HIS SALVATION

The rain came down in violent sheets, blurring the edges of the city into smears of black and gold.

Vedika pressed her palm against the glass window, watching the storm rage across the skyline. The meeting was supposed to be simple — signatures, formalities, and she would be free to walk away.

But nothing was ever simple when it involved Abhimaan Rathore.

The click of heavy boots against the marble floor snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned, already bracing herself — but still, the sight of him made something stutter inside her.

Abhimaan moved like he owned the air itself. His dark hair was wet, his shirt clinging slightly to the lines of his body, the tailored jacket doing little to soften the raw danger coiled beneath his skin.

There was something in his eyes tonight — something unhinged, barely leashed.

“You’re late,” Vedika said, folding her arms to mask the sudden spike in her heartbeat.

He smirked, slow and deliberate. “You’re still here. That’s all that matters.”

The room seemed to shrink around them, the storm outside nothing compared to the one crackling between their bodies.

“You think you can intimidate me?” she asked, lifting her chin, refusing to take a step back even as he prowled closer.

Abhimaan stopped just short of touching her, his hands sliding into his pockets, his body heat reaching her through the charged space between them.

“I don’t need to,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “You’re already terrified. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Vedika hissed.

A lie.

She was scared — but not in the way she should have been.

Not the fear of violence.

The fear of falling.

Of losing herself.

Abhimaan’s hand lifted slowly — deliberate, giving her every chance to move. His fingers brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear with a gentleness that felt more violent than any slap.

“You should be,” he whispered.

Vedika’s breath caught in her throat, a betrayal she couldn’t control.

“You think because you’re powerful, because you’re feared, that you can take whatever you want?” she said, the words trembling with anger she didn’t quite understand.

Abhimaan’s smile faded. For a moment, the mask dropped, and she glimpsed the broken thing beneath his ruthless exterior.

“I don’t take,” he said hoarsely. “I claim.”

And before she could react, before she could even think, he closed the distance.

His hand gripped the back of her neck, firm but not cruel, anchoring her as he pressed his mouth to hers.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was a storm.

Fierce, raw, aching with something too complicated to name.

Vedika froze for a heartbeat — and then the world cracked open inside her.

She pushed against him, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, his other hand cupped her jaw, deepening the kiss with a hunger that felt ancient, inevitable.

Every part of her screamed to pull away.

Every part of her stayed.

When he finally pulled back, both of them breathing hard, Vedika felt like she’d been ripped apart and stitched back together wrong.

Abhimaan’s thumb brushed her lower lip, swollen from the force of him.

“You belong to me now, Vedika,” he murmured.

Her palm connected with his cheek before she could stop herself, the sound of the slap sharp and vicious in the charged silence.

Abhimaan didn’t even blink.

He just smiled — a slow, wicked thing that promised she hadn’t escaped anything.

“You’ll learn,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

“And when you do… you’ll beg me to never let you go.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there — trembling, furious, and far more lost than she had ever been.

Outside, the rain swallowed the city whole.