Chapter 20 Senna
SENNA
The world blurs beneath us—trees and roads and distant mountains reduced to smears of color. I can't focus on any of it. Can only focus on the steady thrum of Lorenth's heartbeat beneath my ear, the iron grip of his arms around me, the heat of his magic wrapping us both against the brutal wind.
I'm shaking. Can't stop shaking.
The bond sits quiet in my chest. Not gone—I can feel it there, this faint whisper of him that proves we're connected—but muted.
Dampened. Like trying to hear music through thick walls.
The absence is wrong. I've only had the bond for a handful of days but it's already become part of me.
This constant reassurance that I'm not alone. That someone wants me. Chose me.
And Darian stole that.
My fingers dig harder into Lorenth's shoulders. He doesn't flinch. Just holds me tighter, wings beating with desperate speed as we race toward the city growing on the horizon.
He came for me.
Even when he couldn't feel the bond. Even when that connection went silent and he had no way of knowing if I was alive or dead or hurt. He searched. Found the pendant. Flew to the village and tore through anyone who stood between us.
Killed Darian with his bare hands.
The memory should horrify me. Should make me recoil from the violence, from the blood still drying on Lorenth's skin. But all I feel is this fierce, devastating relief. That someone finally put an end to it. That I don't have to be afraid anymore.
That Lorenth looked at me—beaten and bloodied in the village square—and still wanted me.
New Solas spreads beneath us now, all gleaming spires and winding streets. Lorenth angles toward the quieter residential quarter, wings tilting as he descends. His townhouse appears below, modest compared to the noble estates but still bigger than anywhere I've ever lived.
Home.
The word echoes through my thoughts, strange and precious. I've never had a real home. Just places I survived. Uncle's house where I was a burden. Darian's shop where I was property. Even Mira's apartment was temporary—somewhere safe to hide but never truly mine.
This is different.
Lorenth lands in the small courtyard behind his townhouse, boots hitting stone with barely a sound despite our speed. He doesn't put me down. Just adjusts his grip and heads for the back entrance, shouldering through the door like I weigh nothing.
The warmth inside hits immediately—residual heat from the hearth, the lingering scent of this morning's breakfast. Evidence of the life we started building. The bond we formed in his bed while dawn light streamed through the windows.
Was that really only this morning?
Feels like years. Like I've lived an entire lifetime in the hours since I left to walk through the city with Lora.
Lorenth carries me straight through the kitchen, past the sitting room, up the stairs to the bedroom we shared last night. He sets me gently on the bed—our bed—and steps back, storm-blue eyes scanning my face like he's searching for injuries his magic might have missed.
"Are you okay?"
The question is rough. Edged with something that sounds like fear. Like he's terrified I'll shatter if he looks away.
I should answer. Should tell him I'm fine, that the healing worked, that physically I'm better than I've been in months.
But the words stick in my throat. Because I'm not fine.
My body might be healed but I'm still shaking.
Still feel the phantom weight of the rope around my wrists, the sting of Darian's fist, the jeering crowd pressing closer.
Still feel that awful silence where the bond should be.
I reach for him instead.
My fingers catch in the blood-stained fabric of his shirt, pulling him back before he can retreat further. He freezes, muscles going rigid beneath my touch.
"Don't." My voice comes out hoarse. Wrecked. "Don't go."
"I'm not—" He stops, jaw working around whatever he was about to say. "I'm right here."
But he's too far away. Standing when I need him closer. Need to feel the solid reality of him, the proof that this isn't some fever dream conjured by pain and fear.
"Please." The word breaks on my lips. "I just—I can't believe you came for me."
Something shifts in his expression. Softens and hardens simultaneously, like he's fighting between tenderness and rage. His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing across cheekbones that should still be bruised.
"Of course I came." He leans over me, one knee bracing on the mattress. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I don't know." The honesty tastes bitter. "No one ever has before."
Uncle certainly didn't when Darian first started getting rough. The village didn't when he dragged me home from Mira's that first time, fist raised. Even Mira—who I love, who tried to help—couldn't actually do anything except offer refuge in an apartment that was never truly safe.
But Lorenth didn't hesitate.
He felt the bond go silent and tore the city apart looking for me. Found me. Destroyed the man who hurt me and promised violence to anyone who'd even think about following.
Protected me the way no one ever has.
