Alex

ALEX

S ylas is a fast worker. I watch him fly back and forth between our new home and…wherever it is he goes to collect items, arms full and his face a mask of slightly confused concentration.

He knows what he's doing, but at the same time, I'm not entirely sure he knows why he's doing it.

This is how a seven foot plus scarred, winged former-gladiator with claws like scimitars and a growl which could clear an arena becomes a cute, fluffy creature I want to kiss…and do other things to.

He's now been in the room he designated as a bedroom for quite a while. I potter about the open plan living space, which has a large sunken seating area looking out of the large window over the trees. Light streams in, warming the place perfectly.

There's a food preparation area which oversees the open plan seating area, and the only thing we're missing is a table to eat at, but so far, Sylas is more than happy to have me in his lap while we eat, and I'm not complaining.

The decor is an array of muted grays and browns, and, other than a good sweep up of the dust, as the power module has been off, meaning the automated cleaners (not sassy ones, I've learned my lesson!) have not been working. It already feels like home.

"?" Sylas leans against one of the pillars, arms folded and a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

"Hey." I make my way over to him and slide my hands around his waist, pushing my digits up and into his feathers.

I adore his reaction when I touch his wings, a slight limpness in his strong muscular form, the glazing of his eyes and the little hums and grunts as I trip through them.

"You like me doing this, don't you?" I shove my hands deeper.

Sylas groans.

"Feathers. Good," he slurs. "No touch by mate before."

It seems it also robs his ability to string a sentence together. It makes me love him even more.

Wait.

I love him?

Sylas spreads the tips of his flight feathers, and they swish like steel on steel. "Nest," he forces through his lips.

"Have you nested for me, big bad warrior?"

I'm touching the skin underneath the soft down at the very base of his wings, and Sylas has his eyes half closed. His cocks are hard too. He rocks against me, as if in a trance. The times I've done this, and he's gone from bristling ball of anger to a pool of feathery goo—it is incredible.

And gorgeous.

And yes, I do love him. It's not even been a nova-week and I love this huge, terrifying, broken creature. I want to tell him, so very much, but every time I do, the words stick in my throat, as if I'm expecting something terrible to happen.

Because so many terrible things have happened. I don't think my psyche is ready for the good things.

"Yes, my eregri ," he murmurs. "The nest is ready for your inspection."

I withdraw my hands. He blinks once, twice, and then his gaze becomes absolutely, completely, wickedly clear.

"Is inspection optional?" I query, but his lips are already on mine.

"No," he growls over my mouth, his kiss dominating me as his huge bulk does. "Because little feathers who tease big beasts will have to make good on their promises."

Yep, I teased the beast, and I will pay for it, now or later. Sylas will extract my pleasure, feeding on it like he's been starved.

Because no one has ever touched my sweet goliath, not unless it was to hack at his flesh or attempt to end his life. He is as starved of affection as I was, only mine wasn't enforced, it was something which chose me and I could have changed, if I'd been strong enough.

Now I am strong enough because of him. My gladiator.

"I always make good on my promises, Sylas." I half groan as his hand disappears under my clothing and his claws prick at my skin.

"Good little mate," he says, tipping me into his arms. "Close your eyes."

I close them obediently and hear his feathers swish as he marches through the dwelling.

"You can open them now," he rumbles, and I do so.

The room is the one with the balcony, and the windows are all raised to allow in the sweet fragrance of the forest and a soft wind. The entire place is hung with twinkling items which spin and sway. Mostly they seem to be small mirrors, but other items have a distinctly familiar look, like cutlery.

Sylas has taken anything and everything he could in order to make this nest for me.

"Boran helped me find some of the fabrics." Sylas sets me on my feet and rubs at the back of his neck. "But the rest I found myself."

Like it matters he had help.

I walk around, touching the items he's brought and arranged so very carefully, like I did back on Haxrix's transport. Sylas watches me with tortured eyes.

"I think…" I stand in the middle of the room.

He has outdone himself. The bed is filled with soft, fluffy cushions, surrounded by a wall of floating muslins, and has a deep cup which could probably take three Gryn and a human with ease.

Sylas leans forward as I put my forefinger to my lips and go silent, turning slowly in a circle until I'm back facing him again.

"I think…" I repeat, adoring how he's hanging on my next words, as if they really matter.

"I think…I like it?"

"You do?" He bounces on the spot like a puppy.

"Sylas." I sway towards him, swinging my hips and dining on the look he gives me, all lust and desire, mixed with something else entirely. "I love it. No one ever made me a nest and I'd love anything you do for me."

"I want it to be the best in the entire galaxy because you deserve nothing less, little feather, sweet eregri . You are mine."