The house smelled like freshly baked bread when Tristan returned. A cheerful fire lapped at fresh logs in the hearth, and Ceres descended the stairs with an empty tea tray.

“Welcome back, Tristan,” she greeted warmly. “May I cook you something to eat? Procure another pot of tea, perhaps?”

Tristan shook his head. “I ate before I left. Where’s Ara?”

“She is in with Lynn at the moment.” Ceres closed the distance between them and lowered her voice. “I apologize if this is beyond my rank. However, is aught amiss, young Master? You both seem…out of sorts.”

He blinked, surprised that anyone else had noticed. Ara’s conversation and demeanor became short and snappy when he’d given her his reservations about her staying behind. But, in every light he cast on the situation, he realized that his reasons were selfish. Venicia— no, Shi Island needed Ara as much as they needed him.

After a brief pause, he hummed and nodded. “We’ll be alright, I think.”

Ceres adjusted the tray in her hands and offered him a small bow. “Forgive my asking, sir. However, please allow me to offer my services if you need someone to speak with.” She smiled, a slight blush pinking her cheeks. “You do not have to face this world alone.”

“I…Thank you, Ceres.” Tristan felt his chest tighten. When was the last time he’d had a group of friends? Not since kindergarten, I think. Always the last to be picked for a team and the first one to be picked on. “Really, that means a lot.”

“Of course. I will continue my cleaning duties for now. Simply call if you should need me.” Ceres bowed once more.

Even though we’re not going to be here much longer? He considered saying it, but the gleaming banisters and dusted hearth were really nice to return to. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I would not dream of such a thing.” Ceres winked before returning to the kitchen.

Tristan slipped off his shoes and padded up the stairs. He counted the doors until he reached Lynn’s room and entered after a gentle knock.

Ara closed the book in her lap, set it to the side, then stood straight-backed as soon as he entered the room. Like a soldier moving to attention.

“Young Master,” she greeted curtly.

“Ara, please. You can relax.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I went to see Celestia.”

Her posture tensed—she leveled her chin parallel to the floor and straightened her shoulders. The corners of her lips twitched into a frown, but she stayed silent.

“I had Felsi and Annabelle arrest her.”

Ara blinked, then furrowed her brow. Her lips pursed, and her tongue poked behind her cheek. It was clear she hadn’t prepared for this. “You…What?”

“They’ll accompany her on the next boat to Nyarlothep. I’ll draft a writ of arrest for them to bring with them. Misery and Katrin, too. The Venicia School of Etiquette is yours, Ara.” Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. Don’t cry. Do not cry. “I’m sorry for what I said before.”

Ara’s features softened, and she crossed the room. With a hesitant hand, she brushed his cheek with the tip of her fingers. “Tristan. I’m sorry, too.”

He swallowed against the building lump in his throat. “You were right. This is the best place for you and Lynn. Even if I—” A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and he hurried to brush it away. Dammit! “Even if I’ll miss you. Dearly.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He cupped her hand with his, memorizing her touch. The nights in Abalone seemed so far away and short-lived. Their travels together over Shi Island like a distant memory.

Stop it. This isn’t forever.

But it felt like it was. Even when he returned, Ara would have to stay at the school and keep things running in Venicia. She wouldn’t be able to join him on Defiled hunts, and traveling together would be limited. “Dammit,” he murmured.

She slid her other hand behind his neck, gently pulling him down until their lips met.

She pressed her chest into his, eliminating the space between them. How was it possible that after hundreds of partners, her kiss still sent electric shocks through his skin? That her touch made his heart race?

“Ara,” he muttered against her lips.

“Come with me.” Ara twined her fingers through his, then led him out of the room. They moved down the hall to the bedroom Tristan was using as his, where she guided him inside, then closed and locked it behind her. She stroked his hand with one thumb as she stared at the handle. “There are…many things I wish to say to you that are forbidden.”

Tristan waited. To press her to say them was cruel—he’d read countless tomes of Nyarlean law detailing the actions and repercussions of falling in love with a man. No matter how desperately he wanted to hear her tell him, it was just one more selfish desire in a long list of keeping Ara by his side.

She let her hand fall from the handle. “I guess the easiest way to convey it is… You aren’t alone in your feelings, Tristan.” Turning to face him, she rested one hand on his chest. “And if I cannot say them, then let me show you.”

Before he could reply, she was tugging his shirt over his head. Tossing it aside, she gently pushed him back toward the bed. He sat down, and her mouth claimed his as she climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around his back.

Tristan slid his hands beneath her skirt, circling his arms around her thighs and groping the taut muscles of her backside. He traced her lower lip with his tongue, and when she let him in further, he curled her tail around one hand, caressing it gently between his fingers.

Ara gasped, then moaned. She tangled one hand in his hair and used the other to draw pleasurable patterns on his bare back with her nails. Tristan shivered beneath her touch, committing every sound, taste, and sensation to memory. Even her scent was distinct—like lavender on a spring breeze.

With every twist of his wrist, her hips rocked against his hand, then forward in his lap. Even with the layers of his jeans and her panties, he could still feel the growing heat between her legs; his need for her was growing with it.

