The early morning light bled through the single window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and painting Rajesh’s sleeping form in soft, golden hues. Durga watched him, her heart still thrumming with the residual energy of the night before. Her night. The night she had finally taken what she wanted, had claimed the man the world had forced upon her and made him, truly, hers. But the fire he had stoked in her was far from banked; it was a living, breathing thing in her chest, demanding more.

A bold, deliciously wicked idea bloomed in her mind, born from the embers of her newfound power and the memory of his raw, unyielding strength. She wanted to test it. To feel it, directed by her will.