Chapter 7
Sienna
I’ve never felt so comfortable, so connected to another person in my entire life.
I thought it might fade once we left the bedroom, that the change in setting might lessen it, but it’s only grown.
Sol moves just slightly ahead of me down the hallway, and I can't help but watch him.
The way his muscles shift beneath his gray skin with each step, powerful and precise.
How he walks so carefully, as if he's constantly aware of his size and strength, moderating every movement so he doesn't accidentally break something or someone.
His tail and wings are tucked against his back, but I can see them move subtly with his breathing, the membranes catching the soft light. And his height—God, he's so tall that even walking behind him, I have to tilt my head back to see his face properly.
He’s mesmerizing.
It's more than the mate bond he described, more than a supernatural compulsion. It's in the way he looks at me, like I'm someone that's irreplaceable, the person he's waited lifetimes to find. In how he listens when I speak, how he gives me his complete attention as if my words are sacred to him.
And frankly, I’m not any better. I'm enchanted, enthralled, captivated by him. So much so, that even if this were a spell that I could break, I wouldn't want to.
Sol glances over his shoulder, catching me staring, and something warm flickers in his amber eyes. "Are you alright?"
My cheeks heat at being caught. "Yeah, of course.”
A smile curves his lips, transforming his entire face. Then, without warning, he turns and scoops me into his arms.
I squeak, instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. "What are you doing? Put me down, Sol! I'm too heavy!" Sitting on his lap was one thing, carrying me is another. No one has ever been able to pick me up, much less carry me around.
His expression shifts to one of offense, something flashing in his eyes.
"No." The word is firm, absolute. "You are not too heavy.
You are perfect exactly as you are, and I could carry you across this entire city without growing tired.
You, Sienna, are the most exquisité thing in this universe.
Do not insult yourself by thinking negatively about yourself or repeating the lies of people who were never worthy of you. "
The intensity and assurance in his voice makes me speechless. He's not just disagreeing with me—he's angry on my behalf, furious at everyone who ever made me feel like I was too much.
"Okay," I whisper, my heart beating a little harder.
He adjusts his hold, cradling me against his broad chest with a gentleness that contrasts his obvious strength.
This close, I can smell him—earth and stone and something wild, like wind before a storm.
It's intoxicating, primal, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in his neck and just breathe him in.
Everything about him is attractive. Seductive.
The hard planes of his body beneath my hands, the veins in his muscular arms. The way his jaw tenses when he looks at me, the way his eyes glow amber when he’s feeling a strong emotion, how his long black hair tickles my skin.
It's like he was made specifically for me, designed to fit and fill all my jagged edges and broken pieces.
Mine, something possessive whispers in the back of my mind. He's mine.
The thought should probably concern me, but it fills me with fierce joy. Because if he’s mine, if he wants to be mine, then does it really matter how long we've known each other, how fast this is all happening, or what the future holds?
I hug him a little tighter, pressing my body firmly against his. If I could, I’d bury myself beneath his skin.
His breath hitches, and for a moment he stops walking, and I can’t help but grin against his neck.
Sol spreads his wings, moving through the penthouse, and I begin to actually pay attention to the space around us.
The hallway is wide—wide enough for Sol's impressive wingspan to extend fully without touching the walls. The ceilings are at least twelve feet high, maybe more, clearly built to accommodate someone his size.
The walls are painted in a soft dove gray, just like the bedroom, soothing and neutral. In fact, everything in this house is in a neutral tone—taupe, warm whites, gentle beiges. The furniture is plush, with throw blankets on several pieces that all look perfect to cuddle into.
It's beautiful. Peaceful. The kind of space that’s so cozy you never want to leave. But something about it bothers me.
Sol carries me past an open doorway, and I catch a glimpse of what must be the living area—massive windows currently covered by heavy curtains, a sectional that could seat ten people, everything in those same soothing tones.
"This place is fit for a king," I murmur.
Sol's arms tighten around me slightly. "It's not for a king."
I look up at him, and there's something vulnerable in his expression as if he’s both scared and hopeful at the same time.
“What do you mean? Don’t you live here?”
“I… didn’t make it for me.”
I pull back slightly but he refuses to meet my gaze. And that's when it clicks.
The neutral colors, the blankets, the softness, the care and consideration in every nook of this place, it doesn’t fit him.
If I had to imagine a place for Sol, it would be with dark colors, navy, forest green, wood textures, concrete countertops—masculine—but this?
Outside of the wide and open spaces nothing about it feels like him. It feels perfect for a woman.
"Sol," I say softly, cupping his jaw, to make him look at me. "What do you mean?"
Gently, he sets me on my feet, then kneels in front of me to meet my eyes. “I made this place… for you.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs.
For me.
The thought seems impossible, but the proof of it is all around me. All of this... all of it was designed for me.
A stranger he'd been searching for. Someone he'd never spoken to, never touched, never heard laugh or seen cry. And yet he'd spent a year preparing a home for me.
My throat tightens. Tears burn my eyes. "Sol..."
"I know it may not be right.” He fidgets, then runs his hand through his long black hair. “You may not like some of it, any of it." His voice trembles slightly, as if he’s scared that it’s both too much and not enough.
How could he ever believe that? Ever think that when this is the greatest gift someone has ever given me?
“I know I shouldn’t have presumed, but I couldn’t help myself.
” He takes in a shaky breath. “Every night I’d come back from searching for you, from failing to find you, and I just..
. wanted to do something for you. Something to show you that you were always on my mind, always my priority.
I thought about what you might need, what might make you comfortable and happy. ”
His hands flex at his sides, as if he wants to reach for me.
