Page 45 of One Hellish Desire

“I came here to tell you that… Just because I broke my engagement with Shyam doesn't mean I'm available for anyone else,” she declares defiantly.

Her words sting my ego. As she turns to leave, I haul her back against me, my arm snaking around her waist, pressing her back to my chest.

“Keep that thought to yourself, Cub,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. I feel her shiver at our closeness. “Because know what? I'm not just anyone else. I'm Vikram Singh Grover, and your statement doesn't apply to me.”

I know I've pissed her off, and she’s ready to fight me. She’s more than welcome to try. Maahi grabs a handful of color from the plate on the table and angrily smears it on me—my face, my neck, my chest—just like in my dream last night. But there’s nothing soothing about it; her touch is rough, raw, as if she’s desperate to punish me for what I said. What she doesn’t realize is that her every move, every touch of her fingers on my skin, ignites a sinful pleasure in me that could make onlookers blush, if they could see. I don’t retaliate yet. I let her play with my body and the colors, but when she’s exhausted, I grip her wrists. Our eyes lock. If she thinks I won’t respond to her anger, she’s wrong.

I take a pinch of maroon color from the plate and fill her hair partition.

“Vik…ram?” Maahi gasps.

Time halts as we both realize what I’ve just done. But it’s not vermillion; it’s just a color in the heat of the moment. She shoots me a sardonic look, frees her wrists, shoves my shoulders, and runs away. I turn around, shocked to see a group of people staring at me, frozen by my actions. Among them is my grandmother. I don’t understand why they’re so taken aback, but it’s clear my actions have struck a chord.

Everyone stares at me like I’ve committed a crime right before their eyes, but Nandita and Pushpa aunty are grinning as if they’re on my side. I’m not concerned about anyone’s reaction except my Daadi’s. She’s looking at me, stupefied and hurt. I refuse to let her gaze affect me and head back to the palace. No, I’m not following Maahi, even though my feet itch to rush to her and see her reaction.

I’ve just entered Ratna Mahal when Daadi calls out, forcing me to stop. I try to keep my composure, and out of respect, I turn to face her.

“What was all that, Vikram?” she shouts. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

“I thought that’s called playing Holi.”

“You filled her Maang (hair partition),” she counters.

“With colors,” I snap. “That wasn’t vermilion. What do you call it? Yeah, Sindoor. That wasn’t Sindoor, Daadi.”

I know she dislikes my argument and isn’t convinced.

“That still doesn’t justify your act. There were hundreds of guests here, and each one of them witnessed it. People are gossiping, Vikram, and it might not affect you because you’ll leave soon, but have you thought about Maahi? She’ll have to bear the consequences.”

“Wrong,” I argue. “It won’t affect me, not because I’ll leave this place soon, but because I don’t let people’s thoughts affect me. And neither should Maahi.”

Daadi stares at me, bewildered, then strides toward me.

“I don’t understand what exactly you want, Vikram.”

“You don’t?” I counter. “You know exactly what I want, Daadi. And if you insist, let me spell it out. I want Maahi. I don’t know how or why. I just want her in every way possible. I don’t know what to call it, but I want her. That’s all I know.”

My confession scares Daadi.

“That’s called obsession, Vikram. You’re obsessed with her, but Maahi is not going to be your plaything. She has a life of her own and will make her own choices.”

“Plaything?” I scoff. “You think I would treat a woman like my plaything? Is that what you think of me, Daadi?”

She looks hurt by my question, but I’m more hurt.

“I might act like one, but I’m not a devil. I respect women, and I’ve never treated any woman in my life as my belonging. I don’t know what I feel for Maahi, but it’s far more intense than I can understand. I know you’re worried about her and don’t want her to get hurt, but believe me, I want the same. You and Maahi mean something to me, and I’ll never let any harm come to either of you. I promise.”

Tears spring in her eyes, which I wipe away before kissing her forehead.

“Happy Holi once again, Daadi.”

I turn and walk back to my room.

MAAHI

I wake with a pounding headache, disoriented to find myself sprawled on the sofa in my room instead of my bed. Sunlight streams through the windows, and I'm still covered in the vibrant remnants of Holi celebrations. The Bhaang must have hit me harder than I realized. I might have slept for a few hours.

Stumbling to the bathroom, desperate for a shower, I catch sight of myself in the mirror and freeze. My hair parting is filled with maroon color, looking disturbingly like sindoor. I look like a bride! The memory hits me like a physical blow – Preet’s teasing, my flight into Vikram's arms, our heated argument, and then... his audacious act of applying the color in my hair partition. How could he be so reckless? Doesn't he understand the implications?

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