Page 23 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)
Chapter 23
Dex
A fter a detailed recount of the scouts’ clash with the Shadow Hounds, I requested an increase in our hunting party numbers, and for the clan not to stray far from the mountain. With a frustrated sigh, I stood from the table, dismissed my warriors and elders from the meeting, and headed down to the healer’s room. Word had trickled back to us that Cleo was hard at work, using her magic to treat the injuries of the scouts under the careful guide of our healers.
When I reached the room, it was cloaked in quiet, broken only by the low murmurs of relief as Cleo’s magic took hold. The glow of her power suffused the space, soft and ethereal, casting long shadows that danced along the rough stone walls. It made the room feel almost peaceful, as though her presence alone could drive out the lingering scent of blood and the groans of the injured.
I stood at the back of the room watching her, unable to look away. Her touch was light, deliberate, yet unhesitating as she moved from one wounded warrior to the next. The silvery green glow of her magic clung to her fingers, spreading out in waves that made the air shimmer. It was mesmerizing—dangerous, even, in how it captivated me.
Her power poured into my men, knitting wounds and easing pain with a precision that defied logic. The soldiers watched her in stunned silence, their guarded expressions softening as the tension in their bodies melted away. They didn’t understand the full depth of what she was—what she could become. None of us did. But I was beginning to see it, to realize just how powerful she truly was. And that realization carried both hope and dread.
I tried to focus on the lives she was saving, the way her magic was reshaping the tide of our war—but my thoughts kept slipping back to the feel of her beneath my hands, only hours ago.
That moment between us was still fresh in my mind. Her breath hitching as I pressed her against the cold stone, my hands exploring the curves of her body. She’d fit against me so perfectly, her warmth sinking into my skin as though it had always been meant to be there. She was so small compared to me, her skin soft and flushed, and the way she had arched into my touch had nearly undone me. The fire between us had burned wild and unrestrained, consuming everything in its path. It was the kind of desire I hadn’t felt in years, perhaps ever.
And it wasn’t just her body I craved. It was the strength that radiated from her, the sharp defiance in her gaze that dared me to claim her but refused to yield, not just to me, but to herself. This world would try to break her—it always broke the strongest first.
I had to keep my distance. For her sake, if not my own. She had enough to carry without me adding to her burdens.
Her fierce strength unsettled me. I hadn’t meant to feel this way. I hadn’t meant to crave her presence like this. She was human— shaman, yes—but still human. And I was orc, bound by duty to my people, to the war that had raged for centuries. I wasn’t meant to be captivated by her. I wasn’t meant to feel this need. And yet, here I was mated and unable to tear my eyes away.
Cleo moved to the last of the injured, her hands shaking as she placed them over a deep gash on a scout’s chest. Her magic flared again, silvery light flooding the room, and the soldier groaned as his wound began to close. She swayed as she worked, exhaustion etched into every line of her body, but she didn’t stop. Not until the man’s breathing evened out and the glow around her hands faded.
She stepped back, her chest heaving with effort, and I thought she might collapse. My feet moved instinctively, closing the space between us before I could think. But she steadied herself, brushing her wild curls away from her face, and when her eyes met mine, the weariness in them was tempered by something stronger. Determination. Fire.
Grath lingered at my side, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room. His eyes followed Cleo’s every move, his expression guarded but thoughtful. He hadn’t spoken much since we left our meeting, but I could feel his disapproval simmering beneath the surface. Grath never did hold his tongue for long.
“She’s stronger than I expected,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, rough, but there was an edge to it—a weight I recognized all too well.
“She is,” I replied, keeping my gaze on Cleo. She had moved to the corner of the room to rest, her back leaning against the stone wall. The exhaustion was clear in her posture, but she refused to close her eyes, her hands still twitching as though ready to heal again at a moment’s notice.
“She’s proving herself,” Grath continued, his tone shifting. “Even the ones who doubted her power are starting to see it. She’s earning their respect.”
I nodded, my jaw tightening. “It’s important that they trust her.”
Grath snorted softly, shaking his head. “Trust?” he said, his voice laced with skepticism. “Is that what you think this is about? Trusting her? Or is it about controlling her?”
I tensed at his words, my fists clenching at my sides. “What are you getting at, Grath?”
He turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. “You know exactly what I’m getting at, Dex. Don’t pretend otherwise. Half the clan sees her as nothing more than a weapon—a tool to win this war. And you’re the one who brought her here. You’re the one who gave them the means to use her.”
“That’s not why I brought her,” I said sharply, my voice rising before I could stop it. “You know that.”