"I wanted you to have a place that was yours. Where you felt safe. Where you could smile and be warm. Be at peace. Not because you’re mine, or because I want anything from you, or even because I hope that in the end, you’ll choose me.
But because this is the least of what you deserve.
I want to provide for you." he says, and there's not a shred of doubt in his voice.
"I’d give you the world if you ever asked me for it. "
The tears spill over before I can stop them.
My parents wanted me to fit their image. James wanted me to be convenient. Aubrey wanted me to take care of her. And me? I wanted to be needed.
But Sol? Sol doesn’t need me. He wants me. He’s choosing me.
He cups my face with such gentleness it makes me cry harder. But his expression shifts—something dangerous sliding behind his eyes as he wipes mine so carefully.
My lips and throat suddenly feel dry, and I can't help but turn away from him as shame and embarrassment fill me.
Sol grabs my chin, tilting my face back to his. "I hate what you went through, what your life has been like, but I am grateful that you told me that you trusted me with your past."
He's not judging me or looking at me any differently.
I swallow hard as the realization washes over me.
He sat there and held me, let me stumble through the most painful parts of my life.
He didn't rush me, didn't try to fix it.
He just listened, and held that anger for me, while giving me the space to share it on my own terms.
"I hate them, Sienna. I thought of killing them for you. I would do it happily, if you wished. Make it slow. Make them understand exactly what they took from you. Make them hurt in the same ways they’ve hurt you and beg for a mercy I would never grant.
Just say the word, and they will cease to exist."
The fire in his eyes matches the barely restrained anger in his tone. He means it. He would really leave right now and kill them if I told him to.
I should be horrified, but I’m not. Because for the first time in my life, someone is validating my pain with fury.
For so long, I blamed myself for all the things I didn't see, all the ways I let myself be used, abused, and fooled. I didn't think I had a right to be angry at anyone else, because if I was smarter or had worked harder, maybe my life would have been better. But with Sol, that's not even a thought.
To him, I deserve to be enraged, to have my wrath honored with retribution. And there's something… beautiful about having someone look at what was done to me and say, “they need to pay for that.”
With Sol, I feel like I can crumble and he’ll help me pick up the pieces. Like I can fall and he’ll catch me. And yet, as much as I appreciate his anger, I don’t want him to feel that way.
"No," I finally say. "That's not what I want. Not because of them but because of you."
He frowns, eyebrows scrunching and it makes me giggle. I wrap my arms around him and he instantly embraces me. He pulls me into his body, and I lean into his warmth like a moth drawn to a flame.
"You've fought enough battles, Sol. I don't want you to do that for my sake again."
His arms tighten around me. "There is no battle I wouldn't fight if it meant keeping you safe, not just your mind or body, but your heart and your honor.
" His voice drops lower, raw with conviction.
"If I had found you first—before that bastard ever laid eyes on you—you would be wearing my ring right now.
You would have never known what it felt like to be betrayed, to be abandoned.
To be thrown away like you were nothing.
Because I would have treasured you from the start. "
Tears cloud my vision. It's too much. All of it is too much. I know it could be the wrong thing to do, offering my heart, my life, to someone again. But I don’t care anymore. I can’t contain the feelings that have been consuming every fiber of my being from the moment I laid eyes on Sol.
He is everything I could ever want and so much more than I dreamt of. Not because of what he’s promised or what he’s done. It’s him.
The way he smells, the way he smiles, how this incredibly dangerous creature cares about me—and not just me, but this world.
The way he takes responsibility for his actions, the guilt he carries that doesn't belong to him. How he’s so careful, as if everything he touches will break, when he’s saved people, saved me.
It’s in how he self-sacrifices, and how deeply I never want to see him do that again.
All of the care that Sol’s shown me? The devotion? The promise of a lifetime of love? I want to give that back to him, ten—no—one hundred, one thousand-fold. And right now, in this moment? The fear of that being a mistake is gone. There’s no space for it, not with the love I feel for him.
I don’t need to think about it any longer, because for the first time in my life, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is the right thing to do.
So I cup his face, take in the soft warmth in his amber eyes, then press my lips to his.
For a moment, Sol goes completely still. Then he gathers me close, pressing me against him as if he can’t bear to let even a wisp of air between us.
He kisses me as if he’s been dying of a thirst that only I can quench.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. I curve into him, filling any space between us because I can’t get enough of him.
This is what I want. The sweet taste of him on my lips, my fingers in his silky hair, as he cups the back of my neck with one hand, lifting me with the other. I wrap my legs around him as he grips my ass and carries me to the kitchen counter, never once breaking our kiss.
I love the feeling of him against me, the hard planes of his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, his erection pressing against my core. He’s so fucking big and I’m not willing for today to end without his cock buried in my pussy.
He pulls back and I whimper at the loss of him.
I twine my arms around his neck, trying to pull him to me once more, but he grips my hips, squeezing hard to keep us separated.
"Sienna—" he breathes "—If we continue, if we—" He swallows hard. "Once we start down this path, I may not be able to stop and—"
"I don't want you to stop," I whisper.
“Sienna,” he says again, his voice strained as if he’s praying for control. “I don’t want you to regret this later. To regret being with me.”
How could anyone ever regret you?
Gently, I trace his cheek. “I won’t. I know I won’t. I want you, I want this, Sol,” I tighten my arms around his neck. “And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
A low growl rumbles through his chest as his voice drops low, possessive, and the way his eyes darken sends shivers down my spine. "Then let me take care of you, my precious dawn. Let me show you how you should be treasured."