Page 77 of Stars in Nova

She marveled at his presence, her thoughts tangled with awe and emotion.

It’d been years since a man lay in her bed.

Not in the least, him.

This man, who stormed into her world in pursuit of a stolen mask, had done so much more than reclaim what was his.

He’d fought beside her people with a ferocity that left no doubt of his commitment.

Kisan gave everything, driving himself to the brink, his strength and power unmatched even among the Vaelorian warriors.

Her eyes trailed down to the luminescent lines of his tattoos, which pulsed as if still recovering from the battle.

They appeared alive, a testament to the energy coursing through him, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for the resilience he embodied.

He’d faced every challenge thrown his way—her betrayal, the fight for Thalassa, the searing toll of the mask—with unyielding courage.

Her gaze lingered on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath.

Beneath the blanket was the outline of his burly frame.

Her eyes skimmed over the broad shoulders that bore considerable strain. Damn, the muscular arms that had shielded her and her people.

Her mouth even watered at the taut lines and ripples in his abs, which spoke to years of discipline and hardship.

Her clit pulsed at the memory of his strength, of how he’d moved in the heat of battle, a force of nature cutting through the enemy ranks.

She shifted in her seat, her heart pounding as it hit her how much she cared for him.

The emotion crept up on her, unexpected and undeniable, growing from admiration to an attraction more potent.

She wanted him to stay, to be more than just an ally in this fight. She desired to know the man beneath the armor, to unravel the mystery of his guarded soul.

Samira’s gaze drifted back to his face, her lips curving into a small smile.

Even in his exhaustion, she admitted an intensity about him, an unshakable, irresistible essence.

She remembered how he gazed at her earlier, warily, longingly.

His touch then lingered just a moment too long, as if he, too, was struggling to deny what simmered between them.

Her fingers itched to reach out, brush back the strands of hair framing his face, and savor the heat of his skin beneath her stroke.

However, she held back, knowing he needed rest and that she couldn’t afford to allow herself to fall too deep just yet.

Still, the pull of him was undeniable. The man who’d come for his mask had stayed for considerably more, and with every passing moment, he was claiming a larger piece of her heart.

Samira leaned back, exhaling, her gaze never leaving him.

She would let him unwind for now, but she knew her feelings could not be ignored for long.

Kisan woke with a start.

Where the bloody hell was he?

He knifed up in bed, groaning as his sore body reminded him of his recent exploits.

‘Kids, let him sleep,’ he heard a gentle whisper.

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