Page 52 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Banu makes a sound of disgust. "Oh, wonderful. Prince Charming arrives to save the day." She brushes past Sinan with obvious disdain, heading for the cottage door. "I'll be inside when you're done with your little performance."
Sinan's expression hardens, his shoulders squaring as he watches the fairy with cold disapproval. "What's her problem?" he asks, his voice carrying an edge of authority that wasn't there before.
"I don't think she trusts easily," I say, which is possibly the understatement of the century.
"Are you sure you're all right?" He steps closer with deliberate confidence, his presence imposing as he grips my chin gently but firmly, tilting my face up to meet his scrutinizing gaze. "You look pale."
"Sinan," I say impulsively, "do you trust me?"
"Absolutely," he replies without hesitation, his voice commanding and sure. "What do you need from me?"
The quiet dominance in his tone, the way he stands like an unmovable force ready to shield me from the world, makes something twist in my chest. Here is strength. Here is unwavering protection, a man who would move mountains without question.
"I want to try something," I say quietly.
Before he can ask what, I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
Sinan takes control immediately, his arms pulling me against his solid chest as he claims the kiss with confident hunger. His hands grip my waist possessively, his mouth moving against mine with practiced skill and barely restrained desire. He tastes like raw determination and masculine certainty, like everything I thought I wanted in a man who could anchor me.
And I feel nothing.
Not the explosive connection I have with Kaan, not the desperate hunger that makes my body sing with recognition. Just pleasant warmth and the crushing weight of guilt that settles in my stomach like swallowed stones.
When we break apart, Sinan's eyes burn with satisfied desire and something deeper. "Elif," he growls, his voice thick with want, "I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you."
"I know," I whisper, hating myself for the disappointment that must be written across my face.
"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 findmyself 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 bothterrifies 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 andfalling 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?—"
