“Where the gods keep office hours”

In the private cabin of Tarmo’s jet, somewhere over Mali, Elena collapses. What follows is not a dream.

I press my palms flat against the tile, lower my head, and let the water wash over me for a while. But under the relief, the same question bubbles up—the one I’ve been circling since the hotel:

Where to, girl? Where do you carry this story next?

A soft knock breaks through the rush of water. I shut the shower off, wring out my hair once, then step into one of the thick towels folded nearby. When I open the cabin door, I find what’s been set out for me on the bed: a fresh dress, new undergarments, and—of all things—genuine breast pads, wrapped up neatly, like medical offerings at an altar.

I smirk, shaking my head at the thoughtfulness laced with surveillance. But before I can reach for the garments, a sudden dizziness overcomes me. The edges of the room dissolve, tilting inward, folding in—until I collapse onto the floor, consciousness spiralling elsewhere.

When I open my eyes, I’m barefoot on soft earth. Before me, a lake shimmers—moonlight rippling across its surface. I know this place: Lake Fundizi. And there, standing motionless on the shore, is Asdar.

His expression flickers into surprise as his gaze sweeps me. Of course—I’m naked.

“Well,” I grumble, crossing my arms instinctively over myself. “Couldn’t you choose a more appropriate moment?”

Asdar’s lips curve in an apologetic smile, his voice low and resonant. “I am deeply sorry, my love. But you are a heavenly sight for my eyes.”

For a moment, his deep amber eyes shift, brightening into liquid gold—feral and wolfish. But then, with visible effort, he reins it back, features softening into priestly composure.

“I understand you’re still in Mali?” he asks.

“Yes,” I sigh, my shoulders lowering. “But not for long. Tarmo has come.”

At that, Asdar inclines his head, unshaken. “Ah. That is good.”

I snap my gaze up, sharp, searching. I study him—the young Dacian priest with that lingering gold in his eyes—and feel myself torn, resentment warring with longing.

His voice gentles, every word rich with sincerity. “I have missed you in the shadows, Elena. And I know I have left you in Karim’s care. His soul is still young, yes, yet his love for you is immense. I am glad he walks by your side.”

I swallow, heart snagging on the unexpected kindness. Asdar’s presence, immense as always, feels neither possessive nor bitter in this moment.

“You are lucky to have him,” he continues, urgency rumbling through his tone. “But luck isn’t enough. It is time, Elena. Time to move this way.”

Asdar reaches for me, slowly at first, his fingertips skimming my shoulders as though even in this astral place, I might dissolve if touched too fiercely. I hesitate—half-cross, half-melting—but as his deep amber eyes flare with that golden animal light, the pull feels inevitable.

“My Elena,” he whispers, voice thrumming with devotion and hunger, “come closer.”

Before I can reply, his lips find mine. His hands close over my oozing breasts, gliding down to my belly. Asdar growls, low and feral.

The kiss is deep—shockingly real. Heat surges through me like fire kindling in water, a torrent of memory, desire, and belonging flooding my body at once.

Then—

The lake, the moonlight, the gleaming wolf’s gaze—everything is ripped away, sucked out like breath.

My eyes fly open. The cabin ceiling arches overhead.

I.Ph.

© 2026 I.Ph. de Lange All rights reserved. Published by CYcrds OÜ.