The First Dawn

(Paige’s POV)

Heat greets my eyes when they open.

A heavy quiet wraps around me. For a second, my mind stumbles, unsure of place. This isn’t cold rock underfoot. Light doesn’t cut through tall glass here. The sound of metal clicking shut - gone.

Beneath my ear, a heartbeat pulses - steady, unchanging. Weight presses down, real and constant. Heat wraps around everything, thick and silent.

Light flickers above. Smoke curls along the beams where shadows slide. Rain grumbles far off, muffled by bark and time. My body rests half-turned, drawn inward. He holds me close - steady breath, solid heat - an anchor without words. A thick arm lies across my middle, fingers spread wide on my belly, while his body presses tight behind me like unyielding stone. Warmth pools where his breathing grazes my neck, his mouth hidden in the dip just below my ear.

This is how sleep took us. Dressed, worn out, limbs knotted close, needing the warmth. Yet under the hush of hours passing, a change slipped through. What began as solace now hums differently - alive with knowing.

Something about each touch sparks a sharp kind of awareness. His shirt drags slightly across my skin, coarse and close. My body fits into the shape of his legs, solid and unyielding. A whisper of beard grazes my neck - tiny friction, sudden warmth. That hand low on my belly doesn’t lie still. Fingers drift across fabric, tracing soft loops without thought. Heat follows each pass, quiet sparks beneath skin.

Breath caught, I freeze - every muscle locked tight. Silence wraps around us, thin as glass. His calm heartbeat ticks on, while mine jumps like a trapped thing underneath.

Eyes still closed, he shifts slightly. Warm breath brushes my skin, low and drowsy. That weight behind me grows heavier as his hold adjusts. Muscle meets muscle now, solid and unyielding. Heat builds where our bodies connect, slow but sure, a quiet signal beneath silence.

A rush runs through me, head to toe. Warmth gathers deep down, thick like syrup.

Breath shifts. A catch, a pause, then slow rhythm returns - stillness says he is alert. That hand on my belly halts its sweep. Every muscle locks tight, matching the tension already humming through me.

The space between us grows heavy, filled with a quiet that hums. A stillness arrives, different somehow, pressing against the skin.

His head rises from my neck, inch by inch. A warmth lingers where he looks at me, just along the edge of my cheek.

It's me. Paige. The word scrapes through the stillness, hoarse from rest - laced with weight, with depth.

My voice fails. All I do is lean closer, saying nothing.

A sound escapes him, low like a sigh but heavier. Up my neck he moves, his nose weaving through the mess of my hair. Close to my ear, his mouth touches - soft, testing. That spot there tingles under the barest pressure.

Something jolts inside, making me tremble while a quiet noise slips out. A breath catches where silence should be.

This is every bit of approval required by him.

A sudden warmth spreads as his hand moves up my stomach, past my ribs, stopping below where my chest begins. The heat from his palm feels intense. I feel my breathing pause. His mouth touches my neck once more, now wet and warm, the flicker of his tongue like a spark against me.

A whisper breaks the silence - his words brushing my wet shoulder, tight like a chain about to snap. Say it, his tone insists, rough and unyielding. Halt this before it goes further

Turning within his hold, my movement falters - half stumble, half slide through twisted blankets and tangled legs. There’s a pause, then I meet his gaze. Light from the flames traces warmth across one cheekbone while leaving the rest in dusky contrast. In that flickering glow, his eyes appear deep, nearly swallowed by darkness at their center. That raw need in his eyes ought to scare me. Instead, it stirs something fierce under my skin.

A shaky hand rises, fingers brushing his jaw. Rough stubble scrapes my skin. His lips press into my palm, slow and quiet, like something fragile giving way.

Keep going, I say under my breath.

The leash snaps.

His lips meet mine. Nothing about this one feels familiar. Not a promise, not a search. Fire takes hold.

Heat takes over, fingers urgent. Not just touching - pulling me close, almost too hard. His lips move on mine like they’ve done this before, knowing exactly how. The slide of his tongue isn’t gentle; it feels lived-in, deep. One hand locks in my hair, twisting slightly, tilting my face up. Sound escapes him - a low noise from somewhere below his ribs - and I feel it more than hear it.

