I reached out. Not because I knew what I was doing, but because I had to. My hand moved before I could second-guess it, fingers brushing the edge of hisseretwhere it folded across his chest. The fabric was heavier than I expected—woven thick with golden thread, warm from his skin. He didn’t stop me.
Auren’s hand rose in turn, catching the fine wrap at my shoulder. He moved with care, not haste. The silk slipped from my collarbone like a sigh. My skin rose where the air touched it.
We undressed each other slowly.
Not ceremonially, though it felt like a ritual. Not erotically, though there was no mistaking the heat under my skin.
It was like opening something fragile. Something wrapped for safekeeping.
Theseretfell first, then the golden folds of my robe. His scarf came loose beneath my fingers, the knot tugging gently free before his hair spilled loose across his brow. I had seen his chest before, in sunlight, by the stream. But not like this. Not in the moonlight. Not with intention.
The glow lit him in bronze and shadow. The line of his shoulder, the curve of his ribs, the breath that stirred his chest—each became a detail I could not look away from.
My own skin felt too sensitive. Too new.
And still, we did not rush.
We stood bare, inches apart, the silk pooling at our feet. The altar waited behind him. I knew what it was meant for. But in this moment, there was no pressure.
Only him.
Only me.
And the space between us, narrowing, breath by breath.
Auren stepped toward me.
There was no hesitation in his stride. No teasing curve to his mouth, no flicker of that ceremonial poise he’d worn like armor. Just something solid and unmistakable—determination, barely restrained, wrapped tight around a thread of urgency I didn’t yet understand.
My breath caught.
He closed the space between us in a quiet step, and suddenly I could feel the warmth of him, closer than anyone had ever stood, close enough that our bodies brushed, whispering against each other in the stillness. I didn’t have time to speak. I didn’t have time to think.
He kissed me.
Not gently.
His mouth found mine like he’d done it a hundred times, firm and sure, his hands lifting with the same certainty to touch me. One framed the side of my jaw, his fingers a breath from trembling, the other settled low at my waist, grounding me, anchoring me to the moment.
Heat bloomed through my skin like lightning seeking purchase.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t exploratory. It was fiercely possessive in a way that set fire to something deep inside me, something I hadn’t even known wasthere. Auren kissed like someone who had no interest in surface things. He dove straight for the center.
And I?—
I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’d never been kissed. Not by a boy behind a temple wall. Not by a girl in the shade of a cypress tree. Not even in the secret places of my own imagining. I had always told myself there would be time.
My hands hovered, helpless for a moment, until instinct caught hold and I clutched at his sculpted arm. My fingers curled there, tense and searching, and my other hand rose to his shoulder as if I could brace myself against the storm building in my chest.
Auren pressed closer.
His lips parted slightly, just enough to pull me deeper, and my body responded before I could stop it—leaning in, opening, breath hitching in surprise at the feel of him.
It was like I had been asleep for nineteen years and someone had finally whispered my name.
My heart was a wild thing, panicked and exhilarated, thundering beneath the cage of my ribs. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t know how to carry it. But I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t step back. Couldn’t pretend that something ancient and wordless hadn’t just shifted in me.