Chapter 5
LORENTH
The bond doesn't lie.
Serai's words echo in my skull like a death knell. Or a blessing. I can't fucking tell which.
I came here because Lora wore me down. Because she was relentless and I was tired and I thought—fuck, I thought nothing would come of it. That I'd suffer through an hour of this madness, go home, and forget the whole damn thing ever happened.
But I've been standing in this square for hours now.
Hours. Watching Senna's face light up at every new thing she sees, listening to her laugh, feeling her hand in mine like it was made to fit there.
And the whole time, there's been this pull.
This inexplicable, consuming need to stay close to her.
To touch her. To make sure no one else gets near her.
I thought it was just attraction. Thought I was finally feeling something again after years of shutting myself down, of focusing on duty and business and keeping House Varyon afloat. Thought maybe I just wanted her because she's beautiful and bright and so fucking alive it hurts to look at her.
But now Serai's named it. Given shape to this thing clawing at my chest.
Soulmate.
The word tastes like ash and honey all at once.
I look down at Senna, still clutched against my side, and her face has gone pale beneath the mask. Her eyes—those storm-gray eyes that have been full of wonder all night—are wide with something that looks dangerously close to panic.
Shit.
I'm going to kill Serai for this. For saying it out loud before either of us was ready. Before I could figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with this information.
"Come on." My voice comes out rougher than I intend, and I guide Senna away from the booth before Serai can say anything else. Before she can make this worse.
The noise of the square presses in around us—laughter and music and the hum of magic thick in the air. Too loud. Too crowded. Senna's breathing too fast beside me, and I need to get her somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can actually think.
I weave us through the festival, past the booths and performers and couples lost in each other. My wings flex instinctively, blocking out anyone who gets too close, and I don't stop until we're at the edge of the square where the cobblestones give way to grass.
A garden sprawls ahead of us, tucked behind a low stone wall. Lanterns hang from the trees, their light soft and golden, casting shadows that dance across carefully tended flower beds. It's quieter here—the festival noise muffled by distance and magic.
Perfect.
I pull Senna through the entrance, past rose bushes heavy with blooms that glow faintly in the dark. When we're deep enough that I can't see the square anymore, I stop and reach for my magic.
It comes easily, a familiar burn in my veins. I shape it with practiced precision, throwing up a shield around us. Nothing fancy—just enough to keep anyone from stumbling into this space. To give us privacy.
The air shimmers faintly where the barrier settles, and then we're alone.
Senna pulls her hand from mine, wrapping her arms around herself. She still won't look at me. Won't meet my eyes.
And that—fuck, that scares me more than Serai's words did.
"Are you okay?" I keep my voice low, careful.
She nods, but it's not convincing. Her shoulders are hunched, her head bowed, and I can see her fingers digging into her own arms hard enough to leave marks.
Without thinking, I step closer. Reach for her.
My fingers brush her chin, tilting her face up toward mine. I want to see her. Need to see her. The mask hides too much, those silver petals beautiful but in the way, and it would be so easy to just—
No.
I force my hand to still, my thumb resting against her jaw instead. Touching her feels like breathing. Like the first full breath I've taken in years. But I'm not going to push. Not going to take more than she's willing to give.
Even if every instinct I have is screaming at me to pull that mask off and kiss her until neither of us can think straight.
"What's wrong?" The question comes out softer than I expected.
She finally looks at me, and the emotion in her eyes hits me hard. Fear. Confusion. And underneath it all, something that looks dangerously close to longing.
"I don't—" Her voice cracks. "I don't understand what's happening."
"Neither do I." Honesty seems like the only option here.
"But you felt it? What she said?" Senna searches my face, and I wonder what she sees. What she's looking for.
I should lie. Should tell her Serai's full of shit, that the Nashai just like to stir up drama and make people believe in fairy tales. That tonight was just—what? A dance? A coincidence?
But I can't.
"Yeah." The admission scrapes out of me. "I felt it."