Fingers spread wide, gripping his shoulders tight, sliding along the ridges of muscle beneath. Downward they go, tracing strength in slow paths across his back. The fabric gives way under clumsy attempts at undone buttons, torn and hanging loose. Skin meets air when shirts fail. Nothing matters but touch that answers every unspoken question. Warmth stays longer than memory ever could.

His lips pull away, a shaky breath escaping him as his head rests against my own. Wait, he says, voice strained like stretched wire. Please tell me you truly want this, Paige - look at how your body shakes after what we’ve been through

Shaking, though. Not because I’m scared. Because something inside won’t stop pulling. A craving so deep it makes my head spin.

For sure, I whisper, guiding his face close again. This time I lean in first, pressing my lips to his, filling the moment with everything I feel - every bit of want, every ounce of truth. You are what I’m after. Being here like this matters. Prove you exist, right now, in my hands

This is the end. Every bit of that famous calm just slips away.

Fingers find the ties at my waist, tugging without rush yet urgent somehow, like time is slipping. The threadbare cloth parts like old paper, yielding without protest. Off come the sleeves, sliding slow over elbows, then wrists. A breath of chill skims across bare shoulders - then fire follows, set loose by the weight of his stare.

Breathing hard, he just stands there watching. Maybe I ought to be uneasy, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. Yet what shows on his face isn’t criticism. Instead, wonder fills his gaze. Almost like reverence.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, the words raw and unadorned. “It’s a physical pain to look at you.”

Next thing I know, his hands touch my skin - thinking stops.

Fingers trail across skin, slow at first, then bolder. Not quite sure but moving anyway. Rough hands slide along the curve below the ribs, past the narrowest part, then outward again. One palm presses where bone meets softness, testing shape. A thumb grazes cloth-covered flesh, just above the swell, and heat flares beneath it. Sound escapes - tight, sudden - cut short by lips meeting lips. Breath mixes as fabric slips down one shoulder, then falls free.

Gold spills across my skin from the flames. Over each part of me, his eyes move like heat. Down goes his head after that.

A gasp escapes when his lips touch my skin - sudden, electric. Warmth spreads where he licks, slow and knowing. The way his tongue circles makes thought vanish. Pulling me close, he takes more than just sensation, drawing a quiet moan from deep within. Each pulse rises before settling low, heavy. My back lifts off the sheets without asking. Hands find their way into his hair - not guiding, simply gripping, rooted there.

Breath catches. Noah… escapes my lips like something half remembered, almost sacred.

Nowhere else matters when he shifts, lips finding the second breast just as fiercely. His palm glides where moisture lingers from earlier. Each touch pulls threads loose inside me. Sensation rules every breath, every twitch - thoughts gone, body alive in fragments.

I shove against his chest, fingers slipping on fabric. Off comes the shirt, yanked free with a snap of stubborn threads giving way. Silence falls - then skin meets air.

Flickering flames trace the ridges of his torso, carving shadows across skin stretched tight over bone and power. This man carries himself like someone who has known conflict, each faint scar a story written without words. Strength lives in the slope of his back, the set of his arms, built not for show but survival. There is grace in how he moves, though it is the kind found in storms, not gardens. Beauty here isn’t soft - it’s sharp, unyielding, forged through years where only the relentless endured.

Fingers spread across his chest, the heat of him rising through my palms. A soft scar lies just above where his heartbeat hammers - steady, wild. My mouth touches it without thinking. His body jerks like wind hits stone.

“Paige,” he groans, his hands coming up to frame my face. “If you keep looking at me like that, this will be over before it begins.”

I glance upward, locking onto his restless gaze. Just go ahead

A low sound comes from deep in his chest as I sink into the soft layers beneath us. Over me now, he moves close until there is no space left between. His presence presses without force, holding me where I am meant to be. Heat travels where our bodies meet, each point of contact sharp and new.

