Chapter 16 #3
"This settles it," he says, his grip on my waist tightening as his voice drops to a commanding whisper. "You're mine now. We can start planning our future?—"
"I need time," I interrupt, stepping back before I can hurt him further. "To think. To process everything."
His jaw clenches, frustration flashing in his eyes before he forces himself to nod curtly. "Fine. But don't make me wait long, Elif. I'm not the kind of man who accepts uncertainty."
After he leaves, I head inside the cottage, immediately noticing that Eclin and Zohan are nowhere to be seen. They must have slipped out through the back door while we were outside. I'm grateful for their absence—the last thing I need right now is their curious stares or well-meaning questions.
I go straight to my room, closing the door firmly behind me and hoping that Banu or Mira won't disturb me. I sink into the chair by the window, emotionally drained and physically exhausted. The baby kicks restlessly, as if sensing my turmoil, and I press my hand to my belly with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, little one," I whisper. "Your mother is making a mess of everything."
Sleep takes me before I can fight it, pulling me under into dreams that feel more real than waking life.
I find myself in that familiar field of golden grass, but this time the air itself seems to crackle with tension.
Kaan sits beneath an ancient oak tree, its gnarled branches casting twisted shadows that seem to writhe with their own malevolent life.
His dark eyes find mine across the swaying distance, and I feel the weight of his gaze, intense and hunting.
But instead of the desperate hunger I usually see there—that raw, consuming need that both terrifies and thrills me—his expression is carefully, dangerously neutral.
"You called me," he says simply, but his voice carries an undercurrent that makes my blood run cold.
The golden grass beneath my feet feels sharp as razors as I approach.
Each step sends tremors through the dreamscape, as if reality itself is fracturing under the weight of what I'm about to confess.
"I remembered something," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper as I settle beside him.
The ancient oak's bark behind us pulses like a heartbeat.
"A memory came back—my mother singing a lullaby. I can almost hear her voice, and?—"
"You're lying." The words slice through the air like a blade, accompanied by a smile that doesn't reach his eyes—a smile that promises violence. The temperature around us drops so suddenly that I can see my breath misting in the suddenly arctic air.
Heat floods my cheeks even as frost begins to form on the grass around us. "I'm not?—"
" Hatun ." The endearment rolls off his tongue like honey laced with poison, and the very ground beneath us shudders.
Dark veins spread through the golden grass like spilled ink, and the sky above begins to bleed crimson.
"I can read you like an open book, memories or no memories.
Your pulse is racing. Your hands are trembling.
There's longing written in every line of your body.
" His eyes narrow to burning slits. "You didn't call me here for a memory about lullabies. "
The endearment makes my chest tight with emotion I don't want to examine, but now it's coupled with a terror so profound it steals my breath. The air around him begins to shimmer with heat—or maybe it's rage made manifest. "Kaan, I?—"
"Just. Tell. Me." Each word drops like a stone into still water, sending ripples of power through the dreamscape.
The ancient oak behind us begins to wither, its leaves turning black and falling like ash.
In his eyes, I see the predator I've always known he was, barely leashed, waiting for the excuse to break free.
"I kissed Sinan." The words explode from me like a confession torn from my throat under torture.
"This afternoon. I wanted to know if I felt something for him, if maybe my brother was right about choosing someone safer, someone human.
But I didn't feel anything, and now I feel terrible about it, and?—"
He's gone.
One moment he's sitting beside me in the golden grass, the next the dream is empty except for the echo of his presence and the terrible certainty that he's left to do exactly what I feared he would do.
"Kaan!" I call out, but my voice echoes in the empty dreamscape. "Kaan, come back!"
But he's already gone, vanished into whatever shadow realm he inhabits when he's not haunting my dreams. And I know, with the horrible certainty that comes from understanding someone too well, that he's gone to kill the man I just kissed.
The dream dissolves around me as I wake with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. Outside the cottage window, I can see the first hints of dawn creeping across the sky.
Somewhere in the village, a man who's shown me nothing but kindness is about to die because of my weakness.
And I don't even know if I have the strength to stop it.