Her breath hitches, and for a moment I think she's going to pull away. Going to run back to whatever life she came from and leave me standing here with this ache in my chest that I don't know how to name.
Instead, she surges forward.
Her arms wrap around my neck and then her mouth is on mine and—
Fuck.
Nothing has ever felt more right than this.
Senna kisses like she's drowning and I'm air. Like she's been waiting her whole life for this and can't wait another second. Her lips are soft and desperate and perfect, and I'm kissing her back before I can think, before I can question it.
My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, and she makes this sound—half gasp, half moan—that goes straight to my cock.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting her. She tastes like winter-berries and wine and something uniquely her, something I want to drown in. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, and I groan into her mouth.
She responds by pressing closer, her body flush against mine, and I can feel every curve of her through the thin fabric of her dress. The way her chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. The heat of her skin even through the layers between us.
I want more.
Want everything.
My hand slides up her spine, mapping the delicate ridges of bone, the dip of her lower back. She shivers under my touch, and I swallow the soft whimper she makes, claiming it. Claiming her.
Her leg hooks around my hip, and that's it. That's all it takes for my control to snap.
I lift her in one smooth motion, pressing her back against the garden wall. Smooth stone cool against my palm as I brace one hand there to keep us upright, the other gripping her thigh to hold her in place.
She wraps both legs around me now, locking her ankles behind my back, and the feel of her like this—clinging to me, trusting me to hold her—makes my head spin.
I pull back just enough to breathe, to look at her, and she's gorgeous. Flushed and panting, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with want. The silver-blue of her dress shimmers in the lantern light, and those layered petals of her mask catch the glow, making her look ethereal.
Like something I don't deserve but can't let go of.
"Lorenth." My name is a plea on her lips, and I kiss her again before she can say anything else.
Harder this time. Deeper.
I kiss her like I'm trying to memorize the shape of her mouth, the way she responds to me. The little sounds she makes when I nip at her lower lip or when my hand tightens on her thigh.
She meets me stroke for stroke, giving as good as she gets. Her nails dig into my shoulders, scratching through the fabric of my tunic, and the slight sting of it makes me groan.
I want to feel her nails on bare skin. Want to strip away every barrier between us until there's nothing left but heat and need and this consuming pull that's been building all night.
My world tilts. Shifts. Like everything I thought I knew is rearranging itself around this one truth: Senna is mine.
The thought should terrify me. Should make me pull back and think rationally about what the hell I'm doing.
But it doesn't.
It feels inevitable. Like gravity. Like breathing.
I kiss my way along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she gasps. Her head falls back against the wall, giving me better access, and I take full advantage. Teeth and tongue and lips working over her skin until she's trembling in my arms.
"Please." Her voice is wrecked, barely a whisper. "Lorenth, please."
I don't know what she's asking for, but I'll give her anything. Everything.
My hand slides higher on her thigh, fingers brushing the edge of her dress where it's ridden up, and she makes this broken sound that nearly undoes me.
I want to take my time. Want to worship every inch of her until she forgets her own name. But I also want to devour her. Want to consume her until there's no space left between us, until we're so tangled together neither of us knows where one ends and the other begins.
I settle for somewhere in between, kissing her like I'm starving for it. Like she's the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground.
Her fingers find the edge of my mask, and for a second I think she's going to pull it off. But she just traces the navy edge of it, her touch reverent, before sliding her hand back into my hair.
The silver threads woven through my tunic catch on her dress as we move together, creating friction that makes us both groan. I press closer, rolling my hips against hers, and she gasps into my mouth.
Fuck, I need—
I need to stop. Need to slow down before I lose myself completely.
But I can't.
Can't stop kissing her. Can't stop touching her. Can't pull away from the heat of her body pressed against mine or the way she's clinging to me like I'm the only solid thing in her world.
I shift my grip, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other still braced against the wall. My wings flex behind me, instinctively curving forward to shield us from view even though the barrier I threw up already does that.
Protective. Possessive.
Mine.
The word echoes through me with every beat of my heart, every stroke of my tongue against hers.