Page 47 of Nansar
The kiss deepened impossibly further, becoming almost desperate. It was tender and tumultuous all at once, a contradiction that somehow made perfect sense. Like trying to crawl inside each other's skin, to fuse together at the molecular level. His teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging gently, and pleasure sparked down my spine like lightning seeking ground.
My nails dug into his shoulders as waves of sensation crashed over me—the scratch of his stubble against my chin, the warmth of his breath, the intoxicating scent of his skin. Everything was heightened, amplified, as if someone turned up the volume on every sense until it was almost too much to bear.
When Nansar pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his control visibly fraying at the edges. "Chloe." My name was rough on his tongue, scraped raw with restraint. "Are you okay?"
I blinked up at him, dazed, my lips tingling with the ghost of his kiss. "Yes," I said, and the truth of it resonated through my entire being. "Yes, I... I liked it."
His expression was beautifully torn, hunger and restraint warring in his eyes like light and shadow. "Even if it means my death," he said quietly, vehemently, each word a vow, "I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Your safety, your comfort—they matter more than my life."
My throat tightened with emotion. "Nansar—"
"Sleep," he said gently, pressing one more kiss to my forehead. "Just sleep. We'll face tomorrow when it comes."
I wanted to argue, to tell him that his life mattered just as much as my comfort, that he was worth fighting for, worth living for. But exhaustion pulled at me with insistent hands, and his warmth was so inviting, his presence so solid and safe and real.
I let my eyes drift closed, my head settling against his chest once more, his hand resuming its gentle stroking along my spine. Each caress was a promise, pulling me deeper into peace, into safety, into something that felt dangerously close to home.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt protected rather than trapped. Cherished rather than claimed. Wanted rather than used.
Loved, perhaps, rather than broken.
Chapter 14
Nansar
I sat hunched over the small wooden table, my clawed fingers tracing invisible patterns across its worn surface as I tried to map out the village from memory. Every turn, every sound—I catalogued it all, searching for weaknesses, for opportunities.
Behind me on the sleeping platform, Chloe's breathing was soft and even, finally peaceful. I'd watched her collapse into sleep hours ago, her body simply giving out from exhaustion. Good. She needed rest. We both did, but my mind refused to quiet, spinning with plans and possibilities—and her.
Always her.
My horns itched fiercely, a maddening sensation that crawled beneath the bone and made me want to scrape them against the walls. The mating drive. Every instinct screamed at me to go to her, to claim her, to make her mine in every way that mattered. To wake her with kisses and hear her gasp my name.
But I wouldn't. I couldn't.
Not like this. Not when she was vulnerable, not when we were trapped and she might feel obligated. When I finally had her—if I had her—it would be because she wanted me with the same desperate hunger that was currently tearing me apart from the inside.
My jaw clenched as I forced myself to focus on the crude map I sketched in my mind. The hut itself would be easy tobreach, but the village was another matter. Guards passed by every hour or so—there had to be a pattern, a gap, something I could exploit.
Anything to keep my mind off the way Chloe had looked at me earlier. The trust in her eyes, shining like starlight. The way she'd pressed close to me in her sleep, seeking my warmth, my protection.
And that kiss.
Goddess help me, that kiss.
My fingers stilled on the table as the memory washed over me again, as vivid as if her lips were still pressed to mine. The softness of her mouth, the little gasp she'd made when I'd pulled her close, the way her body had melted against mine like she was made to fit there. I'd meant it to be brief, a simple reassurance, but the moment our mouths met, something had cracked open inside me—something raw and primal and terrifyingly tender.
I had a human mother, so unlike many of my kind, I grew up knowing that particular gesture of affection. I'd kissed females before—quick, meaningless encounters that satisfied a physical urge and nothing more. Pleasant enough, but forgettable.
But kissing Chloe had been like tasting starlight, like discovering a sense I didn't know I possessed. Like coming home to a place I'd never been. The way she'd melted against me, her small hands clutching at my shoulders as if I were the only solid thing in her world—it had taken every shred of willpower I possessed to pull away.
Even now, hours later, I could still feel the phantom pressure of her lips against mine. Could still taste her sweetness, like honey and hope. My body ached with the need to go to her, to wake her with kisses, to explore every inch of her until she cried out my name in pleasure.
But more than the physical desire—and it was considerable, a constant throb of want that made my blood run hot—was the way that kiss had made me feel. Needed. Worthy. Like I was finally something more than just a prisoner, more than just the monster everyone saw when they looked at my past. When Chloe looked at me, she saw someone worth saving. Someone worth trusting.
Someone worth loving?
I dragged a hand down my face, groaning softly. What was wrong with me? I'd never felt this way before. It went beyond physical want, beyond the mating drive that made my horns itch and my skin feel too tight. This was something deeper, something that terrified me more than any Welati's blade ever could.
