20.1 Heat and Headaches

‘Again?’ The thought came unbidden as Nuri stirred, her hand instinctively finding the warm, bare skin of Kalmin’s chest. She stilled, breath held, silently pleading with her body not to wake Tempest. Her head pounded like a war drum, worse than yesterday by a long shot. Yesterday felt like a hangover. This… this was agony tearing through her skull like claws scraping across bone.
A small moan escaped as she sat up, palms pressing into her temples.
Kalmin stirred beside her, his voice husky with sleep. “Morning.”
When his eyes landed on her expression, his tone shifted. “Come on.”
He didn’t wait for permission—he just moved, arms around her like she weighed nothing, carrying her to the balcony and setting her down on the cold concrete. The morning air hit her hard, but Kalmin returned quickly, draping the blanket from her bed around her shoulders with surprising gentleness.
“I forgot how brutal it is the first few days,” he murmured, settling beside her. “I’m sorry.”
“How?” she rasped. “How do you forget this pain?”
Her voice cracked with more than just the headache. She started to glance at him, but immediately regretted it. He was still naked. Again.
“Clothes,” she hissed, looking away before her thoughts betrayed her.
Kalmin raised an eyebrow, smirking as he turned to leave. “For a wolf, you’re awfully squeamish about nudity.”
As he walked off, his back flexing with each step, Nuri tried not to watch. ‘Is it nudity, or just his nudity?’ she wondered, pulse fluttering in betrayal.
In the kitchen, Kalmin leaned lazily against the counter while the coffee brewed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘She looked. Again.’
Nuri shuffled in a few minutes later, wrapped in the blanket, her steps heavy. She collapsed into the nearest chair and lay her forehead hit the table with a dull thunk.
“When does it stop?” she whispered.
“Day two or three is the worst. By the end of the week, it fades. Give it two weeks and it’ll just be a weird moment when you wake up.”
“So this is peak misery,” she muttered, eyes barely open. “If I’m waking up like this tomorrow, I might as well earn the hangover.”
“Absolutely not,” Kalmin said, placing a coffee in front of her. “You’re in training now. No booze, no shortcuts. You need your mind sharp.”
Nuri stirred milk into her cup with a faint smile. “But you can still drink?”
“I’m not the one in training.” He yawned and stretched, every line of his body pulling tight before he slouched back down across from her. “So… Tempest told you about our little chat last night? Or were you awake for it?”
His eyes pinned her, green and sharp as glass.
Nuri blinked, thrown by the shift. “Neither. I assumed. Why? What did you two talk about?”
Kalmin tilted his head and took a long sip of coffee, his gaze never wavering. “Hell of an assumption.”
He didn’t answer.
“We’re heading to Cameron’s after breakfast,” he added casually.
She stared at him. That sidestep was not subtle. Her trust in Tempest still wavered after the memory theft, but not knowing what had passed between her and Kalmin last night twisted something uncomfortable in Nuri’s chest.
“Tempest still asleep?” Kalmin asked suddenly, breaking her thoughts. “Ask her when she wakes if you don’t believe me. We talked about the five families.”
He stood and moved to the stove. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know the rest. Not yet.
“Okay,” Nuri said softly, forcing herself to let it go. She took their empty cups to the sink and rinsed them out, trying to push the uncertainty from her mind. If Tempest doesn’t tell me, I’ll just have to trust him. Trust both of them.
She turned around—and stopped short. Kalmin stood right behind her, reaching up into the cabinet.
Her eyes flicked downward before she could stop herself.
He caught her. “Nope,” he said, immediately shielding himself with both hands and backing away. “Not doing this again.”
Nuri groaned and started laughing despite herself. “I said it was an accident!”
“Twice is a pattern.” He smirked. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Silence was beaten into us at the conclave. If I’d known you were so punch-happy, I’d have tied a bell around my neck.”
He gripped her waist suddenly and lifted her out of the way, like she weighed nothing.
“The omelets are going to burn.”
She gasped, stunned that he’d just picked her up. “What makes you think you can manhandle me like that?”
Kalmin turned off the burner and faced her, trapping her between his chest and the countertop.
“That wasn’t manhandling,” he said, voice low. His eyes searched hers, hungry. “Would you like to know what manhandling really feels like?”
Nuri froze. The heat in his gaze was too much. Dangerous. Tempting. She wanted to say yes—gods, she wanted to say yes—but instead she wrinkled her nose and looked away.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Liar,” he murmured, laughing. But he didn’t move, didn’t back off.
Nuri’s heart pounded. She could feel the tension sparking between them, electric and charged, as if one wrong word would ignite it all.
“So,” she said quickly, desperate to redirect her thoughts, “who’s Cameron, and why are we visiting him?”
Kalmin smirked and stepped back at last. “Nice pivot.” He grabbed their plates. “One of my betas. Best fighter I’ve got.”
“I thought you were training me?” she asked as she followed, suddenly unsure why that mattered so much.
“I am,” he said, pouring water into glasses. “But I still have responsibilities. Cameron fills in when I can’t be there.”
Her appetite vanished. The omelet tasted like ash. “So you changed your mind?”
Kalmin caught her tone, studying her like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. “You said you didn’t want to be near me. Now you’re upset that I won’t be around?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, pushing her plate away. “Every time I start to let my guard down, I remember that Tempest stole my memories. It colors everything.”
Kalmin leaned forward. “Then decide. Do you want those memories back?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She looked away. “They’re gone.”
“Yes or no,” Kalmin said, his voice strained, jaw tight as he fought to keep from saying something he’d regret.
Nuri swallowed hard. “I want the truth. All of it. Even if it hurts.”
Kalmin exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Good. Because once you remember, everything changes.”