - bronzed skin slick with droplets of rain, strong throat, dark eyes, a straight nose, lips with just enough fullness in them to make them sensual.. He was a piece of art, carved by a sculptor determined to capture raw male beauty at its finest. How strange to have her life brought to an end by such an ethereal being. "You do not talk much, but I know you can speak."

She stared mutely up at him, aware of her own clothing soaking up the wetness off his. The sound of the rain increased further in intensity, now hammering on the roof. His head whipped to the side to glance out the window, a look of displeasure crossing his features at the flooded clearing. The action flicked droplets of water on her face, making her start. His gaze flicked back to her.

"You hide behind layers of mud, wearing the mark of rebellion," he whispered softly, watching the trail of a droplet joining the tracks her tears had left on her cheek. "You have the horse of the scum of the earth ensconced in my stable. You would like me to think of you as one of them. But you have the stance of a warrior, and the innocence of a novice. You have the look of a scared cat but glare like a fierce lioness.. Tell me, woman. Who are you?"

To be continued..

Reserved
Unres
wowww!!!!! It was brilliant.. So finally Ja Jo meet.. So gripping! Poor Jo!
Nothing can be hidden from Jalal's eyes! He finally knows that she is a woman not a boy 😆
The last line was brilliantly written.. Ur ff seems more like a novel to Me. I suggest you to write one! Trust me girl, you will get good response..

Hahaha thankx for posting the clarification 😆
Yippe I'm the first one to post!


P.S do continue to post Chapters this size.

Originally posted by: Rozy77

I just read the prologue

awesome start hun ⭐️⭐️

I was so excited seeing that its you, coz I remember how amazing ur previous story was...😃❤️

il catch up with chap 1 & 2 later tonight..😊

Oh, I think I missed replying to you. Thanks so much, dear. Hope you have read all the chapters and can tell me your views 😃

Originally posted by: shahbhavini

Don't worry Tu isko likh pehle... I am waiting... Jaldi Jaldi Every day update de😆

Haha, see I wrote a long one this time 😛

Originally posted by: Kesha_H.

yea it was punar vivah the 1st pv was better tho

someone had actually put an 18+ part in their FF and had to tke it down I think it was due to the mods I can't rmbr 😕

Sad.. See, you can always put an external link to some other site hosting your 18+ FF. Thats what I did for my last one. Try DropBox.

Originally posted by: ..Tahniat..

Hey! I thought u were going to update today!

Sorry babe. This one had more length 😛

Originally posted by: agun

waiting waiting waiting...

Wow, dedication! I updated. Temme your views 😃

awe awe awe ... i am so much enchanted with this premire rencontre of jo & ja ... i mean i literally had butterflies in my stomach while reading this chapter ... gosh ... i am just waiting when both will melt in each other's arms ... aaahhh !!! it would be just out of the world feeling in my body to read ur SR's ...