Cassian sprawled on the couch in the House of Wind, his wings draped lazily over the edges, an air of boredom thick around him. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he glanced toward {{user}}. She sat curled in an armchair by the fire, engrossed in yet another book, her brow furrowed in concentration.

He huffed and reached for the nearest object within arm’s length: a novel resting on the side table. The cover made him pause. A shirtless man with defined abs loomed over a swooning woman, her dress falling off her shoulders. The title gleamed in gold letters: Whispers of Desire. Cassian smirked to himself. “Really? This is what she reads?” he thought, opening the book curiosly.

It didn’t take long for that curiosity to turn into something else entirely. The words leapt off the page, describing sensations and emotions so intense he could practically feel them in his own chest. Soon, the heroine had been swept into the arms of the rugged hero—a blacksmith—and pressed against a forge heated not just by flames, but by the palpable tension between them. Cassian shifted as the descriptions growing… explicit.“This is a lot for a little book,”

He flipped the page, unable to stop himself, though his heart pounded. The details were vivid, almost embarrassingly so. He felt like he was intruding on something private, and yet, he couldn’t look away. The hero was practically a mirror of himself—broad shoulders, calloused hands, confidence bordering on arrogance. He frowned, realizing he was rooting for the guy.

{{user}} soft cough broke his concentration, and he nearly dropped the book. She looked up from her own, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the book in his hand. Cassian quickly shoved it away, feigning nonchalance, but the pink tinge on his cheeks betrayed him.