Page 65 of Feral Gods
"Would you like to test it?" Kaia's question comes with a slight tilt of her head, dark curls falling across her shoulder.
"Scientific method would suggest empirical investigation," I agree, my free hand moving almost of its own accord to brush those curls back, fingertips grazing the delicate curve of her ear.
Her breath catches at the contact. "And what does Zephyr suggest?"
The use of my name—so simple yet so intimate—breaks the last of my scholarly reserve. "That knowledge without application is hollow. That centuries of observation pale before a moment of direct experience."
I lean forward, closing the remaining distance between us. Our lips meet with delicate precision, a careful experiment in sensation. Her mouth is soft, warm, yielding yet responsive in ways that awaken forgotten aspects of myself. The kiss deepens gradually, her hand releasing mine to slide up my arm, across my shoulder, to rest against the side of my face.
When we part, her eyes remain closed momentarily, lips slightly parted. The sight affects me profoundly—this powerful descendant of Morwen, vulnerable and trusting in my arms.
"Your hypothesis shows promise," I murmur, tracing the curve of her cheek with one careful talon.
Her eyes open, magenta sparks dancing in their depths. "Further investigation seems warranted."
"Indeed." I stand, drawing her up with me. "Though perhaps in more suitable surroundings."
Kaia's smile holds equal parts desire and affection. "Lead the way, professor."
I guide her from the workroom through connecting passages to my private chamber—a small alcove I've furnished with scrolls, artifacts, and a sleeping platform covered in furs salvaged from the temple. Crystal lamps cast blue-white light across the space, illuminating the ancient texts that line makeshift shelves along the walls.
"Your sanctuary within our sanctuary," she observes, taking in the scholarly arrangement with appreciative eyes.
"Knowledge has always been my refuge." I close the door behind us, activating privacy wards with a gesture. "Now I find myself seeking new forms of sanctuary."
Kaia turns to face me, her expression open yet somehow vulnerable. "I've never been anyone's sanctuary before."
The admission touches something deep within me. I move to her slowly, deliberately, giving her time to reconsider if she wishes. "Nor have I been anyone's teacher in centuries. We navigate new territories together."
When I reach her, I take her hands in mine, raising them to my lips. The gesture feels both archaic and timeless—a courtly acknowledgment of the precious gift she offers.
"I won't rush you," I promise, watching her reaction carefully. "Knowledge gained too quickly is often imperfectly retained."
A smile curves her lips. "Always the scholar." Her hands turn in mine, fingers tracing the stone-like texture of my skin with obvious curiosity. "Will you teach me this too? With the same patience you've shown with magic?"
"With infinitely more care," I assure her, drawing her closer. "For this knowledge transcends mere technique. It requires... feeling."
Her body aligns with mine, small and warm against my larger, cooler form. "Then teach me, Zephyr. Show me what you feel."
The invitation undoes me. Centuries of careful restraint dissolve beneath the simple sincerity of her request. I lift her gently, carrying her to the fur-covered platform. As I lay her down, her dark hair spreads across the pelts like spilled ink, creating a striking contrast that emphasizes her vibrant humanity against the remnants of my previous life.
"Beautiful," I murmur, half to myself.
Her hands reach for me, drawing me down beside her. "Show me," she repeats, her voice a whisper now. "Not just with words."
I kiss her again, more deeply this time, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other traces the curve of her waist. She responds with unexpected ardor, her body arching toward mine, her fingers exploring the ridges and planes of my chest with uninhibited curiosity.
"The integration of mind and body," I remind her between kisses, "requires complete harmony between thought and sensation."
"Less thinking," she suggests, tugging at the simple robe she wears. "More sensation."
I help her remove the garment, revealing skin flushed with desire and anticipation. Unlike Ravik's possessive claiming or Thane's battle-fueled passion, I approach her with methodical appreciation—each caress an exploration, each kiss an experiment in pleasure.
"Here," I murmur, tracing the sensitive hollow of her throat with my lips. "The vagus nerve branches, creating a nexus of sensation."
She gasps as I demonstrate, her pulse quickening beneath my touch.
"And here," I continue, my hand sliding over the curve of her breast, "the sympathetic nervous system responds to gentle pressure with cascading effects throughout the body."
