Page 64 of Silver & Smoke
‘Wren?’ Torj clearly wasn’t happy. ‘I said, what are you doing?’
‘Bathing,’ she replied bluntly, dragging the cloth over her chest. ‘What’s it look like, Bear Slayer?’
‘Alone? Unguarded?’
Wren made a show of shrugging. ‘I told you to meet me. You are my protector, after all...’
Her words had the desired effect.
‘Have you lost your wits, woman?’ Torj stormed towards her, his heavy boots crushing the damp leaf litter, his nostrils flaring as his gaze dropped to her shift, where her hard nipples showed through the thin fabric. ‘And in nothing but a slip?’ His voice carried the commanding authority he’d shown back in the war room, but underneath it she heard the fear – not of her inability to defend herself, but of losing her. It made her want to both soothe him and challenge him further, to remind him that she was no delicate flower to be protected. She was his match in every way that mattered.
Wren bunched the hem of the garment to reveal her thigh, where his dagger was firmly secured. ‘Well, not just a slip...’
Torj swore. ‘You’re going to kill me long before this damn poison does, Embers. Get back to the fortress before I do something stupid.’ Even angry, his movements weren’t as swift as they should be – the poison’s work already showing in the slight stiffness of his stride. It made her heart clench, made her need to touch him, to prove he was still here, still hers.
‘Perhaps I want you to do something stupid,’ she teased lightly.
The warrior licked his lips as he surveyed her, his gaze darkening as he drank in the sight of her bare legs and taut nipples. ‘Believe me, my blood’s sure as fuck not pumping to my brain right now, so it’s inevitable if you don’t move that beautiful ass...’
Wren squeezed the washcloth, allowing water to run down her front, turning her shift transparent. ‘You seem to have a thing for my ass, Warsword.’
Cursing again, the Bear Slayer ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You haven’t tormented me enough?’ he rasped. ‘I’m hanging on by a thread here.’
Wren closed the gap between them and palmed him through his leathers. ‘I don’t want you to hang on,’ she told him. ‘I want you to let go. Youneedto let go.’
Torj jerked beneath her touch, his cheeks turning pink. ‘You know what I need, do you, Embers?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply, and she freed his cock.
‘Fuck,’ he groaned as her hand wrapped around him. ‘This is a bad idea...’
Above them, the willow branches swayed, creating shifting patterns of shadow and light across his face as he watched her with darkened eyes. The stream’s constant rhythm matched their ragged breathing.
‘It’s the best idea I’ve had all week, Bear Slayer,’ she quipped, before she fell to her knees in the damp soil.
She had seen how tightly wound he was, had seen how his dark gaze had followed her and Darian yesterday. The way his jaw clenched when the nobleman touched her arm or danced with her, the raw possession in his eyes that sent heat pooling in her belly. She needed him to remember that the games of royal politics didn’t change what they shared. Didn’t undo the words they’d said to one another. That beneath the titles of heir and Warsword was something primal and unshakeable: they were soul bonded, and would be until their final breaths.
‘I want to remind you who you belong to, Warsword,’ she told him, blowing a stream of cool air over the wet tip of his shaft.
‘There’s no question of that,’ he replied hoarsely.
‘Good.’ Wren kissed the tip of his cock. ‘I’m going to need you to come hard and fast for me, then...’
‘As my queen commands,’ he managed, his voice rough but still carrying that note of deference that made her pulse quicken. Even like this, with his cock on her lips and his control slipping, he acknowledged her power over him – not just as a ruler, but as the woman who held his heart.
Wren ran her tongue from base to tip, before she swallowed him down.
The Warsword towering above her stifled a moan as she took the full length of him in her mouth, and she could feel his powerfulthighs trembling. Her hand reached between them to cup his balls, massaging them gently as she swirled her tongue over the crown of him.
‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Fuck, Wren—’
She hummed around him, and his hands shot into her hair, guiding her motions over him. The cool air against her wet shift made her shiver, a counterpoint to the heat of him on her tongue. Somewhere above, a morning bird began its song, but she was lost to everything except the taste of him, the sounds escaping him competing with the stream’s endless murmur.
‘Furies save me, Embers... You take me so well.’
His praise sent a bolt of desire straight to her clit, and she moved her hand between her legs to ease the ache there.
‘Gods,’ Torj managed. ‘You’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I fucking love watching you touch yourself. I loveyou.’