My heart pounds against my ribs—this wild, desperate rhythm that has nothing to do with fear. The bond sits quiet but this ache in my chest, this overwhelming need, is all mine. Not magic. Not cosmic destiny. Just me wanting him with an intensity that steals breath.
I chose him when we bonded. Chose the protection and permanence he offered. But part of me—this small, damaged part that's spent years learning not to hope—didn't quite believe it could last. That someone like Lorenth could actually want someone like me.
He proved me wrong.
My hand lifts, fingers trembling as they trace the sharp line of his jaw. He's still covered in blood. Still has Darian's death written across his skin in rusty brown streaks. Should disgust me. Should make me flinch away from the violence he's capable of.
Instead I feel safe.
"I love you."
The confession falls into the space between us, quiet but absolute.
True in a way nothing else has been. Because this isn't the bond talking.
Isn't magic forcing emotion I don't feel.
This is mine—this terrifying, exhilarating certainty that I want him.
Choose him. Would choose him again even if the bond vanished completely.
Lorenth goes utterly still.
Then his face breaks into this wide, devastating smile. The kind I've never seen on him before—unguarded and bright and real. It transforms him from the controlled, disciplined warrior into something younger. Lighter.
Beautiful.
"I fell in love with you that first night."
My breath catches.
"At the festival." He shifts closer, both knees on the bed now, caging me in without trapping me. "When you laughed at me for hating the Moon Masquerade. When you suggested we make the most of an hour even though you had no idea who I was or what I could offer you."
His thumb traces my lower lip, careful of the split that's already healed.
"Bond or no bond, I wanted you." The words rumble through his chest, low and fierce. "Spent two weeks going mad trying to find you. Would have searched every godsdamned village on this continent if that's what it took."
"Lorenth—"
He kisses me before I can finish.
It's nothing like the others we've shared.
Nothing like the desperate passion in the garden during the festival or the careful tenderness after we bonded.
This is raw. Claiming. His mouth slants over mine with bruising intensity, tongue sweeping past my lips like he needs to taste me. Confirm I'm real. Here. His.
I kiss him back just as fiercely.
My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him down until his weight presses me into the mattress. The solid reality of him grounds me—chases away the lingering fear, the phantom pain, the awful silence where the bond should roar.
He groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. One hand tangles in my hair while the other braces beside my head, holding his full weight off me even as he deepens the kiss. Like he's trying to devour me and protect me simultaneously.
I arch up into him, needing more contact. More proof. More everything.
The kiss breaks only when breathing becomes impossible. Lorenth pulls back just far enough to gasp air, forehead pressed to mine. His eyes are molten—storm-blue gone dark with want and something deeper. Something that looks like the same devastating certainty currently tearing through my chest.
"Say it again." His voice is wrecked. Desperate. "Please."
"I love you." The words come easier this time. Still terrifying but true. "I choose you. Bond or—"
He captures my mouth again, swallowing the rest of the sentence. This kiss is slower. Thorough. His tongue slides against mine in lazy strokes that make heat pool low in my belly, chasing away the cold that's been sitting in my bones since Darian grabbed me.
I melt into it. Into him. Let the kiss consume everything else—the fear, the pain, the awful hours of thinking this might end before it truly began.
Lorenth shifts above me, settling more fully between my thighs. The movement presses his hips to mine and I can feel his hardness through the layers of fabric separating us. Evidence that he wants this. Wants me. Not because magic demands it but because he chooses to.
My hands release his shirt to slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath blood-stained fabric. He shudders under my touch, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along my jaw. Down my throat. Finding the hollow where my pulse races.
"Mine." The word is barely human. More growl than speech. "My mate. My soul."
Yes.
I tilt my head back, giving him better access as his teeth scrape over sensitive skin. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to mark. To claim.
"Yours," I breathe.
His answering groan vibrates against my throat. Then he's kissing me again—deep and possessive and absolutely devastating. Like he's trying to pour every ounce of feeling into the connection our mouths make since the bond between our souls sits muted.
I kiss him back with everything I have. Every fear transformed to fierce want. Every doubt burned away by the certainty that this—him, us, whatever we're building together—is real.
The bond might be silent but I don't need it.
Not when Lorenth kisses me like I'm the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. Not when his hands shake as they frame my face with devastating gentleness. Not when every touch, every breath, every whispered word confirms what I already know.
He loves me.
Chose me.
Will keep choosing me no matter what tries to tear us apart.