The Bangalore morning filtered softly through the heavy blackout curtains of the penthouse, casting a cool, grey light over the tangled mess of the king-sized bed. The storm of the previous night the anger, the desperate tears, the brutal reclaiming ....had settled into a heavy, intoxicating calm.

Amyra was still asleep, her head pillowed on Aman’s broad, scarred chest. The oversized white nightgown, torn down the middle from his violent assault hours ago, hung loosely off her shoulders, exposing the soft, heavy swell of her breasts and the pink 'A' scar on her stomach.