Chapter 15
Chloe
I woke to soft golden light filtering through the unwoven spaces in the cottage wall. For a moment, I lay still, disoriented by the unfamiliar weight across my waist—Nansar's arm, heavy and warm, anchoring me to him even in sleep.
I turned my head carefully, not wanting to wake him.
He looked different like this. Softer. The hard lines of his jaw had relaxed, his lips slightly parted, dark lashes resting against his pale cheeks like crescents of shadow.
Handsome didn't quite cover it. There was something almost vulnerable about him stripped of the careful control he wore like armor during waking hours.
My body hummed with a pleasant soreness, a reminder of the day and night before.
He'd pleasured me many times, his hands and mouth learning every curve and hollow with an intensity that had left me breathless and trembling.
And he'd asked for nothing in return. Nothing.
Just kissed me afterward—slow, deep kisses that made my heart ache—and pulled me against him to sleep.
I couldn't find words for what I felt. It was too big, too new, sitting in my chest like something wild and unnamed. But my body knew. My soul knew. There was a difference—a vast, undeniable difference—between what Declan had taken from me and what Nansar had given to me.
I pressed closer to his warmth, breathing him in, and let my eyes drift closed again. Just a few more minutes of this. Just a little longer before the world demanded us back.
I felt him stir against me, his breathing shifting from the deep rhythm of sleep to something lighter, more aware.
His arm tightened around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer, and I tilted my head back to find those striking blue-green eyes watching me with an expression that made my breath catch and heat pool low in my belly.
"Morning," I whispered.
His response was wordless. He cupped my face with one large hand and kissed me, slow and thorough, like we had all the time in the world.
Like I was something precious he'd been waiting his entire life to hold.
I melted into it, into him, my fingers curling against the solid warmth of his chest as the kiss deepened.
His other hand traced lazy patterns down my spine, making me shiver and arch closer, craving more of his touch, more of everything he offered so freely.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours, I couldn't tell—lost in the warmth of his mouth, the solid strength of his body against mine. When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rested against mine.
I felt him hard against my hip, the evidence of his desire unmistakable even through the thin barrier of fabric between us.
Heat flooded through me at the feeling, my body responding with a want so raging and intense it almost scared me.
I shifted slightly, and the movement made him groan low in his throat, his fingers tightening on my waist.
Part of me wanted to pull away, to put distance between us and the depth of what I was feeling.
This was happening so fast. Too fast. And yet.
.. the larger part of me wanted to arch into him, to feel more of that hardness pressed against me, to explore every inch of his body the way his hands were exploring mine.
I wanted him. God, I wanted him so badly it made my chest ache.
But something held me back. Some last thread of fear, of self-preservation.
We were still prisoners here, still trapped in circumstances beyond our control.
And giving myself to him completely, crossing that final line.
.. it felt like it would change everything in ways I wasn't sure I was ready for.
His thumb traced my lower lip, his eyes searching mine as if he could read every conflicted thought racing through my mind. "We don't have to—" he started, his voice rough with restraint.
"I know," I whispered, grateful and frustrated in equal measure. "I just... I need..."
"Time," he finished for me, understanding in his gaze even as his body remained taut with unfulfilled need. "I can give you time, Chloe. As much as you need."
The way he said my name—a rumble in his chest that I felt as much as heard, vibrating through me like a promise—made something inside me crack open just a little bit more.
Before I could respond, a sharp knock shattered the intimate sanctuary we'd woven around ourselves.
We both froze. Nansar's jaw clenched, that careful control sliding back into place as he pulled away slightly, drawing the furs up to cover us. "Enter," he called out, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that sent an unexpected thrill through me despite the interruption.
The door swung open to reveal a female Welati balancing a tray laden with food.
She was petite compared to the warriors we'd encountered, with intricate markings spiraling along her arms and warm eyes that went wide as they took in the scene before her—me obviously naked beneath the furs, pressed against Nansar's equally bare chest, our hair thoroughly mussed and lips kiss-swollen.
