The kitchen was warm with the lingering scent of dark chocolate and roasted coffee beans. Arina carefully lifted the freshly baked cake from the cooling rack and placed it on the marble slab. The soft sponge still released faint curls of steam. She sliced a small piece with deliberate gentleness, the crumbs falling neatly along the edges.
The next moment, she moved toward the stove to prepare her strong coffee—her ritual whenever she made desserts. Coffee never held her interest much, but the marriage of bitter coffee with a soft, mild cake had always felt perfect. Familiar. Comforting.
Once the coffee brewed, she poured it into a delicate white cup. She took her plate, her cup, her quiet happiness, and slipped into the bedroom.
Soft music filled the room as she placed the items on the bedside table. The curtains let in a muted orange glow from the setting sun. Arina sat on the bed, took a bite of the cake, and smiled—the sweetness was balanced exactly the way Reyansh liked. Not too much, not too little, just enough to linger on the tongue.
Her mind drifted. Not to the cake, or the bakery she was preparing to open, or the usual responsibilities of her day. Instead, it went to him.
To the way his hands felt on her waist.
To the warmth of his breath against her skin.
To how he held her last night—firm, certain, like she was something he owned.
A shade of pink crept across her cheeks.
These thoughts shouldn't make her blush. She had never been someone who lost herself in emotion, never someone easily moved or attached. Her parents in the real world had always worried about her ability—or inability—to connect deeply with others. Books had been her way into understanding emotions she could never fully embody.
But Reyansh... Reyansh was different.
Maybe it was the familiarity she felt the moment she arrived in this world. Maybe it was the novel's remnants in her mind. Or maybe it was simply him.
Whatever it was, her attachment was no longer soft, or rational, or calm.
It was growing into something that clung to her bones and whispered inside her veins.
Obsession.
Not dangerous, not yet. But deep. Heavy. Immovable.
She couldn't lose him. She wouldn't. He was the one thread that connected her old world to this one. The first warmth she had allowed herself to hold. The only person who felt like a home she had never known she needed.
And now, everything was falling into place.
Her bakery would open soon. She was also preparing a surprise for him but after opening the bakery.
The thought brought another smile to her lips.
---
Later that night, after the long day settled into a gentle silence, Arina stood before the wardrobe. Her fingers hesitated for a moment before choosing a nightdress—a little revealing, soft in fabric, delicate in style. Not something she would have worn back in her real world, but something the original Arina was comfortable with.
For her, though... this felt bold.
The neckline dipped enough to show her collarbone and a faint line of her skin. The straps were thin. Her back was almost bare. It wasn't meant to provoke, but to step into confidence—her own version of seduction, cautious but deliberate.
She adjusted the straps, tucked her hair over one shoulder, and let herself breathe.
She wasn't wearing it only for him. She was wearing it for herself—to prepare, to get comfortable, to ease into the future she knew awaited them. She wanted to build slowly, carefully, without fear.
Her thoughts wandered deeper, swirling around what had happened, what almost happened, and what she knew would happen eventually. A heat warmed her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.
Her mind didn't calm.
Not when the door clicked open behind her.
Not when two arms slipped gently—but possessively—around her waist.
She gasped softly, breath catching as warmth pressed against her back.
Reyansh didn't speak at first. He just inhaled her scent, long and slow, like he had been deprived of it. His hands settled on her stomach, fingers splaying across her skin through the soft fabric of her nightdress.
"What were you thinking so deeply?" his voice murmured against her shoulder—low, rough, darkened with something he no longer hide.
She smiled, a teasing attempt to steady herself. "About my husband."
He moved her hair aside, letting it fall over the opposite shoulder. The thin strap slid slightly, exposing more of her skin. His lips brushed over the curve of her neck.
"That so?" he murmured as he kissed her again, slower this time. "Were you thinking about how to tease me?"
Heat flooded her.
Not embarrassment—something deeper. A sensation she couldn't name.
Her breath trembled when he traced his mouth along her shoulder. The thin strap slipped even more, revealing the top of her chest. The nightdress felt too light, too thin, too fragile under his touch.
Reyansh chuckled quietly against her skin, feeling her shiver.
She felt shy—painfully so—but she didn't push him away. She couldn't. She didn't want to.
His lips traveled downward, gentle but claiming, leaving a warmth that lingered long after each kiss. When he bit lightly, Arina made a soft sound she couldn't suppress. He pulled back just enough to see her face—flushed, eyes closed, breathing unsteady.
Then he turned her around.
Her lashes lifted slowly, and when she met his gaze, her heart stumbled.
His eyes...
They were dark. Intense. Possessive.
The kind of gaze that didn't just admire—it claimed.
He ran his thumb along her jaw, down her throat, and traced the mark forming on her skin. She followed his movement with her breath, her fingers trembling where they clutched the fabric of her dress.
"Not teasing me now?" he whispered, leaning close enough that his breath touched her ear.
She swallowed hard, unable to form words.
His lips found her cheek, then her temple, and then her neck again. This time, slower. More deliberate. More hungry. His hand on her waist tightened, fingers pressing into her skin like he wanted to brand her, hold her, anchor her.
Her hands lifted, almost unconsciously, gripping his shirt. The room seemed to grow smaller, quieter, as if the air itself was bending around them.
Her body was warm—too warm—and her breath trembled every time his lips brushed her skin.
Reyansh didn't rush. He wasn't in a hurry. His movements were patient, but heavy with unspoken desire. Every kiss, every stroke, every touch felt like a promise. Or maybe a warning.
When he pulled back just a little, her lips parted in instinctive disappointment.
He smirked.
That expression alone made her knees feel weak.
He leaned in again, whispering against her throat, "Now tell me... were you really thinking about teasing me?"
His voice was lower now, dipped in something darker.
She barely managed to whisper back—not with words, but with the way she lifted her eyes to him, the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt like she needed him close.
Reyansh's gaze flickered downward—to her lips.
His thumb brushed her bottom lip.
Arina forgot how to breathe.
He didn't kiss her lips.
He kissed just beside them, the corner, soft and slow, as if claiming a place no one else had ever touched.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
Her heart raced too fast.
He whispered in her ear, "You look beautiful."
The words hit her harder than any kiss.
Her nightdress suddenly felt even more revealing. Her entire body ached with awareness. Her hair fell loosely around her face as she tried to catch her breath.
Reyansh watched her—watched every small reaction, every blush, every tremble—and his own expression turned darker, more possessive.
He didn't need to say the words out loud.
His hold on her was absolute, unshakeable.
Arina lifted her hand, touching his face with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity between them. Reyansh leaned into her touch for a brief, almost fragile second—then he kissed her forehead, slow and lingering, like a silent claim.
Her heartbeat quieted into something soft but certain.
The night was warm, but the closeness between them was warmer.
And somewhere deep inside that warmth... darker threads were tightening.
Threads neither of them tried to cut.
---
"A love claimed in shadows, held tight in silence."