Hi,

Not much too say, just that I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I did while writing!

Chapter 9

Breaking of walls - part two

Black and red; him and her; the eternal moonless sky and the flames that self consumed, dancing in the breeze. One was a beautiful mystery and the other a tempting secret. There were trillions of tiny flames in the folds of sky, and there were a core of night within each flame - they were similar but different at the first glance.

The paint trickled down the rough surface of the wall and Omkara stepped back admiring his handy work. Ragav Khanna was not the only reason that brought him to Delhi. Shivay had been after his blood, trying to convince him to finish the work and open his gallery in the city. Omkara had been putting it off, not wanting to leave home on a long term basis. But now that he was here - as Shivay said - he had more than enough time to look into it. Omkara knew why his brother was so persistent on the matter. He wanted his old Om back, and as it was the case, Shivay Singh Oberoi got what he wanted - by hook or by crook. Omkara shook his head, thinking of his dear brother and his scheming. However reluctant, he had finally stepped into the half finished space, and decided that he would work on the center piece wall art, all by himself.

The thoughts that had been consuming him inwardly for so many days had found their release in the form of the strokes of raw colors on the uneven wall. He had made a thick layer of color on which he was now working with a chisel and a short knife. His strokes were blunt, and deep cutting, similar to  his state of mind. The memories of the recent days, especially the night before, had him in a constant loop of regret and frustration. He should not have given into the temptations, he should not have let her tears affect him, he most certainly should not have held her so close - now that the memory of her warmth against his, messed with his sanity. He had known the girl was out for his destruction, and he had willingly walked into her trap. Not to mention while that vile woman was standing in the side lines.

That reminded him, Svetlana had not revealed her reason for visiting him yet. Every moment he spent with her suffocated him, as if the woman was a python slowly coiling herself around him. Play along - had been Shivay's advice, which he tried to follow, although it was against all his fundamental principles. There was one basic truth, above all else; Omkara could die for his mother; principles held no ground against that.

He wiped his brow, adjusted his spectacles and stared at what he had done. A red sky and dancing flames of black, two eyes that held the entire vision within them, the flames curiously shaped a figure which only looked too familiar. It was a chaos, not the subtle, smooth art he was known for. It was a whirl of thoughts and passion, secrets and emotions. Black and red and everything of the tones between, just like the flickering attractions between them, of darkness and light, sin and salvation.

"That's some wall art," someone let out a low whistle. Omkara closed his eyes with an inaudible sigh. Why the god had to test him repeatedly. He tried to ignore the rapid increase of his heartbeat as he turned around, his eyes as usual getting caught up in the gaze of those espresso orbs.

"Jai's not here." He told her  shortly.

Ri smirked, looking around.

"Apparently," she said, her eyes soaking in the vision. "You know, I've never been to an art gallery before."

"This is not an art gallery, " Omkara told her. "Yet," he added then, as she crooked an eyebrow.

"I've never been to an almost - art - gallery either." There was a silent humor in her words, but a genuine curiosity in her eyes. She took in the vision around her, twirling in a circle like a child. But Ri was no child. Omkara watched her, his eyes darkening. She was back to her usual self. The blue highlights back in place with her pilled up hair. She was dressed in a blue stripped shirt - which clearly was not hers, but perhaps Jai's. It was too long and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, the collar buttons undone and hanging loosely, giving a generous view of her collar bones and the tattoos against her milky skin. Then God damn those shorts - which left her legs tantalizingly bare. Her smooth skin glittering in the sprinkling sun as she twirled around in bare feet.

"You can come for the opening," he turned back to the wall, adding a new splash of red -  clearly it needed more fire.

"Is that the polite way of saying get - out?" She chuckled, approaching him, her arms folded against her chest. Omkara brushed off the excess of paint before turning to face her. Some of the red had sprinkled against her throat, contrasting against her complexion. He gulped, watching her pulse throb under that silky skin. Would she be as soft as she looked? The very next moment the thought horrified him, and he shut his eyes tightly, Ri laughed, a light, tinkling laugh.

 "I'm working," he tried to reason with her.

"Toh kiss ne mana kiya?" Ri asked innocently.

