Chapter 14 #2
He drops to his knees in the soft grass, his hands settling against my belly with reverent care.
The moment his palms connect with my body, I have to bite back a moan.
Not because of the magical connection to our child—though that golden thread immediately blazes to life—but because of the purely physical sensation of his touch.
His hands are large and warm, mapping the swell of my pregnancy with a gentle touch. When he spreads his fingers wide, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just below my breasts, I have to fight the urge to arch into the contact.
"I don't feel any movement," he says after a moment, confusion creeping into his voice. His hands shift slightly, seeking. "Is the baby?—"
He glances up at me, his features softening.
"You never have to lie," he says softly, his dark eyes finding mine. "If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask. I'll never refuse you anything, hatun . Never."
The gentle understanding in his voice, the way he sees right through my deception without judgment, breaks something open inside my chest. Before I can think, before I can second-guess myself or remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea, I'm leaning down and pressing my lips to his.
The kiss starts soft, tentative, but the moment our mouths connect, something ignites between us.
Every bitter night of these five months crashes through me at once—the endless ache, the hollow fury, the raw need I buried beneath rage.
His hands fist in the fabric of my dress as he kisses me back with desperate hunger, and I can taste the salt of tears—his or mine, I can't tell.
"Nesilhan," he breathes against my lips, my real name falling from his mouth like a prayer. "God, I've missed you. I've missed this."
I should pull away. Should remember that I don't know this man, don't remember loving him, don't understand what I'm inviting by kissing him in this hidden place where only the grass can witness our madness.
Instead, I sink to my knees in front of him, my hands tangling in his dark hair as he pulls me closer.
The kiss deepens, becomes something desperate and consuming that makes the world around us fade to nothing.
His shadows writhe around us both, caressing my skin through my clothes, and instead of fear, I feel only desire spiraling higher and hotter.
"I don't understand," I gasp when we break apart, both of us breathing hard. "I don't remember you, but this feels?—"
"Right," he finishes, his thumb tracing my kiss-swollen lips. "It feels right because it is right. Because you're mine, and I'm yours, and no amount of lost memory can change that."
His hands slide down to cup my face, and I see myself reflected in his dark eyes—wild-haired, flushed, utterly undone. But there's no judgment there, only love so profound it takes my breath away.
"Kaan," I whisper, and the sound of his name seems to snap whatever restraint he's been clinging to.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine, thorough and consuming.
His hands move over my body with desperate reverence, mapping curves and valleys like he's trying to memorize every inch.
When his palm settles over my breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive peak through my dress, I arch into the touch with a sound that's pure need.
"So responsive," he murmurs against my throat, his lips trailing fire along my skin. "So perfect. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
The gold light that always seems to hover just beneath my skin begins to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat, responding to his touch, his proximity, the dark magic that wraps around us both like a living thing.
Shadow and light dance together in ways that should be impossible, creating something beautiful and otherworldly in the swaying grass.
His mouth finds the spot where my pulse beats wild and frantic, and when his teeth graze the sensitive skin, I cry out in pleasure so sharp it borders on pain.
My hands fist in his hair, holding him against me as he works magic with his tongue that has nothing to do with supernatural power and everything to do with intimate knowledge of my body.
"I want—" I begin, not even sure how to finish the sentence, not sure what I'm asking for.
"What do you want?" he asks, pulling back to look at me with eyes that burn with hunger. "Tell me, hatun . Tell me what you need."
"You," I whisper, the admission torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I want you. I don't understand it, I don't remember why, but?—"
"Nesilhan?"
The voice cuts through our private world like a blade, foreign and male and utterly unexpected. We spring apart so quickly I nearly fall backward into the grass, my heart hammering against my ribs as I scramble to make myself presentable.
A man stands at the edge of our hidden clearing, and my first thought is that he's beautiful in the way expensive things are beautiful—polished, refined, elegant.
Golden hair catches the afternoon light, and his features are aristocratic, almost ethereal.
But there's something in his blue eyes that makes me want to step closer to Kaan despite my confusion.
Recognition. This stranger looks at me like he knows me.
"Nesilhan," he says again, and there's such relief in his voice that it makes my chest tight. "Thank the gods. I've been searching for you for months."
Beside me, Kaan has gone very still in a way that screams danger. Shadows begin pooling around his feet, and when I glance at him, his expression is coldly murderous.
"Who are you?" I ask the stranger, though something deep in my chest whispers that I should know the answer.
His face crumbles slightly, pain flickering across his perfect features. "You don't remember me." It's not a question. "Of course. Banu told me you'd lost your memories, but I hoped—" He takes a step closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I'm Zohan. Your brother."
Brother.
The word resonates through me like a bell, awakening something deep and primal that has nothing to do with memory and everything to do with blood recognizing blood. This man—this beautiful, elegant stranger—is family. Part of whatever life I used to have, whatever past I've lost.
First Elcin, now a brother. After six months of silence, my entire family decides to surface within days of each other? The timing feels too convenient to be a coincidence.
I take an unconscious step toward him, drawn by something I can't name or understand. But before I can take another, Kaan's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back against his side with possessive force.
"Stay where you are," he says, his voice carrying enough menace to make birds flee from nearby trees. "Don't come any closer."
Zohan's blue eyes narrow as he takes in Kaan's protective posture, the way my supposed husband has positioned himself between me and what should be a joyful reunion.
