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A lazy smile warmed his face. “Your mind is getting filthier by the minute, Clearwater.” He chuckled. “Try and get as much sleep as you can.” He turned to take his leave, but Emara’s hand shot out and caught his thick forearm. He turned, not hiding the shock that burst across his face.

“I like when you laugh sincerely,” she said at the speed of her beating heart. “I just thought I should tell you that.”

A mist of emotion dispersed within his eyes, reaching nowhere else on his face. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

“I didn’t want you to see another day without knowing that,” she said, the words catching in her throat. He looked stunned. Torin Blacksteel looked utterly stunned. “And now I can go to sleep knowing that I have finally silenced Torin Blacksteel.”

Was he blushing? No! Not in a million moons.

Is he? She strained her eyes to see in the darkness of the tent. If he had, he had made sure it was brief enough for her to almost miss it.

He moved over to her, close enough to touch her. “And I am going to sleep tonight, thinking of your words.” He pushed his hand into hers, and both warm and cool tingles scattered across her palm. She looked up at him as he pressed their hands tighter together. He elevated their intertwined hands, and for a moment, she expected him to kiss her flesh, but he didn’t.

He placed her hand over his heart.

Choking down a swallow, she looked at him in bewilderment. It was a gesture that felt more intimate than she had ever expected it to.

“Can you feel that?” he said, his husky voice broken with a dash of vulnerability.

She nodded, referring to the heartbeat that now slammed into the palm of her hand. She could feel it travelling all the way through her arm and she imagined it moving from her own arm and into her heart.

“Yes,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I wanted you to go to sleep tonight knowing that no one has ever made my heart beat as fast as you do.” He squeezed her hand, pushing it closer into his strong chest.

Her head dizzied, fuelling a rush of warmth that spread through her skin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood. Even though they could see the air from their breath swirl around them, she was boiling hot. She had no idea why, but somehow, those words wormed their way through her chest and wrapped around her heart like a blanket.

“Sleep well,” he said before releasing her fingers from his grip. Emara’s hand lay on his chest for a few seconds before she slid it slowly down, the drum of his heart fading as it travelled further from the beat. She wasn’t ready to let her touch drop, but she did.

“Good night,” she whispered, really wanting another two words to break free from her lips. Two little words that she was certain Torin wanted to hear too.

He smiled a heart-crushingly beautiful smile and gave her one long nod before leaving the tent.

A rush of cold air slapped her face, reminding her that it would be inappropriate of her to act on her deepest desires right this second. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back off her face as a feeling coiled around her stomach and pushed itself south.

She knew the feeling. It ached in all the most feminine parts of her.

She cursed out loud as she removed her cloak for bed, wishing it was Torin who had taken it off.

Praising the Gods for the cold air that practically punched him in the face, Torin stalked over to the tent he would be staying in. Magin crossed paths with him, nodding as he took up his stance outside Emara’s tent. He would be there until Artem changed with him halfway through the night. Torin shot him a look over his shoulder, warning him to protect her with his life.

Taking one of the stones that enclosed the fire for himself, he entered the tent. Artem was already in his sleeping sack, awaiting his return.

“Did she give you a black eye?” Artem asked. Torin noticed his face was way more enthusiastic than it should have been to ask that question.

“Not this time.” He laughed, removing his boots and weapon belt. Torin quickly put the stone at the bottom of his bedroll and leapt into the furs. It had been a while since he had a mission where he had to camp out, but the memories of his training and the Selection process were rooted permanently into his mind.

“She matches you well, Blacksteel,” Artem said as he lay on his back, staring at the tip of the small tent.

Changing the subject before he ran over to Emara’s tent barefoot and broke all the promises of not kissing her until she asked, he replied, “What about your little love match from last night?”

Artem laughed out loud at Torin’s words, and it reminded him of sharing a station with him in the Selection. Artem always got into trouble for laughing, but they would lie awake at night and talk through everything from family, to weapons, to the Gods. It had been a comfort for them both, something only a member of a hunting clan would understand. Something only a second-in-command would understand.

“Brother, I have never met anyone like her.” Artem’s stomach heaved in his laughter. “Firstly, she kicked me out of bed like she was ashamed of me. Secondly, she didn’t ask when I would return, and thirdly, she didn’t even ask my name, which I am sure she didn’t know.” He shot a glance over at Torin.

He smiled at the thought of Breighly Baxgroll pushing a six-foot-five warrior out into the forest.

“Then she threw my fighting knives at me, almost stabbing my feet, before launching an axe at my head.”