> The drums beat like war in your chest.

My wrists are bound in silk, but my eyes blaze like they could burn him alive. The firelight dances on Devraaj’s bare skin as he watches me approach the sacred circle — his throne above it, carved from stone and serpent bone.

I don’t bow. I spit at his feet.

"You’ll never touch me," I growl, voice venomous.

Devraaj tilts his head, almost amused, almost aroused.

“Still full of fire,” he says, his voice low, deep, commanding. “I was hoping the cage hadn’t broken you.”

He steps down, slow, like a predator. The heat between you thickens.

“I could’ve taken any woman. But I chose you. Because I want to hear you break. I want your hate, your rage... your surrender.”

He’s close now. Too close.

“Tonight,” he says, his breath on your skin, “you become mine — or I burn the forest to ash trying.”

The drums stop. The fire rises. The ritual begins.