Chapter 5 #2
I have to step away before I do something we'll both regret. I force myself to move, to leave her side just long enough to fetch something for her to wear.
In my closet, I select my finest shirt—black silk, never worn, purchased with the hope that someday I might have a reason to care about my appearance. The material is cool and smooth against my fingers, worthy of touching her skin. Nothing but the best for my precious dawn.
I return and dress her in the silk shirt as gently as I can, doing my best to ignore the temptation of her soft skin. The fabric swallows her, falling past her thighs. Only then do I notice the blood and dirt staining the ivory sheets beneath her.
I lift her carefully, cradling her against my chest, before setting her in a nearby chair while I strip the bed and replace the linens with fresh ones.
Once the bed is ready, I place her between the sheets, tucking her in and arranging the pillows and blankets to keep her comfortable.
I don't want to leave her side again, but I have so many questions about her—who she is, what she likes, what makes her happy. Her life, her struggles, her joys. I need to understand what shaped her into the radiant being who called to me.
Moving to the nightstand, I open her purse and gently remove her wallet, extract her ID, memorizing every detail of her face in the photo, committing her full name to memory.
Sienna Nicole Gallagher.
I trace the photo on her ID then return it exactly as I found it, and with one last glance at my precious dawn, I force myself to leave the room.
Once I enter my office and sit down at my desk, I run a background check.
It reveals that she moved here alone, works at an occult shop called Sage & Stone in the Village, and that even though she lives in a tiny studio in the Bronx in one of the city's poorest neighborhoods, her rent consumes nearly half her monthly income.
The thought of her struggling in that cramped space, worrying about her next meal, living paycheck to paycheck while I lived in luxury makes me clench my fists.
She'll never want for anything again.
When I check her social media profiles, they appear inactive. She hasn't posted anything in a year. And then I get to a post from two years ago.
In it, my precious dawn looks incredulous. Her fiery hair whips around her face from a wild breeze and her brilliant green eyes shine from fresh tears. She looks so happy I almost miss it, the small diamond engagement ring on her left hand.
The caption reads: "He asked! I said yes! Can't wait to marry my best friend. #engaged #love #future"
She was taken.
My fangs extend past my lips as a deep, dark growl escapes my throat. My claws bite into the desk, leaving deep gouges in the wood, as my whole body trembles. Someone else had her heart. Someone else made her smile like that. Someone else—
Wait...
I look at the date once more. It was before I awakened, before she ever made the trip to New York.
What happened between then and now?
I scroll through the comments, looking for clues. Friends congratulating her, heart emojis, nothing useful, until one comment stands out: "Love you, babe. Can't wait to call you my wife."
I clench my fists, it's the only way to keep myself from snapping the computer screen in two.
Instead, I navigate to James Reuben’s profile.
I'm confused by the recent photos. They're of a wedding, his wedding, and the woman by his side shares the same color of Sienna's green eyes. But when I follow the tag on the photo and see that it’s her sister all the pieces start to come together.
He married her sister. Not only that, but they have a baby together.
They betrayed her.
The blood in my veins turns to ice as I stare at James's profile. My vision narrows until all I see are their faces, smiling, happy, celebrating a life built on my precious dawn's pain.
No demon I've ever encountered has committed a sin this unforgivable.
A plan starts to hatch in my mind.
James is active on social media. Finding his workplace is easy, the same with his favorite restaurant. It's not far from here, not with my wings.
I could go there and rip what little spine he has left from his weak body. It wouldn't even take me an hour. My precious dawn wouldn't even have to know.
But beneath the cold rage, something stirs. Something that curves my fury and makes the mate bond sing with vicious satisfaction.
I'm certain she feels hurt, possibly even left alone in this world when she should have been protected, loved, adored, honored. But she's free. Free to be mine if I can prove myself worthy. And I will. I will.
Navigating back to her profile, I scroll to before the engagement, when her posts were different—a coffee shop or the sunset with poetry captions or quotes from classic novels—small, quiet glimpses of a woman who found beauty in simple things.
It doesn't give me much to go on, but at least I know a few things that she enjoys.
I place an order for every food item available at the grocery store. Adding two of everything, from snacks to deli meats, chocolate, multiple bags of coffee, and herbal teas.
Then, I buy the most expensive phone, laptop, and tablet I can find and pay extra for same-day delivery. I don’t want her to feel like a prisoner, shut off from the world while she's here with me.
I find the full novels of the poetry quotes she loved and purchase them. In my search, I find articles stating that if someone has more than a thousand books, their collection will be deemed a library.
Turning, I check the shelves in the office. There's enough space, but even if there wasn't I'd simply build her more.
I smile at the thought of her having her own personal library. Imagine her face lighting up as she discovers each title, her fingers trailing over spines, finding solace in stories. Maybe we could even read them together.
I set off adding the top one hundred books of each genre to my cart. Unfortunately, they won't arrive until tomorrow, but I can't think about how tomorrow, our tomorrow, isn't guaranteed.
I've begged and hoped for so long that one day someone would need me, choose me. And now I have that person and I can be everything I've always wanted to be for her. Her provider, her protector, her lover.
If I can convince her I'm worth the risk.
Please—I beg to the sky, the earth, to whatever deity is listening to me and would take pity on my heart, my life, my soul—please let her choose me. Please let her stay.