Page 24 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)

Chapter 24

Cleo

T he midday sun streamed through the high stone windows, casting shifting patterns of light across the long tables laden with food. The scent of roasted meat and spiced vegetables filled the hall, mingling with the low hum of conversation. The orcs sat around me, their broad shoulders brushing mine as we ate. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was an outsider, but something had shifted in the past few days. They weren’t looking at me with suspicion anymore. Word had traveled quickly about my time in the healer's room over the last twenty-four hours, and this was the first time I had stepped away from the injured scouts.

Dex had practically shoved a pair of leggings and a tunic into my hands, giving me only minutes to change before dragging me here, fussing the entire way at me for sleeping in one of the healer’s chairs. His worry was endearing, and I kept repeating that I was fine, and I couldn’t leave until everyone had been showing signs of improvement. He finally relented as the table had filled opposite us.

Gornak’s rough voice broke through the clatter of dishes, drawing my attention. “Shaman, how does it feel when you heal us?”

His words hung in the air, and I blinked at him, my mind searching for the right words to describe what it felt like to draw on the earth’s power. “I'm not sure... it’s hard to describe.”

Gornak’s eyes, though sharp, had softened. “It's unlike anything I have seen before, despite my many years. When you drove the darkness from us in the Shadow Lands, it felt like you reached into our very souls. Our life force was wavering, and then you...” He paused, searching for the right words. “You held us together, like you were pulling us back. I felt this incredible warmth. It wasn’t just healing magic. It was pure power surging through us, fueling our lifeforce.”

I swallowed hard. Had I really done that—sent pure energy through them? I had been so frantic, so desperate to help, I hadn’t fully realized the effect of my magic. The idea that I had touched something as delicate as their life force was both terrifying and humbling. And yet, a quiet confidence settled in my chest.

Thorn, seated across the table, leaned in with an eager glint in his amber eyes. “It was like light flooding us. We felt you, Cleo. We felt your magic, and Gornak is right—it was warmth.”

My cheeks flushed under their scrutiny. “I didn’t even know what I was doing,” I admitted softly, wrapping my arms around my waist. A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself.

Kaldor gave me a wry grin as he snatched the last bread roll from Thorn's plate. “Then you should keep not knowing, Shaman.”

Thorn swiped for his roll, but Kaldor was faster, shoving it in his mouth with a victorious grin. I was beginning to see that they were like overgrown children, always needling each other. Was this what a family was supposed to feel like? For so long, I had been the outcast, even in my own home, and now these fierce warriors were welcoming me in unguarded.

I glanced over at Dex, who sat silently beside me watching the exchange lazily. There was something different in his gaze, something softer that I wasn’t used to seeing. He caught me staring, and a heat flickered behind his eyes. I knew he was thinking about our tryst in the library. The way I had writhed under him, the way my body responded to his touch. I bit my lip, a thrill sparking in my veins at the memory. Gods, had I really begged him to touch me? His eyes traced my lips, and his grip on the tabletop tightened, wood groaning as he shifted next to me, adjusting his pants under the table with as much subtly as an elephant in a ballroom.

“You’re right, she did save you. But don’t forget she’s still learning. This is just the beginning of her grasp on a shaman’s power.” Dex said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Having finished his meal, he stood from the bench and stepped behind me, his hand finding my shoulder. The sudden warmth of his body made me stiffen, before I melted into his touch. The scent of leather and cedar wrapped around me like a comforting shroud and I couldn’t help but think of waking up in his arms, his strong, steady heartbeat against my back. I missed that last night, as I drifted restlessly, curled up in the healer's room. I missed the way he had buried his face in my hair, his hand resting possessively on my waist. The quiet intimacy of it sent another rush of heat through me, anticipation curling in my belly. I wanted to finish what we had started.

Dex’s voice dropped, his tone commanding. “Cleo is strong, but she’s not invincible. She’s still learning, and I won’t tolerate anyone questioning her while she does.”

The warriors nodded in unison, their respect for Dex clear in the way they responded immediately to his authority. But I could still feel their eyes on me, still feel their curiosity.

One of the older orcs, Larnak, gave a small chuckle. “Small in size, but powerful. We’ll keep her safe from any who question her, Chieftain.”

With murmured apologies at having to leave to meet with the training master, Dex assured me he would see me soon, before he pulled my chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. The gesture was simple, yet possessive, and it left my skin tingling in its wake.

My cheeks burned as I turned back to my new friends, catching the knowing smirk from Thorn across the table. "Who knew something as simple as public affection could make a human blush."

Larnak laughed, slapping his knee as he leaned in conspiratorially. "It's amazing, because as I was told from the guards, she wasn't afraid to be heard in the libra?—"

Gornak smacked him with his mug before he could finish his sentence, sending water splashing across the table, drenching Larnak in the process. "Watch your mouth when speaking about the Chieftain's mate."