"Still playing the devoted husband, Shadow Lord?
" he says with distaste. "The same monster who drove my sister to destroy her own mind rather than remain in your tender care. "
The insult hits its mark. Kaan's shadows explode outward with violent hunger, turning the peaceful afternoon into something primordial and dangerous. "Watch your tongue, boy, before I remove it along with the rest of your worthless head."
"Stop," I say sharply, stepping between them before this can escalate into actual violence. "Both of you. Just…stop.”
But my mind is reeling. Brother. I have a brother. Someone who shares my blood, my history, my lost past. Someone who might have answers to questions I've been too afraid to ask.
Someone who might be able to tell me who I really am.
"Zohan," I say carefully, testing the name on my tongue. It feels familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. "You say you're my brother?"
"I am," he says simply, and something in his voice makes tears spring to my eyes. "Your older brother, though not by much. We were close once, before..." His gaze flicks meaningfully to Kaan. "Before you married him."
"She doesn't remember you," Kaan says with vicious satisfaction. "She doesn't remember any of her previous life. Whatever claim you think you have on her?—"
"Is stronger than yours, apparently," Zohan interrupts smoothly, "since she chose to forget you entirely rather than remain in your company."
The words are a direct hit, and I feel Kaan flinch beside me. But before he can retaliate, before this can turn into the bloodbath I can see building in both their eyes, I step forward.
"Stop this," I say sharply, stepping between them with more confidence than I feel. "I won't be the reason for bloodshed between you. Whatever claims you both think you have on me, this isn't how civilized people resolve them."
Both men go silent, though the tension between them remains thick enough to cut.
"Zohan," I continue, turning to face the brother I can't remember, "if you truly are my family, then I'm glad you found me. I have so many questions?—"
"Questions I can answer," he says eagerly, taking another step forward. "I can tell you about our childhood, our parents, the life you had before?—"
"Before she became my wife," Kaan interrupts coldly. "Before she bound herself to me in ways that can't be undone, regardless of what she remembers or chooses to forget."
The possessiveness in his voice should anger me, but instead it sends an unwelcome thrill through my veins. Even now, even with family offering me answers to mysteries that have tormented me for months, part of me wants to step closer to the shadows that coil around him like living things.
"I need time," I say finally, looking between them both. "Time to think, to process this. I can't—I won't make any decisions while you're both standing here radiating hostility like territorial animals."
"Of course," Zohan says immediately, though his eyes never leave Kaan's face. "Take all the time you need. I'll be staying at the inn if you want to talk."
"She'll be staying where she belongs," Kaan says with deadly quiet. "With her husband. In case you've forgotten, she's carrying my child."
"A child conceived through forces that destroyed her very sense of self," Zohan replies with matching coldness. "Tell me, Shadow Lord, what kind of husband allows his wife to reach such desperation that she'll drink poison rather than continue living as his possession?"
This time, Kaan doesn't respond with words. The temperature around us drops so quickly that frost begins forming on the grass, and shadows pour from his skin with a promise of violence. I can feel his control fracturing, can sense the violence building inside him like a storm about to break.
"Stop," I say again, but this time I press my hand to his chest, right over his heart. "Please. Not here. Not like this."
The contact seems to ground him, and gradually, the killing frost begins to fade. But his eyes, when they fix on Zohan, promise violence in the very near future.
"This conversation is over," I announce, taking Kaan's hand and tugging him away from my supposed brother. "Zohan, I'll find you tomorrow. We'll talk then."
"Nesilhan—"
"Tomorrow," I repeat firmly, not looking back as I lead Kaan away from the clearing.
We walk in tense silence for several minutes before he finally speaks.
"He's dangerous," he says quietly. "I can smell it on him. Whatever he wants from you, it's not just a reunion with his beloved sister."
"Maybe," I admit, because something about Zohan had felt off in ways I can't articulate. "But he's still family. The only family I can remember having."
"Family isn't always what it seems," Kaan says with bitter experience. "Sometimes the people who share your blood are the ones most willing to spill it."
I glance at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his shadows continue to writhe with agitation. "Are you speaking from experience?"
"Always," he says simply. "My father's family specialized in betrayal and creative murder. Trust doesn't come easily when you've been raised by monsters."
The casual way he refers to his own family as monsters makes my chest ache with sympathy. Whatever else he might be, whatever darkness lives within him, he's been hurt in ways that run soul-deep.
"I won't let him hurt you," I say quietly, and watch surprise flicker across his features.
" Hatun ," he says softly, "I'm the monster in this particular fairy tale. You don't need to protect me from anything."
"Everyone needs protecting sometimes," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Even monsters."
The smile that crosses his face is small and wondering, like I've given him something precious he didn't know he wanted.
"Come," he says, tugging me toward the village. "Let's get you home before your brother decides to continue this conversation with steel instead of words."
As we walk back toward the cottage, I find myself thinking about the choice that's been thrust upon me. My husband, who claims to love me but terrifies everyone around him. My brother, who offers answers but brings dangers I don't understand.
And caught between them, a woman who doesn't even know her own name, carrying a child that might be the key to everything.
Tomorrow, I'll have to start making decisions that will shape not just my future, but the future of the impossible life growing inside me.
Tonight, I just want to hold onto this moment—walking hand in hand with a man who looks at me like I'm his entire world, even if I can't remember why I ever deserved such devotion.
Even if I'm terrified of what I might learn when the truth finally comes to light.