A knowing smile bloomed across her face as she set the tray on the small table near the hearth. "Food," she said simply, her gaze dancing between us with unmistakable approval.
Heat crept up my neck, but I refused to shrink away. Instead, I pulled the furs a little higher and met her eyes directly. "Well," I said, unable to keep the dry humor from my voice, "this should make the Elder happy."
The female's smile transformed into something almost conspiratorial. She dipped her head in a small bow, first to Nansar, then to me—a gesture of respect that surprised me—before turning to leave.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I caught the subtle scent that now clung to both of us—a mingling that hadn't been there before. Not overwhelming, but undeniably present. Evidence of the passion we'd shared, even without crossing that final threshold.
Nansar's hand found mine beneath the furs, our fingers intertwining. "Hungry?" he asked, though the molten heat in his eyes suggested food was the last thing on his mind.
I leaned forward, capturing his lips in a slow, languid kiss. His free hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I felt that familiar heat beginning to build between us again, a delicious tension coiling low in my belly—
Another knock at the door, sharper this time. More insistent.
We broke apart with matching groans of frustration. Nansar's expression mirrored my own disappointment as he called out, "Enter."
The door swung open to reveal a broad-shouldered warrior. His gaze swept over us—still tangled together in the furs, still flushed and breathless—but his face remained impassive.
"The Elder has summoned you both," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Eat quickly and dress."
Nansar's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking there, but he nodded curtly.
The warrior dipped his head in acknowledgment and withdrew, leaving us alone once more.
I looked at Nansar, then at the steaming breakfast on the tray, then back at him. "So much for a lazy morning," I muttered.
His thumb traced slow, maddening circles on the back of my hand, the touch both gentle and possessive. "Later," he promised, his voice low and full of dark intent that sent a delicious shiver racing down my spine.
"Later," I agreed breathlessly, though part of me worried what the Elder had planned for us today.
Still, we had time. Two more days, I reminded myself as my pulse quickened. Two more days to prove to the Elder—and to everyone else—that we were truly mates. That what burned between us was real enough to spare us from whatever fate awaited if we failed.
And honestly? We were off to a pretty good start.
Last night had been... I felt heat creep up my skin just thinking about it.
The way Nansar had worshiped every inch of me with his hands and mouth, the way our bodies had moved together in perfect rhythm, the connection that had ignited between us like wildfire—it had felt more real than anything I'd ever experienced.
Even if we hadn't crossed that final line, what we'd shared had been intimate in ways that left me breathless and aching for more.
We ate quickly, the food barely registering as I tried to push down the anxiety coiling in my chest. Nansar seemed calmer, more resigned, but I caught the tension radiating from his shoulders as he moved about the room gathering our clothes.
When I reached for the washbasin, his hand caught my wrist—gentle but unmistakably firm.
"Don't," he said softly, his dark eyes locking with mine. "We need to... the scent..."
Understanding crashed over me, and heat flooded my cheeks.
"Right," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Nansar's expression softened into something tender and possessive all at once. He pressed a lingering kiss to my temple, his lips warm against my skin. "I know it feels strange. But if we carry each other's scent, even a little..." He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung heavy between us.
It might be enough. It might keep us alive.
We dressed carefully, deliberately. My skin still tingled where his mouth had been, where his hands had mapped every inch of my body.
I could smell him on me—that intoxicating blend of warm spice that was uniquely Nansar—and something about it felt right.
Comforting, even. Like I belonged to him in a way that transcended logic and reason.
As I pulled on my dress, I caught him watching. His nostrils flared slightly, and I realized with a thrill that he could smell himself on me too. The possessive satisfaction that flickered across his face sent heat spiraling through me all the way to my toes.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice rougher than usual, edged with barely restrained desire.
I nodded, smoothing down my clothes with trembling fingers. "Yeah. It's just... different."
"Different how?"