Chapter 15 Lorenth #2
"My mate needs clothing." I keep my voice level, but there's steel underneath. "Everything. Day dresses, evening gowns, tunics, trousers, undergarments, shoes. Whatever she wants."
The proprietor's eyebrows rise fractionally at the word mate, but she's smart enough not to comment. "Of course. Right this way, my lady."
Senna glances up at me, and I can feel her uncertainty through the bond. Like she's not sure she deserves this. Not sure it's real.
I lean down, brushing my lips against her temple. "Pick whatever you want. I'll take care of you."
She swallows hard, nods, and follows the proprietor toward the racks.
I stay back, watching as the woman pulls out dress after dress for Senna's inspection. She holds up a deep blue gown, then a forest green one, then something in wine-red that would look fucking incredible against her brown skin.
Senna touches the fabric like it might disappear if she's not careful. Gentle. Reverent.
How long has it been since anyone bought her something nice?
The thought makes my jaw clench. That bastard in the village had her for years and treated her like property. Like something to own and control and hurt. Never once thought to make her happy. Never once looked at her the way I'm looking at her now—like she's the most important thing in the room.
Fuck him. He's nothing. And if he ever comes near her again, I'll make sure he understands exactly what happens to people who hurt what's mine.
Senna emerges from behind a curtain in the wine-red dress, and my breath catches.
It fits her perfectly—tailored to her slim frame, cinching at the waist before flowing down to brush the floor. The neckline is modest but flattering, and the color makes her skin glow like polished bronze. She looks... gods, she looks like she belongs in a palace. Like royalty.
"What do you think?" She does a small turn, the skirt swirling around her legs.
"Perfect." The word comes out rough. "You're perfect."
A blush creeps across her cheeks, and I feel her pleasure through the bond—warm and sweet and a little shy.
"We'll take it," I tell the proprietor without looking away from Senna. "And the green one. And anything else she wants."
By the time we leave, I've spent nearly fifty nodals and Senna is wearing the wine-red dress with new leather boots and a cream-colored cloak. The rest will be delivered to my townhouse later tonight.
She's quiet as we walk, but not uncomfortable. Just... processing. I can feel it through the bond—this tentative happiness, like she's testing whether it's allowed.
"Hungry?" I ask.
She looks up, startled. "I... yes, actually."
Good. I want to feed her. Want to spoil her. Want to give her everything that bastard never did.
I steer her toward the market quarter, where the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread fills the air. Street vendors call out their wares—spiced tuskram on skewers, fried dough dusted with sugar, candied fruit that gleams like jewels.
Senna's eyes go wide, darting from stall to stall like she can't decide what to look at first.
"Pick something," I tell her.
"I don't..." She bites her lip. "I don't know what half of these things are."
Right. She's been stuck in a human village her whole life. Probably never had anything more exotic than bread and stew.
I guide her to a stall selling candied nimond beans—sweet and rich, with a hint of spice. The vendor, a gorgon with emerald scales, offers us a sample and Senna's face lights up when she tastes it.
"Oh." She covers her mouth, eyes widening. "That's... wow."
I buy her an entire bag.
We move through the market like that, stopping at every stall that catches her interest. I get her fried dough from a satyr vendor, roasted brimbark from a fae merchant, and a cup of something cold and fizzy that makes her laugh when the bubbles tickle her nose.
She's smiling. Really, genuinely smiling, and it does something dangerous to my chest.
This is what I wanted. This lightness. This joy. I want her to look at me the way she did at the Masquerade—like I'm someone worth knowing. Someone worth choosing.
Not because the bond forced her to, but because she wants to.
We end up at a small restaurant tucked between two larger buildings, with tables spilling out onto the cobblestone street and lanterns strung overhead. It's late afternoon now, the sun starting its descent toward the horizon, and the golden light makes everything look softer.
I pull out a chair for Senna and she sits, smoothing her new dress with a self-conscious gesture that makes me want to kiss her until she forgets to be nervous.
A server appears—a woman with nymph heritage with violet skin and pointed ears—and I order for both of us. Roasted zarryn with herbs, fresh bread, and a bottle of wine that I can't wait to see her try.
Senna watches me over the rim of her glass when it arrives, those storm-gray eyes thoughtful.
"What?" I lean back in my chair, wings shifting behind me.
"This is..." She gestures vaguely at the restaurant, the market, the city spread out around us. "This is a lot."
"You deserve a lot."
She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "I've barley known you more than a day."
"Doesn't matter." I reach across the table, catching her hand in mine. "The bond chose us. I chose you. And I'm going to spend every day proving that was the right choice."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "You already have."
The bond pulses between us, warm and content, and I feel her attraction like a physical thing. Not just the remnants of last night's passion, but something deeper. Real. She wants me. Wants this. Wants us.
And fuck, that feels good.
The food arrives and we eat slowly, talking about nothing and everything.
She tells me about growing up in the village, about her parents dying when she was young, about her uncle selling her off like livestock to settle a debt.
I tell her about Lora, about my bakeries, about how much I fucking hate crowds and social politics.
She laughs at that—light and musical, a sound I want to bottle and keep forever.
"I'm still shocked you came to the Masquerade," she teases.
"Wait til you meet my sister." I grimace. "She wouldn't let it go. Kept saying I needed to get out more, meet people. I thought I wouldn't make it the hour I promised her."
"And you stayed all night."
"Because of you." I brush my thumb over her knuckles. "The moment I saw you, I knew I wasn't leaving without you."
She ducks her head, that blush creeping back across her cheeks. "You didn't even see my face."
"Didn't need to. I felt it—here." I press my free hand over my heart. "The bond. Like something in me recognized something in you."
She meets my eyes, and there's no fear in them now. Just warmth. Affection. Trust.
"I felt it too," she admits quietly. "I thought I was going crazy."
"Not crazy. Just fated."
We finish eating as the sun sets, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose. Senna leans back in her chair, wine-flushed and relaxed in a way I haven't seen her before. Happy.
This can work, I realize. This strange, impossible thing between us—it can actually work.
The bond thrums its agreement, settling deeper into my chest like it's been waiting for me to catch up.
I signal that we are done and stand, offering Senna my hand. "Come on. Let's go home."
She takes it without hesitation, rising gracefully in her new dress. "Home," she repeats, testing the word. "I like the sound of that."
So do I.