Ajashakti, his voice devoid of emotion, addressed the trembling village elder, "I require a wife. Bring me one that is blessed with auspicious marks."

Pralayant, ever the opportunist, added, "She must be young and pleasing to the eye, a worthy consort for our Asur-raj."

The villagers, their fear magnified by the Asuras' demands, exchanged terrified glances. With their faces etched with terror, remained motionless, their eyes wide with fear.

Vakrang, his patience wearing thin, broke the silence. "Speak, human," he growled, his voice laced with menace. "Where is such a girl ?"

A heavy silence descended upon the village. The Asuras, their patience wearing thin, exchanged menacing glances. The humans, their faces etched with fear and defiance, stood their ground. Honor, a concept foreign to the Asuras, was a powerful force driving the villagers. They would not surrender their daughters.

"Bring us a girl ! Did you not hear ?!" Ketunemi got irritated, his voice, like thunder, echoed through the night, a stark contrast to the terrified silence of the villagers.

The humans, their resolve unwavering, stood their ground. Their silence was a silent defiance, a refusal to bow to the Asuras' demands.

Ajashakti's gaze swept across the huddled group of humans, a flicker of intrigue passing through his eyes. They were a stark contrast to his own kind - smaller, weaker, and seemingly defenseless. Yet, there was an undeniable strength in their stance, a defiance that belied their physical limitations.

Pralayant, his patience wearing thin, stepped forward. "Bring us a girl, and quickly. You won't like what will happen if you defy us." The implication of his words was clear - refusal would have dire consequences.

The village elder, his voice trembling but determined, met Pralayant's gaze. "You will not have our daughters," he declared, his words a defiant echo in the night.

Vakrang, his patience finally exhausted, leaped from the back of his steed, his massive form casting a menacing shadow over the terrified villagers. With a swift, brutal move, he grabbed the sarpanch by the back of his neck and hurled him to the ground with a sickening thud, his knees buckling beneath the impact.

Vakrang raised his mace, the heavy weapon glinting menacingly in the moonlight. The villagers cowered in terror, their eyes wide with fear as they awaited the inevitable blow. But before the mace could descend, a voice, small but filled with courage, pierced the night.

"Stop !" A young girl, rushed towards the scene, and with a desperate cry, she threw herself over the fallen elder, her body shielding him from the impending doom.

A delicate fragrance of jasmine filled the air as she came. Ajashakti closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent, pure and intoxicating, stirred something deep within him. Perhaps, a primal urge, that was both unfamiliar and compelling.

"Please," she pleaded, "spare my father."

Her voice was as delicate and pure as the jasmine scent that surrounded her. A slow, involuntary smile crept across Ajashakti's lips. It was a sound as sweet as nectar, a melody that soothed the savage beast within him. Ajashakti slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon the young woman who had thrown herself in front of her father.

She was of slender build, her form delicate in contrast to the imposing figures of the Asuras. Her hair, long and wavy, cascaded over her shoulders, a dark curtain framing her face. Her complexion, rich and earthy, was of a darkish tone. Her face however was hidden, obscured by the selfless act of protection.

"Retreat." Ajashakti commanded, his tone firm. Vakrang, reluctantly obeyed, backing away with a disgruntled grunt.

Ajashakti dismounted his horse, his long legs gracefully touching the earth. With a surprising gentleness, he knelt before the maiden, his towering figure dwarfing her small form. Feeling his presence, the girl turned her face towards Ajashakti.

In the dim moonlight, her features were revealed, a breathtaking masterpiece of nature's artistry. Her eyes, large and luminous, held a mix of fear and defiance. Her skin, smooth and flawless, was a rich caramel hue. Her lips, full and inviting, were slightly parted. Ajashakti was struck by her beauty, a tender flower blooming in the midst of a storm.

His gaze refused to stray, his eyes drinking in her beauty. Time seemed to stand still as he took in the delicate features of her face. Unconsciously, a blush crept up his cheeks, a stark contrast to his usual impassive demeanor. However, in the dim light of the night, it was barely noticeable.

His gaze scanned her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her slender figure, clad in a translucent garment. Desire ignited within him. He took a deep breath. The intensity of this passion was a foreign sensation.

Slowly, he reached out to his fingers curiously tracing the contours of her face with utmost tenderness. She flinched, her body tensing. But his touch was gentle, almost reverent. The softness of her skin was a stark contrast to the rough callousness of his palms. As he traced the curve of her jawline, his hand moved downward and he gently captured a lock of her hair.

Bringing it closer to his face, he inhaled deeply. The scent that wafted towards him was intoxicating, a heady blend of jasmine and wildflower, more potent than any wine he had ever tasted. Closing his eyes, he revelled in the sensory overload, losing himself in the intoxicating moment.

With a heavy sigh, Ajashakti opened his eyes, his gaze then falls back on her face. A gentle smile curved his lips as he looked into her eyes.

"What are you called, little bud ?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended. The term, a spontaneous expression of admiration, surprised everyone around him.

Her eyes, wide with fear, met his gaze. Her voice, a mere whisper, carried the name "Anugamini."

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A/N

🌝🌝🔥🔥

And for those who don't know :

Anugamini - (female) Follower.