“Do I?” Grath shot back, his tone harsh. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re playing right into their hands. You think they’ll stop at asking for her help? You think they won’t demand more? That they won’t take everything she has and leave her hollowed out, just like every other tool we’ve ever sacrificed for this war?”
His words struck deeper than I wanted to admit. “She’s not a tool and I won’t let them use her like one.”
Grath studied me for a long time, his expression unreadable. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Seer Arna and I warned you about this, Dex.” His voice was softer now. “You didn’t listen then, and I understand why. You thought you were doing what was best for the clan. But now you need to think about what’s best for her.”
“I am thinking about her,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect her.”
Grath raised an eyebrow, his skepticism plain. “Protect her? Does she even know the truth about why she’s here? About what they expect of her?”
I didn’t answer, and that was enough for him to confirm his suspicions.
“You’re a coward,” he said bluntly, his words hitting like a physical blow. “You think you’re protecting her by keeping her in the dark, but you’re only delaying the inevitable. You can’t outrun fate, Dex. You can’t shield her from it. And when she does learn the truth—when she finds out what the clan expects of her—do you really think she’ll stay? Do you think she’ll fight for us after everything we’ve done?”
His words sank into me like a weight, dragging me down into the depths of my own guilt. I hated that he was right. Hated that I didn’t have an answer for him.
Grath stepped closer, lowering his voice. “She’s not just some prophecy to be fulfilled, Dex. She’s a person. A person the earth chose, for reasons we don’t fully understand. Arna and I have always respected that choice, even if we don’t agree with it. And you need to start respecting it too. You need to stop trying to control what’s already in motion.”
“I’m not trying to control her,” I said, though the words sounded hollow even to me.
Grath shook his head, his frustration plain. “You might not see it that way, but she will. And when that moment comes, you’d better be ready to face her. Don’t run from it, Dex. Don’t run from her. She deserves the truth.”
I looked away, my jaw tightening as I stared at Cleo. She had slid down the wall, but her eyes were still open, her gaze distant. She looked so small, so fragile, and yet I knew how much strength burned inside her. She was a wildfire contained in human form, and I was the fool standing too close to the flames.
“You think she’d turn her back on us if she knew?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
Grath’s expression softened. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think she has a right to make that choice. And I think you’d be a damned fool to underestimate her.”
He was right about one thing—I couldn’t keep running from this. From her. Cleo wasn’t just a shaman, wasn’t just the key to winning this war. She was a person, with hopes and fears and dreams that didn’t deserve to be crushed under the weight of our expectations. She deserved better. Better than the clan. Better than me. I didn’t deserve my mate. Fate didn’t care about what we deserved. It was a crushing force, dragging us all toward an end we couldn’t escape, and Cleo was at the center of it, whether she wanted to be or not.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said finally, the words heavy on my tongue. “When the time is right.”
Grath snorted, shaking his head. “The time is never going to be right, Dex. Fate doesn’t wait for convenience. Neither should you.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My gaze drifted back to Cleo. She was so much more than I had expected, more than I had ever prepared for. As I watched her, the weight of Grath’s words settled over me like a storm cloud. He was right—I couldn’t keep running. But telling Cleo the truth meant risking everything. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to do it.
She was so small compared to the rest of us, and yet she commanded the room in her own quiet way. She didn’t need to speak for me to know what she was thinking. She was exhausted, but she wasn’t done. The set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes—it was all there, unwavering.
And yet, as she moved toward me, all I could think about was the feel of her skin under my hands, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. The memory burned in my mind, an echo of softness and heat that refused to fade.
Cleo stopped in front of me, her tired eyes meeting mine. “It’s done.”
“You need to rest,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She gave me a look, equal parts exhaustion and defiance. “I will. But not yet.”
Something inside me snapped at her words, the tension coiled in my chest spilling over. “You’ll kill yourself at this rate,” I muttered, the frustration bleeding into my tone.
Her lips quirked into a tired, humorless smile. “Better me than them,” she said simply, and the weight of her words hit me like a blow.
I wanted to argue, to tell her that she didn’t have to bear this burden. But I couldn’t. Deep down, I knew she would. She’d give everything she had, until there was nothing left, and she’d do it without hesitation, because that was who she was.
And it was that thought—that unbearable truth—that made me realize just how deeply I’d fallen for her. She wasn’t just a shaman. She wasn’t just a tool to be used or a prophecy to be fulfilled. She was Cleo. Strong. Defiant. Beautiful. And I was utterly, hopelessly lost to her.
The clan would come to see what I saw. They had to. Because whether or not I wanted to admit it, Cleo wasn’t just a passing figure in my life anymore. She was my anchor, my equal. Somehow, I would find a way to keep her safe. Even if it meant telling her everything and even letting her go. She was my mate.