Page 86 of Silver & Smoke
She said nothing, continuing the intricate work at hand. She longed for him to wrap his arms around her waist, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and kiss her, but... regardless of whether they trusted their current company or not, she was still publicly engaged to another man. A man whose father held the key to her soul-bonded’s life, who had allies she needed to win over if she wanted to stand any chance of winning this war.
Zavier and Dessa made their excuses – something flimsy about collecting more water when a fresh bucket stood at Wren’s feet. But she didn’t protest as they left. Instead, she inhaled the familiar scent of her Warsword and fought every instinct to throw herself into his arms.
‘You take on too much,’ he ventured, his fingers grazing hers as he reached for a bundle of dried herbs, mimicking her actions and crushing it thoroughly.
Wren glanced around to check that Lord Lucian was nowhere in sight. ‘I’m afraid that’s a trait we share, Bear Slayer.’
The Warsword drew closer. She could feel the heat radiating from his powerful body. ‘Then I can’t hold it against you, can I?’
The bond crackled between them, full of lightning and Furies-given strength – a joining of both their magics, a promise that linked them, soul to soul.
Wren’s breath hitched with the force of their connection. The Bear Slayer tensed beside her, and she knew he felt the same sensations coursing through his own being. A symphony of desire andlove danced across their shared bond, drawing them to one another with a power almost beyond their control.
Torj leaned in so that his words tickled the shell of her ear. ‘Is it wrong that after this gods-forsaken day, all I want to do is take you to my tent and taste every inch of you?’
The sultry promise in his words had Wren biting back a whimper. She was well versed in what the Warsword’s mouth could do to her, and it made her knees buckle. His scent wrapped around her – it was all she could do not to lean in. She glanced at the others, who were busy over a crucible, but far too close for her liking.
‘We can’t...’ she murmured, though the images had already started to flood her mind – Torj’s teasing touch, the slow torture of him peeling her clothes away, piece by piece, the trail of his tongue along her skin... The push of his hard cock inside her—
Torj gave a low groan. ‘You’re killing me, Embers.’
Wren glanced up to find the Bear Slayer biting his lip as he studied her with a heated gaze. ‘You... you saw all that?’
‘Saw?’ Torj loosed a tense breath. ‘Embers, I fuckingfeltit.’
Wren gaped at him.
He offered an amused shrug before twisting his body to reveal his lower half. ‘Believe me now?’ The thick, hard outline of his erection was clearly visible, straining against his leathers.
The sight had heat blooming between her thighs, had her nipples tightening against the rough fabric of her bodice. It took all the willpower Wren had to stop herself from grabbing a fistful of the Bear Slayer’s shirt and hauling his mouth down to hers—
‘It’s a damn good thing I’m not the jealous type,’ Darian observed as he entered the makeshift alchemy station. ‘And for Furies’ sake, Elderbrock, show some decorum. Not all of us want to see your monster cock multiple times in the space of a few weeks.’
A laugh burst from Wren as Torj adjusted himself, the tips of his ears turning red. But the Warsword clicked his tongue with annoyance. ‘It’s not my fault you’re always showing up where you’re not welcome.’
‘I’m never not welcome,’ Darian quipped.
‘Consider this a first, then,’ Torj replied gruffly.
Amusement gleamed in the nobleman’s eyes before he fixed them with a serious look, his tone full of warning. ‘I could have been anyone just now.’
‘I know,’ Wren muttered, hanging her head.
‘Do you?’ Darian challenged. ‘Because what I’ve just walked in on makes a mockery of our engagement. You were lucky it was only me, but what if it had been my father? Or any one of his bannermen or spies? Any alliances you hope to make would have been quashed before they began. And whatever information he has about Torj’s poisoning would go up in smoke.’ He studied them, his expression softening. ‘The people of the midrealms, the people we love, depend on your discretion. I don’t say this to be cruel. I say it out of necessity.’ His gaze landed on Torj. ‘I hope you know that, brother.’
Before either of them could respond, Darian walked back towards the tents.
Wren sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told the Bear Slayer. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of all this.’
‘It’s not your fault. You can only play the hand you’re dealt as best you can.’
She faltered. ‘I’m trying...’
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘And I’ll be here. Every step of the way, just as I promised.’
Wren felt the ghost of his touch on her skin, a whisper of pleasure to come, someday, before he went back to the heart of the camp. A deep pulse of longing settled low in her belly as she watched her Warsword walk away.
It made her ache.