She drew away from him for the span of a few heartbeats, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it to the side. The sight of lacy black lingerie against her pale skin was enough to make him dizzy.

You’ve seen this a million times. And yet, the voice was silenced by his pounding heart. This was different. Ara was different.

Ara unwrapped her legs, straddling him at the thighs. “Move back,” she instructed breathlessly.

Tristan nodded and shifted his weight backward so that everything but his feet was on the bed. She worked at the button of his jeans, unfastening and divesting them in seconds, following suit with his boxers. She shifted her weight to his calves, then reached behind her back and pulled her short blonde hair to the side so it fell over one shoulder. The gesture itself was simple but elegant. Just as he’d thought to comment on how stunning she looked, she leaned forward and enveloped his shaft in her mouth.

“Ngh!” Tristan groaned, and his thighs tensed.

She glanced up at him, eyes locking his, glittering with satisfaction while she teased him with her tongue. He’d learned during their first encounters together that she was a fast, attentive learner. Every noise that escaped him encouraged her, and if silence drew on for too long, she adjusted her machinations. His breath caught in his throat, and goosebumps peppered his legs. He rested a hand in her hair, tracing the soft outline of her ear. She leaned into his palm, humming as she descended the length of him.

Ara’s mouth reached his base, and he gasped. Her throat was searing hot, tight, and soft. Her tongue danced along the base of his shaft and lapped at the veins beneath the head as if she knew every spot that would drive him wild. His heart pounded against his chest and his eyes fought between staying on her face and rolling backward.

“That feels so good, Ara,” he moaned. “God, please don’t stop.”

Ara chuckled, her laugh vibrating through him. She slowly raised and lowered her head, dragging her tongue along every inch that forced a gasp with each rotation. Every thought that plagued him vanished, replaced by a desperate need for release. The sight of her bent over him, her clear blue eyes flickering to his, her hair draped over her shoulder…

“I’m gonna come.” It was a sudden sensory overload, and there was no way he could hold back.

Ara sped her movements, keeping a delicious pressure against his base and forcing him over the edge. Tristan’s back arched, and his toes curled. She lapped and sucked at him until she’d swallowed every drop. His lips and fingers felt numb.

She sat up and licked her lips with a teasing half-smile. Sliding her underwear free, she positioned her hips over his and reached for his still-erect shaft. The soft, vulnerable skin between her thighs parted around the head of his cock, sending a new, desperate desire through his veins.

Just as she lowered her hips, the gravity of what she was about to do hit him. “W-wait. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t want a kitten with anyone else, Tristan. I’ll have plenty of help.” She bent forward and nibbled his lower lip, her voice dropping to a purr. “And if you don’t take me right now, I’m going to scream.”

Tristan grabbed her hips and thrust into her. Their cries harmonized, ringing in Tristan’s ears and echoing against the walls.

“You’re really deep,” Ara whimpered, her thighs trembling around his. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she giggled nervously. “I don’t know if I can move.”

“Then just relax,” he replied.

“N-no. Let me.” She slowly sat up, moaning with the new position. “Mnnh. I feel so full.”

“You feel amazing, Ara,” Tristan breathed. Every twitch and shift of her body resonated into his.

“So do you.” She slowly rocked her hips, drawing as far away as she could before advancing once more. Her breathing skipped, and her face flushed.

“Take this off,” Tristan said, tugging on one of the cups of her bra.

Ara paused her rhythm, reaching behind her to unhook the clasp before tossing it to the side. Tristan rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to knead her breast. She bit her lower lip, curling her tail around her lower back and resting it against his fingers on her thigh.

He smiled and took her tail into his palm, running his hand along the plush fur while teasing her hardened nipple. Her chin lulled forward, and she resumed the deliberate thrusts of her hips.

Watching Ara’s face gave Tristan more pleasure than he could say. The way she clenched and relaxed her eyes with every rotation of her hips. How she’d switch between biting her lip and gasping for breath. The thin sheen of sweat across her brow. He captured every instance like a photograph, hoping he could scrape together enough materials to draw her later.

“I’m close,” Ara murmured, leaning heavier into his touch and thrusting faster against him.

“Then come,” Tristan encouraged, massaging her breast and tail, trying to hold back his own quickly building climax.

“I…I’m coming!” Ara squealed between rasped breaths. Her maddening pace and the sudden clenching of her body pushed him over the edge once more, stealing his orgasm with hers. She melted forward, pressing her chest to his and wrapping her arms around his back.

Holding her thighs, he thrust through his climax. For a few perfect seconds, their heartbeats aligned. He reveled in her cries and groaned when her teeth sunk into his shoulder.

When her jaw relaxed, he slowed to a halt before moving his arms to her lower back. She lifted her hips away from his, then straightened her petite form against his body. She tucked her head beneath his chin and traced the lines of his bicep with one finger.

“Tristan,” Ara whispered.

“Hm?”

“You…” she paused, swallowed, then began again. “You will return for me, won’t you?”

Tristan kissed the top of her head and tightened his embrace. “I’ll always come back for you.”

“Good.” She nodded and sighed, snuggling against his chest. “Good.”