Page 23

Only at the mention of her magic did she register the charred scent in the air, and the scorch marks on the sheets clenched in her fist.

Thea fought her heart rate down. ‘Did I wake you? Hurt you?’

Wilder shook his head. ‘I never slept.’

Still trembling, Thea slipped from the bed, wearing only a thin nightshirt. The evening before had been a blur. She hardly remembered washing herself and putting it on; she only remembered Wilder – caring for him into the late hours of the night, bathing him, making sure he ate, combing her fingers through his hair until his tremors subsided.

When she reached him now, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, mindful of his stitches. She rested her cheek on his bare back, inhaling the leather-and-rosewood scent of him, grounding herself.

‘Maybe we should just stay in bed today,’ she said quietly. ‘We’ve earnt it…’

He laughed roughly, his hands trailing her arms before interlocking his fingers with hers across his middle, holding her in place. ‘I wish. But I think there’s a war to plan… An enemy or two to defeat.’

‘That list grows longer by the day,’ she muttered, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

‘Such is the life of a Warsword, Princess,’ he replied.

Thea hummed against his warm skin and pressed her lips to the ink that followed his spine. Glory in death, immortality in legend. She didn’t realise she’d said it aloud until Wilder tensed beneath her touch.

‘The Archmage of Chains…’ He shuddered, releasing her hands to grip the windowsill hard enough that his knuckles paled. ‘He could read the script. He said they would make me a legend among monsters.’

Thea didn’t move, knowing how hard it must be for him to share that fear, that pain, even with her.

‘They meant to turn me into an abomination, to unleash me upon the midrealms.’ Wilder turned to face her, uncertainty in those silver eyes.

‘And yet here you stand,’ Thea said, lifting her chin in defiance. ‘And them? They’re nothing but fucking dust in the wind.’

‘I… No matter how much I wash, I can still feel the tower on my skin,’ he told her. ‘Crawling beneath it.’

His admission broke her heart and sent rage surging through her like a current of flames, but she listened.

‘I don’t feel like myself, not yet. I can’t…’ With a noise of frustration, Wilder encircled her waist with his large hands and hauled her body to his, kissing her. ‘I need to touch you.’ His voice was hoarse.

Thea understood what he was asking. He needed to feel her, needed to know that she was real. And he needed to be in control.

She unlaced the front of her nightshirt and let it fall from her shoulders, the fabric cascading down her body and pooling at her feet.

‘I’m yours.’

Hunger clouded his gaze, and without another word, he hoisted her up, muscles bunching at his forearms as he seated her bare backside on the windowsill. For a moment, he didn’t touch her, but his eyes mapped every inch of her naked skin, following the flush down her neck and across the tops of her breasts, to her nipples hardening in anticipation.

Thea spread her legs for him, letting him see what his stare alone could do to her. Her whole body thrummed with want for him, craving his fingers, his mouth, his cock.

Wilder groaned at the sight of her, spread and bare just for him, before he closed the gap between them, pressing her back against the window and kissing her fiercely. She opened her mouth to him, letting his tongue sweep in and tease hers, his calloused hands tracing the curve of her neck, the dip of her shoulder, before cupping her breasts.

Thea bowed off the sill, but he held her in place as white-hot need blazed through her, centring between her legs. She moaned as he circled one nipple, then the other, teasing her.

Wilder’s erection strained against the loose fabric of his pants, but she didn’t reach for him, no matter how badly she wanted to. He had asked to touch her. He needed the control, at least this time, and so she opened her legs for him wider still, in invitation, revealing the slickness he’d created there.

‘You wanted to touch me,’ she breathed. ‘So touch me, Warsword.’

A low, rumbling growl escaped him and one of his hands moved lower, trailing her sternum, her navel, lower… Until his fingers slid down the centre of her.

Thea moaned, arching into his taunting touch as he spread her wetness in slow, luxurious circles around her clit.

‘Is this all for me?’ he said, his voice vibrating in the shell of her ear.

‘Yes,’ she gasped as he increased his pace. ‘It’s all for you. Only you.’