The night was thick with heat and the aftermath of their hunger.

The bedroom smelled of sweat, jasmine oil, and the faint metallic tang of bitten skin. Ishani lay on her back—saree long discarded in a crumpled heap near the foot of the bed, blouse torn open at the front, bra shoved down beneath her breasts like an afterthought. Her body was a map of his possession: neck and collarbones ringed with dark red love-bites, the soft mounds of her breasts swollen and glistening, nipples raw and erect from hours of relentless sucking, licking, and brutal chewing. He had latched onto them like a man starved—teeth sinking in until she cried out, tongue soothing the sting only to bite again harder. Faint purple bruises bloomed across the undersides where he’d mauled her with rough palms and greedy mouth.