A sudden hush falls between us when his lips meet mine once more - long, unhurried. My skin trembles beneath his palm as it glides lower, tracing the dip at my waist, rounding the swell of my hipbone. Then downward still, along the outer line of my leg. Without rush, he lifts my knee, settling it high against his side, shifting me closer. Fingertips graze softly, almost questioning, till they reach where warmth pools tight and wet.

A shout escapes me, ending the kiss as I arch backward. Fingers trace slow patterns, then press deeper. Watching closely, he drinks in each shudder, every soft sound dragged loose by his touch.

Just like that, he whispers, his words soft as night brushing my mouth. Hear me now, says the silence between us. Feel everything, where breath meets skin

A weight builds, sharp and deep, like something ready to snap. Without thinking, my body shifts toward his palm, chasing what it needs. Everything fades except the place where skin touches skin, the fire in his stare, the uneven rhythm of air pulled into lungs.

His voice is quiet when he says, turn here.

Floating somewhere between sleep and smile, my gaze meets his.

“I belong to you,” he whispers, voice steady in the flickering shadows. His gaze holds hers when he adds, “You’re mine now.”

Over me he moves. Warmth presses close, thick and waiting right there. Breath hangs still between us. His look asks without words.

My legs circle his waist, drawing him closer without a word. Then he shifts slightly, adjusting to the weight of it all.

A hush falls as he moves deeper, moment by moment. The air shifts around us, thick with waiting.

A sharp burst of pain flashes - then drowns in the sheer inevitability of things. Fullness takes over, a bond forged through depth, through closeness beyond words. Motion stops. He stays locked inside, muscles quivering under restraint. The air holds its breath.

Right? he forces, jaw tight, eyes holding back storm.

A small shift of my hips - just a testing motion - and heat blooms low, spreading slow. A quiet "yes" slips out, more air than word. Not just fine. More than that

This is everything required for him.

Something shifts. Not rushed, never wild. This is purpose made motion, steady and sure. The air catches in my chest when he pushes forward. Sound escapes without permission. Pulling back feels like loss, pure and sharp - then he returns, slow, filling the gap. My voice breaks on every push. Every retreat hollows me out, just before he brings it all back.

His mouth closes over mine, taking every noise I make, our breathing sharp and shared. Not slow, never gentle - his hips press forward while fingers twist into my scalp. The second hand digs hard on my side, keeping me locked where he wants me. Each motion drags us further, neither one pulling back.

A twist of joy breaks apart.

A hush crashes through me, sudden and sharp. Off the mattress I go, lifted by nothing but heat. There’s no sound, just the twist of breath stuck in my throat. Warmth spreads from deep inside, slow ripples that loosen every joint. The force of it bends me like wind through grass. Stillness follows, heavy and low.

A sudden cry escapes him when I fall apart. His voice breaks on my name, rough at the edges. Tremors run through him then, sharp and uncontrolled, as he releases into me. The moment stretches, raw and close.

A quiet stretches, filled by nothing but our heavy breaths and the fire's soft snap. Down he falls next to me, drawing me close without delay, shifting me so I rest partly over him. Against my face, his heartbeat races.

Silence sits heavy. Talking feels wrong somehow. Rain taps the window like a secret now, barely there. Just warmth where bodies touch, air mixing slow. Taste of sea stays sharp on skin. This calm - deep, wordless - it fills every gap, settles into bone.

A warmth touches my damp forehead - his lips linger there. One palm moves slow along my spine, then follows the swell beneath it, never rushing. That touch just keeps going.

Faint streaks of morning creep through the glass, pushing against night's heavy grip on the clouds. A pale glow wins small patches above the broken horizon. Darkness thins, worn down by slow leaks of daylight. The air stays hushed beneath bruised cloud cover. Cold edges slip under the frame where shadows still pool. Grey fingers stretch across what was once total shadow. Quiet tension holds between last remnants of thunder and coming day.

A fresh light breaks across unknown land.

A place where I’m simply me, while he just lives without labels. Where my role means nothing, yet his nature stays untouched by names. Not destined, rather free - him neither feared nor praised.

Just a pair of us, stumbled upon by chance.

In that stillness inside the small inn room, while morning slowly brightens, it settles within me - this truth anchored far below thought

Right then, that moment marked the start of everything for me.