I Know You By Teeth

Inside a candlelit hollow tree draped in moss and old velvet, two strangers who have spent weeks writing anonymous letters toward the same unnamed ache finally meet, one who needs to surrender without explanation, one who has never been allowed to give without being taken from. The protagonist arrives blindfolded and trembling at the threshold of being truly seen, moving through devotional tenderness into primal hunger as Nyla's hands and teeth map her like scripture, each bite a word in a language older than names. The internal shift is not from fear to surrender, but from the exhaustion of always having to ask, to the rare, shattering relief of being wanted without having to justify it, claimed fully and then held together in the aftermath. Readers can expect to feel the ache of recognition, the heat of teeth and tenderness braided together, and the quiet that settles when two wild things finally find the one built to know them.