Omkara looked at her incredulously, how was he to say that she standing there in an over large shirt and smudged in his paint was disturbing to such an extent that the painting was the last thing on his mind? He could not, right? That should be common sense. Then perhaps it was, for the girl was smirking a little too smugly.

"I need to finish this today," he chose to say instead.

"Main kuch help karu?" She reached out and rubbed a spot above his brow. "You've got paint all over your face you know?"

Her touch felt homely, he almost relaxed into her palm sliding down and caressing his jaw. His eyes closed savoring her touch and her hand  stilled.

"Omkara..." her voice trailed off, leaving a warm vacuum in his senses. Her tone was making him heady, like a drug dimming his senses. Her other hand came up to cup his face and pull him down a few inches. Her breath fanned his face and his eyes snapped open. She had removed his overlarge glasses. The swirls of espresso color and specks of gold highlighted in sunlight, blinked up at him. They were eyes of a lioness who had him under her paws, but at the same time there was a vulnerability, a doubt leaking there somewhere.

That broke his trance.

He stepped back. "You need to leave Gauri." His body complained at the loss of her warm presence close by and his heart ached to gather her into his arms. But Omkara knew better. He had a goal set, Ri played no part in that mission. He could not afford to compromise his family, for a flicker of some unfamiliar emotion.

Her hands hang loosely from her sides as he turned back to his painting.

"Stop running away from yourself Omkara," her tone was bitter, yet fiery like a wounded lioness.

"It's best for both of us." He said slowly, eyes focused on the knife, scratching off the paint artfully.

"You don't make decisions for me, Mr. Omkara Singh Oberoi, I would never give that right to a coward like you!"

"Leave!"

"That hurts right? Your baseless judgements hurt me too! But that was before I realized what kind of a man you are. I should not have given a damn what you think about me, you're not worth it you know? You are just a coward who runs from himself, who has a set of rules for others and a different set of rules for himself. I don't know why I bothered with you to begin with, it's my own stupidity you know? And I - Oh damn!"

Omkara bit back the retort he wanted to unleash at her. If this makes her leave, so be it, he thought to himself. But those words  flared something inside him, made him seethe and shake in anger and he missed the knife stroke.   

A thick, hot stream of red blood dripped from the open cut in his palm, he stared at it numbly, not feeling the searing pain. Unconsciously he had dropped the knife, which clattered on the floor, where a tiny patch of red was already forming. Ri was there in an instant, snatching his arm and examining the cut. Her hands pressed the open skin, adding pressure to the wound, as she held his hand in both of hers, her eyes peering into his, trying to judge his pain.

"Are you freaking insane?" She roared at him, seething in anger. "Dikhta nahi kya?"

He tried to snatch back his hand.

"Leave," his tone was finite.

"You freak - you - crazy - stupid - it's  bleeding!"

His other hand grasped her elbow, trying to pull her away.

"That's enough Gauri, you've said enough. Leave now."

"I'm not leaving, do what you can."

"Trust me you won't like it." His tone was dangerous.

"Try me."

He pushed her against the wall,  her palms slammed against the wet paint as she trashed them around for balance. Ri looked up at him, unfazed by his eyes boring into hers, or the fact that their faces were too close together. Her hands came up to fist his collar, straining it with the red paint in the process. He let their breath mingle for a while, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of her lavender and mint, with the fresh scent of paint on the wall. Her pulse was throbbing faster against her throat, her golden eyes dilated, before she inched forward and took his lower lip between her own. Omkara stilled for a fraction of a second, the astonishment of her lips moving against his in softest touches, freezing him. Ri smiled against his lips, knowing the battle was won, her tongue reached out and traced the parting of his lips with its tip, mocking his control and breaking the last strew that held him back in return. He claimed her mouth into a searing kiss the next moment, her lips molding into his, blurring her senses with the passion he unleashed. Ri stumbled against the wall, taken by surprise as the tables turned, she could not fight the fire that had claimed her. His thumb and caressed her cheek, in soft seductive movements that left wet stains of paint on her heated skin and she felt herself moan into his mouth.

Then she gave in, letting him take the lead, pleasure her in his own way. Ri was wise enough to choose her battles. This was not one she could win, but one she was only too happy to lose.

The victory was sweet. The surrender sweeter.

**

Open to your views, please share your take with me.

Sorry fort any disappointments.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Sakura