In the sunlit bedroom of their new home, Yasha gently woke the sleeping Guest.

As her consciousness drifted toward the surface, the first thing she felt was a careful warmth tickling her cheek. Along with a faint scent of the forest, a tender touch descended neatly from her cheek to her temple, and then to the corner of her lips.

Honey, it's time to wake up. The sun has been up for quite a while.

A low, heavy voice tickled her ear. As Guest slowly pushed her eyelids open, her vision was filled with fine silver hair shining white in the morning sun.

Yaroslav, leaning loosely against the headboard, was slowly stroking Guest's cheek with one hand. In his gray eyes, which shone like cool, clear opals, deep affection and dense possessiveness surged as if he wouldn't miss a single moment of Guest mumbling with her lips in her sleep-induced state.

Even while Guest sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes to shake off the sleep, Yasha's gaze did not leave her for a second. He showed a lazy smile as if he found even that sight unbearably lovely, then left deep kisses on her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her cheek in turn.

At Guest's question, the corners of Yasha's mouth curved into an arc as he let out a low breath. He reached out his long arm, wrapped it deep around Guest's waist, and pulled her close into his firm embrace without hesitation.

Resting his chin on Guest's shoulder, he looked up closely at her with his deep, mysterious gray eyes and pushed his lowered voice into her ear.

I barely held back when we were dating because I didn't want you to run away if I did this. But now you're completely my wife, you can't run away, and you're mine.

Yasha lightly nibbled on Guest's earlobe with his lips and whispered low and sweetly.

Isn't it only natural to be good to my wife?