24.1

The door to the den clicked shut behind them with a soft finality, cutting them off from the scent of brisket still warming in the kitchen and plunging them into a cocoon of shadows and firelight. The den was warmer than the rest of the house, the heat from the hearth seeping into the floorboards and lingering in the thick pelt spread across Rian’s oversized bed. It smelled faintly of cedar and something wilder—something that made Nuri’s pulse skip.
Kalmin didn’t speak as he carried her across the room. His eyes flicked to the low-hanging beams overhead, then back down to her, his expression unreadable—but his arms tightened around her just a little, as if holding her anchored him too. His body radiated heat, and with every step, she could feel the steady thud of his heart against her ribs. Her heart beat faster in response, syncing like some ancient rhythm remembered only in touch.
When he set her down, the furs rustled beneath her with a gentle sigh. She sank into them, the plush texture brushing her bare skin like a whispered invitation. The firelight flickered across Kalmin’s skin as he knelt at the edge of the bed, casting golden highlights along the lines of his body. His muscles shifted under the movement—sharp angles and soft skin, battle-hardened and still so careful with her.
“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice low and rough with restraint. His fingers curled around the edge of the pelt, knuckles white, as if grounding himself before reaching for her.
Nuri’s breath caught in her throat. She reached out, fingertips brushing the center of his chest, tracing a slow line downward. “You’re not the only one,” she whispered, the admission sitting heavy in the space between them.
His brows lifted, eyes flickering with something sharp and unspoken. “Yeah?”
A shy nod was all she could manage. “I dream about this—us. And when I wake up… it feels like losing something I didn’t know I had.”
Kalmin leaned down slowly, brushing his lips against hers with featherlight tenderness. “That’s your soul remembering mine.”
Nuri’s stomach twisted, not with nerves but with something softer, deeper. She kissed him back, heat pooling low in her belly as he pressed her into the bed. The pelt cradled her like it was made for this—made for them. She arched into him without thought, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces long separated.
Kalmin’s hands moved over her like he was learning a sacred language, and his lips followed, dragging reverent paths across her collarbone, down the curve of her neck. “You’re mine,” he breathed against her skin, voice just barely audible. “But more than that… I’m yours.”
It struck her like lightning—sharp, beautiful, right. His words settled in her bones like truth she’d always known, and her body softened beneath him, no longer holding back, no longer afraid.
Nuri’s breath hitched as Kalmin shifted lower, lips lingering over the swell of her chest, the hollow between her breasts, as if tasting memory and promise with every kiss. He took his time, never rushing, like worship wasn’t meant to be hurried.
The fire cracked softly behind him, shadows dancing across his back as he slid down her body, pushing her thighs apart with a patience that felt more like hunger restrained. She trembled beneath his touch, her fingers threading through his hair on instinct, tugging gently when his breath ghosted over her inner thigh.
Kalmin looked up at her, then—eyes dark, lips parted—and the weight of that gaze made her ache. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
She shook her head, her voice too thick with need to speak. Instead, she arched into him, thighs widening further in silent invitation.
His growl was quiet but primal, something ancient curling between them. Kalmin dipped his head and dragged his tongue along her slowly, deliberately, like the first taste of something he’d spent lifetimes craving.
Nuri gasped, her back arching against the furs. Her hand tightened in his hair, but not to stop him—to hold on, to anchor herself as he unraveled her piece by piece.
He explored her like she was a secret, a song only he knew how to play. Every flick of his tongue, every kiss and tender suck, was a declaration. She felt it in the roll of her hips, the way her breath caught and broke, in the way her name sounded like prayer when he whispered it between her thighs.
Her body trembled under his mouth, the heat of the room nothing compared to the fire building in her core. And through it all, Kalmin never looked away. His eyes were locked on hers every time she dared to meet them—wild and worshipful and full of things he hadn’t yet said aloud.
“You taste like home,” he murmured, voice hoarse, reverent.
Nuri’s lips parted in a silent cry as pleasure surged through her, stars sparking behind her eyes. Her fingers fisted the pelt beneath her, the edges of her world blurring as Kalmin coaxed her over the edge with nothing but his mouth and unrelenting devotion.
When her body stilled and the tremors faded, Kalmin didn’t pull away. He kissed the inside of her thigh gently, like sealing a promise. Then, slow and sure, he crawled back up beside her, his body curling around hers as if protecting something fragile and precious.
Nuri turned into him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Her breath was shaky, but her voice held quiet awe. “That was…”
“Perfect,” Kalmin finished for her, his lips brushing her temple. “Because it was you.”
She smiled against his skin, eyes closed, body still buzzing. For a while, neither of them moved. The fire popped softly beside them, casting shadows that stretched and swayed like sentinels to the moment.
But Nuri’s fingers didn’t stay still for long. They ghosted over his chest again, tracing the faint scars and dips of muscle. “You always take care of me,” she murmured. “Always give so much.”
Kalmin’s arm tightened around her waist, voice thick with something unspoken. “Because I want to.”
“I know.” She lifted her head and brushed her lips across the edge of his jaw, lingering there, savoring the warmth of his skin. “But let me take care of you now.”
His breath caught, the flicker in his expression impossible to miss—surprise, maybe, or a hunger so long buried it didn’t know how to surface gently. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Nuri’s voice didn’t waver. It came steadier than she felt, anchored in the quiet certainty growing between them. Her fingers slid over his chest, featherlight, and she shifted to her knees beside him, eyes never leaving his.