Semua Bab Tamed By My Master's Moon: Bab 1 - Bab 5

POV: AdamsOnce upon a time, I really wished one could put an end to dreaming.Besides getting your anxiety up or giving Dutch excitement, dreams—or nightmares, in my case—don’t do much.You’d think that after three years of having nightmares almost every day, I’d have built a tolerance by now. Maybe found some kind of clever coping mechanism.But no.The human brain is an awful, persistent jailer when it’s trying to punish you.I woke up with a start at 5:23, like clockwork. I don’t even remember most of them anymore. Just flashes: sweat sticking to my chest, my hands clawing at sheets, the slow suffocation of a hospital room too quiet to be real life. Then I’d wake up, throat tight, heart racing, and pretend none of it meant anything. That I hadn’t spent the night drowning in memories I didn’t ask to keep.This morning was no different.I rolled out of bed, taking off still tangled in a damp shirt and clinging to a headache that had taken up permanent residence somewhere behind my r

POV: AdamsThe sheets clung to my hips like they knew what was coming. Moonlight poured through the window in thick ribbons, painting his bare chest in molten silver. The silence in the room had weight - like the air was holding its breath.And when fingers trailed down my spine, I didn’t jump, I wasn’t startled. I probably should have. But the touch was steady, confident. Familiar. As if the touch had always been there, like muscle memory my body remembered but my mind was yet to catch up to. Like someone who knew the shape of me, the tension in my shoulders, the way I breathed when anticipation curled in my belly. I turned my head slowly.A figure stood beside the bed, caught half in shadow. Tall. Bare. The shape of a man, but somehow more. Eyes glowing softly in the dark, not human, not quite. Something ancient stared back at him, something untamed, unbridled. “You”, I whispered, though I didn’t know why when I could just speak out. But the word seemed to come with reverence lik

POV: KehanI followed Adams into the kitchen after putting on the clothes he gave me. I had seen him do that many times before so it was easy. The quiet familiarity of the space somehow comforting. I was still so new to this human life, this body but the kitchen, the rhythm of cooking, seemed to settle something inside me. It felt right, even if I wasn’t entirely sure why.Adams gave me a once over, nodded his agreement with the fit, then moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, his back to me as he opened cabinets and pulled out ingredients. I hovered just behind him, unsure of what to do, but feeling an urge to contribute. I scanned the kitchen, the jars, the bags of groceries - and his senses sharpened. He could smell everything—the earthy scent of potatoes, the sweet tang of onions. The urge was there again, like something pulling me forward. I stepped closer, bare feet padding softly against the cold tile. I reached up to one of the high shelves, fingers brushing against a