A/N: Here it is then: Part 3 for your reading pleasure. The action kicks off from the end of part 1. I've tried to incorporate your feedback into this one. So do let me know if it works. 😃
Enjoy!
Part - III
He was going to put the fear of all the elements, Bholenath, and whatever else she held sacred into her. How dare she run away! How dare she even contemplate it! And that too after he had expressly forbidden her to step out of the
haveli. How could she have risked, endangered...everything? After he was done with her...
Rudra's mind snarled. The blaze of his ire smothered before it could take hold.
What was she doing?
There it was again. Her tongue sneaking out to lave the pad of her bottom lip...ever so slowly. Her eyelashes flickered over half-closed eyes. After a moment she swallowed. Rudra, narrowed eyes tracking every nuance, watched her lips part and her eyelids drift down, and felt his own throat dry up, his body catch fire. He tried to swallow, but the muscles in his throat had tightened, like they had all over his body. It was unbearable, this raging thirst that begged to be slaked.
Without conscious thought, Rudra's head descended towards the succulent glaze of her mouth. This close, her own special fragrance rose up to wash over him, to madden him, to draw him in. His face was just a breath away when her eyelids lifted.
The alarm flaring through her wide-open eyes jerked him out of the trance and back into the present. Before he could so much as utter a denial or a reassurance, she had cried out - a thin high sound that pierced the night.
He moved like lightning to cut it off. His mouth swallowed the rest of her cries, all her protests, her outrage, her anger, her fear, her pain... And still he drank, his lips no longer ruthless or forceful, but tender now, moving gently over hers, in moist fractions, in succour to her distress, in salutation to her innocence, in homage to her spirit, in thrall to his growing desire for more of her taste. He sipped at the corners of her mouth, suckled her plump lower lip, traced the cupid's bow of the upper one, sampled the sensitive inner flesh of both, before his lips closed around her tongue to draw it gently into his mouth. And when he let go she took over without a beat, stroking tentatively along his mouth, then, emboldened by his response, deepening the kiss, nipping at the softness of his lips in her hurry to taste him, drinking him in with such ardency that he groaned at the slug of desire.
"Kaun hai? Bahar nikal!"
("Who's there? Come out!")
He pushed her away, panting, struggling to reclaim sanity. She lay dazed, her swollen lips parted, her breasts, now uncovered by her veil, heaving as she dragged in air.
"Bahar nikal!"
("Come out!")
The shout, louder than the one before, was like a bucket of cold water over his head. Finally, the fog lifted. Adrenaline flooded through him as he took stock. He was a step away from botching it up. Of all the darned, perverse luck! Why now, when he'd almost...whisked her away. Almost. He crawled up the slope and scouted the approach. He didn't have much time.
He looked back to see if she'd comply, and read his answer in her wild eyes and taut face.
In two quick strides he was beside her, and before she could so much as utter a word to damn him, he'd dragged her veil down off her shoulder, the backs of his knuckles brushing against a beaded nipple.
She flinched. He stifled her gasp with her own dupatta twisted around her face and fastened behind her head. The hands she raised to ward him off, to undo the gag, he also bound with the same dupatta, and then wound the free end around her ankles to completely hog-tie her into immobility. And disregarding the glitter in her eyes, the shaking of her head, the rebellion of her body as she launched herself against him, he picked her up and tucked her into the darkest dip at the bottom of the slope before bounding up to meet the guards.
"Rukk! Hilna mat. Haath oopar!"
("Stop! Don't move! Hands up!")
They advanced on him rifles drawn.
He waited, face impassive, arms clasped behind his head, for the questions.
"Kaun hai tu? Yahaan kya kar raha hai?
("Who are you? What are you doing here?")
The search-light was blinding. But he did not blink. Just advanced casually away from the crest and towards them - he couldn't take the risk of the light falling on Paro.
"Major Rudra Pratap Ranawat, BSD. Check kar lo."
("Major Rudra Pratap Ranawat, BSD. You can check.")
His voice was a little louder than the night demanded to assert his authority, to mask any noise that she might make. He nodded towards his pocket. One sentry advanced cautiously and did as he was told, palmed the badge, checked his ID. Then promptly saluted him.
He acknowledged with a nod. Then led them back to their post, keeping up a spiel about the rise in intruders from across the border, about the need for more vigilance, and the ad hoc inspections that he was now carrying out across this stretch of the border of which they were going to see much more in the foreseeable future. If they didn't tighten-up their surveillance, they'd pay bigtime, he promised them. He didn't let them edge a word into his speech; didn't give them time to think or respond other than with apologies as they fell over themselves to reassure him that they were doing their job, keeping the intruders and the gunrunners and all those other traitors out.
He radioed Aman, who was listening for his signal, and waited till he arrived to keep the guards occupied while he made his way back to Paro.
She was lying in the same position that he'd left her. At his approach, her eyes, diamond-bright, trained in on his.
He returned her gaze with eyes that were blank of all emotion, wiped clean of all but purpose, as he advanced towards her. Then hunkered down beside her to slide her skirt up her shapely calves as he set about freeing her ankles, and ignoring her futile struggles, turned his attention to the knots at her wrists, which he dealt with just as briskly, impersonally; leaving only the gag in place.
She made an ineffectual grab for her dupatta; tried to tear down her gag. He didn't wait to find out if she'd managed to snag her dupatta and drape it over her chest, or dismantled the gag; but slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, and, her thighs restrained and arm secured, he started the long trudge back to his bike.
Edited by tvbug2011 - 10 years ago
Anupamaa
Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon
