Chapter 10: Dance in the Temple’s Flame

John sat on the fabric by the altar, his notebook open, his pen feverishly scrawling lines about the ritual, Shri Devi, the knowledge buzzing in his mind, and his grandfather’s secrets urging him forward. The temple breathed around him — the scent of sandalwood and musk mingled with the damp breath of the Ganges, and distant bells vibrated in his bones. Three days had passed since the ritual, but they had blurred into a single whirlwind of passion and mysticism. Nalini, like a playful kitten, never strayed far from him, her hunger for his body insatiable, her obedience absolute. She drank in every moment of their closeness, as if starving for his strength, and John reveled in it, surrendering to the wild energy awakened within him.

On the first day, as twilight enveloped the temple, Nalini crept toward him, her sari barely clinging to her hips, exposing her bronze skin that glistened in the dim light. Her eyes, burning with desire, beckoned him, and John felt his erection harden under her gaze. He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm, and yanked her toward him, tearing off her sari in one motion. Nalini purred, her full, firm breasts brushing against his skin as she pressed herself to him. He pushed her onto the fabric, her legs parting to reveal her vagina — wet, hot, ravenous. John entered her with force, his erection spreading her, and Nalini arched, her hoarse, wild moan filling the temple. Her vagina clenched around him, as if unwilling to let go, and she thrust back, her hunger so intense that her nails raked his back. John reveled, his thrusts quick, almost ferocious, and Nalini, obedient and ravenous, matched his every move, her breasts swaying, her nipples hardening under his rough fingers.

On the second day, in the darkness of night, Nalini woke him, her tongue licking his chest like a kitten savoring milk. Her greed was relentless — she moved lower, her lips enveloping his erection, sucking with such force that John growled with pleasure. But he didn’t let her dominate him for long. He flipped her over, forcing her onto her knees, her vagina, dripping with desire, glistening before him. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her soft skin, and drove into her, his erection filling her to the brim, eliciting a cry from Nalini that echoed off the stone walls. Her body rocked with his thrusts, her vagina gripping him, greedily swallowing each movement. John pulled her braid, forcing her neck to arch, and his rhythm grew harsher, as if pouring all his fervor into this woman who yielded to him yet demanded more. Nalini moaned, her voice thick with lust, and pushed back, as if begging him not to stop.

On the third day, at dawn, Nalini threw herself at him, her hands clutching his shirt, her lips greedily sucking his neck. John, his mind preoccupied with notes, felt her touch ignite him again. He lifted her, carrying her to the altar, and laid her on the stone surface, her legs parting to reveal her vagina, dripping with desire. He entered her standing, his erection tearing through her wet tightness, and Nalini screamed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if afraid he’d vanish. Her breasts rocked with his thrusts, her nipples brushing his skin, and John bit her shoulder, leaving marks. Nalini, obedient and ravenous, arched beneath him, her vagina gripping him, as if demanding every drop of his passion. Her moans, wild and hoarse, mingled with distant mantras, and John reveled, his movements filled with power, as if merging with the temple itself.

But his time in the temple was ending. John finished his final pages, his notebook brimming with notes about Shri Devi, the rituals, and the shadows of danger that had pursued his grandfather. He prepared to leave, but Nalini lunged toward him, her arms wrapping around his waist, her face pressed against his chest. Her eyes, wet with tears, gleamed with devotion, as if she had given him her entirety. Her sari barely covered her body, her skin glistened with sweat, and she trembled, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“John,” she whispered, her fingers clutching his shirt as if she could hold him back. “You’ve taken my heart. Don’t leave me here, in this temple, alone.”

He looked at her, her beauty, her hunger, her obedience woven into his soul. He cupped her face, his fingers brushing her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Nalini,” he said softly but firmly, “I have to find the truth.”

“I understand… You have your path… But I could go with you…”
“I don’t know how safe it would be for you.” John felt a warmth toward Nalini, but he needed time. The act of passion they’d shared wasn’t meaningless to him, but she couldn’t come with him.
Who knew what awaited him if he chose to see this adventure through to the end?

She shook her head, her lips trembling, but she forced a smile, her eyes filled with pain and devotion. “I’ll wait for you,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “No matter how much time passes, I’ll be here, in this temple, with your mark in me.”

John leaned down, his lips brushing her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin one last time. Her hands slowly released him, but her gaze, full of love and submission, lingered as he left the temple. Varanasi hummed — pilgrims, bells, the scent of the river — but he carried her warmth, her tears, her promise with him.

The university in Varanasi greeted him with the clamor of students and the dust of old books. In Professor Ajay Rathod’s office, a chaos of papers reigned, but the old man looked up, his gaze sharp yet cautious.

“I see… You’re no longer the frightened boy who walked into my office,” he said, setting aside his glasses. “How did it go?”
“You know I’m not here for that,” John snapped. He needed new facts about his grandfather, not the old man’s comments about rituals or whatever he was hinting at.
“No one, not even you, knows why or how they end up where they do. Personally, I believe life is like flipping a coin. Except it never lands and keeps spinning in the air.”

“So what do we do, then? If everything’s just chance?”

“Catch the coin!”

“Who was after my grandfather?” John asked, his voice firm, his bag of notes by his side. “And what did he find?”

“John… How much can you know? Edward wasn’t exactly an open book. Sometimes I had to pry details out of him for hours. And some things went with him to the grave.”

“Are you saying you’ve told me everything?”

“Almost everything… The last time I saw him, he warned me there was a chance you’d follow his path. He asked me to tell you about the temple and to warn you about the ‘Order of Shadow.’”

“The Order of Shadow?”

“Why did you come here at all, John?”

“For my grandfather… and the book.”

“And that’s all? John, I know about the letters. The mysterious letters you received. Haven’t you wondered who sent them?”

“No…”

“I like your adventurous spirit, John. But it could lead you to your grave. Edward didn’t know where those letters came from either, but after his trip to Romania while working on the book, he sensed something was wrong. He felt someone was following him.”

“That was the Order of Shadow? And… Romania? So India wasn’t his first stop?”

“John… I’ve told you all I know. If only I knew more…”

“His draft of the book must be somewhere,” John mused. Going through his grandfather’s archive, he hadn’t come across anything like it. Which meant they had to be hidden somewhere…

“You didn’t find them among his personal things?”

“Nothing like that… I don’t even know where to look… Maybe the country house…”

“If they’re still around, he’d have left them in plain sight. Mysterious people understand the power of hiding in plain sight.”

“Oh, Grandpa…” John was both angry at his grandfather and not… So many secrets, so much trouble… But there was no turning back now.

“Go back to London, John! You need to carefully plan your next step. Whatever happens, I think Edward was confident you’d have the strength to see this through. Or at least… uncover the truth.”

“If you say so…”

“Be careful, lad… And stay safe, at least for the sake of seeing Nalini again!”

“How did you know?!”

“It’s written all over your face… No, more than that, your aura’s practically screaming it!”

“You old…”

John bid a warm farewell to the professor and hurried to pack his things.

In the airport waiting lounge, he sat holding his ticket to London when his phone rang. The screen flashed a name — Lucy. His heart tightened, as if the shadows of the past had suddenly come alive. He pressed “answer,” and her voice, familiar and piercing, cut through the silence, pulling him back to London.

“John?” Lucy’s voice was soft but trembling, as if she were barely holding herself together. “God, you… where are you? I haven’t heard from you in so long, I… I didn’t know what to do. Are you alive?! Are you okay?”

“At the airport,” he replied, his voice even, with a slight coolness but not harsh. “Flying back to London.”

“London?” A pause, her breath ragged. “How did it go!? Did you find what you wanted about your grandfather… Anyway… Can we meet when you get back???” Her words stumbled, pleading, as if she were clinging to him across the distance.

John closed his eyes, images of Lucy and Kate flashing through his mind, but they no longer dragged him down. “Lucy,” he said softly, his voice tinged with warmth but also distance, “I think we should meet too, but I’ve got a ton of things to do. I need to find my grandfather’s notes at the country house. More letters might come, and there’s so much else… And Kate.”

“I can come with you! And help with everything, like I said…” Her voice broke, almost a whisper. “I can’t… John, please…” Lucy muttered under her breath, not meaning for him to hear, but he did.

He clenched his jaw, feeling her pain, but his resolve was stronger. “I’ll call when I land,” he said, softly but firmly, and hung up. Her voice lingered in his ears, but London was calling, and he knew he was walking his own path.