I had come to find that orcs were not as reserved when it came to discussing intimacy, so I knew Gornak was doing that for my benefit, and I greatly appreciated him for it. My face burned in embarrassment as the warriors' eyes focused anywhere but on me, hiding their grins behind their own mugs—Kaldor bowing his head to watch as he shredded another bread roll, Thorn shoving a large chunk of spiced carrot in his mouth.

It didn't take long for Thorn to begin telling stories, their deep voices blending with the scrape of utensils and clatter of mugs. I found myself smiling, laughing even, as they shared tales of their victories and the games they played on one another during long journeys. It was obvious Thorn was eager for any skirmish outside of the mountain, his tales often focusing on the new places he got to see when scouting.

Slowly, orcs began to rise and return to their tasks, and Gornak kindly gave me directions to find Dex in the training grounds when I was ready.

The ring of steel and heavy footfalls filled the room, the air thick with sweat and dust. Orcs sparred all around me, their roars of effort blending into the steady rhythm of clashing blades. I could feel their eyes on me—glances thrown my way, some curious, others skeptical. I tried to focus on the cool weight of the sword in my hands, a knot of nerves twisting in my stomach, tension humming softly beneath my skin.

I wasn’t even sure how I’d been goaded into this. Dex’s cajoling about the knife he’d given me in the Wild Lands had been relentless. Apparently, it was for nothing if he didn’t teach me how to use it. And somehow, here I was, gripping a sword that felt far too big for my hands, under the scrutiny of a clan of warriors who could crush me with their bare hands.

Dex stood a few paces away, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that familiar, infuriating smirk. The wooden practice blade felt awkward in my grip, but I set my jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle.

“You’re holding it wrong,” he drawled, pushing off from where he was leaning against the fence as he watched me go through the practiced motions. He circled me slowly, his gaze raking over my stance, assessing. The way he moved, smooth and confident, made my skin prickle with awareness, and I had to bite back a retort. “You’ll break your wrist before you land a decent strike like that.”

I shot him a glare, trying to keep my focus on the blade instead of the way his presence seemed to fill the space around us. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought you wanted me to learn how to do this, not just criticize everything I do.”

His smirk deepened, and he circled behind me, stepping close enough that the heat of his body radiated against my back. “I do want you to learn. But I also don’t want you getting yourself killed when something takes a swipe at you.” His breath ghosted against the side of my neck as he reached around me, his fingers brushing mine as he adjusted my grip. My heart stuttered in my chest, a rush of heat flooding my veins. Every piece of training drilled into me today vanished from his proximity. My body betrayed me, leaning into his warmth despite the frustration simmering beneath my skin.

He murmured close to my ear, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Relax your shoulders. You’re holding it like it’s a pickaxe, not a blade. It’s all about balance. Remember, slow is fast, fast is slow.”

I shifted my weight, trying to follow his instructions even as his nearness made it difficult to think. The blade felt too heavy, too unwieldy. I tried to focus, slowly pulling the sword up and across in front of my chest in a slash, before bringing it back to the ready position. “Better?”

Dex let out a hum, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Much better, but you’re still too stiff. Loosen up, shaman. You’re not fighting a tree.” His hand lingered on mine longer than necessary, and I swore I felt his thumb graze the back of my left hand, touching my mate bond bracelet. His hands on me were light, but they sent a slow, curling ache deep in my stomach, the frustration mounting inside me in more ways than one.

I huffed out a breath, more to steady my racing pulse than anything else. “Keep talking, orc, and I’ll show you just how stiff I can be when I bury this thing between your ribs.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but the teasing edge in his tone made it hard to hold back.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, and I fought the urge to lean into it. Gods, the things his voice alone did to me. “I’d like to see you try.” He stepped back, finally giving me space, but I could still feel the ghost of his touch lingering on my skin. “Again, and this time, pretend you’re actually trying to cut something.”

I gritted my teeth, ignoring the way my pulse thrummed as I lifted the sword, feeling its weight as the blade curved in a downward arc. The sword cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh, but the weight of it still made my arms tremble. I glanced at Dex, expecting another smug comment, but he was watching me closely, a look of approval crossing his face.

“Not bad. You might even get close to hitting something if you keep practicing like that,” he teased, tossing his own blade into the air and catching it with infuriating ease.

“Thanks...” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small, triumphant smile that tugged at my lips. “Next time, I’ll aim for your head.”

Dex’s eyes glinted with something that made my breath catch, and he twirled his blade, the movement smooth and effortless. His gaze traveled over me, lingering just long enough to make heat pool low in my stomach before he turned back to the training grounds. “I look forward to it, little shaman. But first, let’s see if you can manage to hold onto that thing without it dragging you into the ground.”

I shot him a look, tightening my right hand around the hilt. “Just because you’re built like a mountain doesn’t mean the rest of us can toss around a sword like it’s a twig.”

His rich laughter rumbled through the air as he moved to stand directly in front of me again, leaning in just enough that I could see the heated mischief dancing in his eyes. “Size isn’t everything, you know. It’s all about technique.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I tried to hold my ground. “So, show me, Dex. Or are you worried I’ll catch on too quickly?”

He tilted his head, a challenge sparking in his gaze. “If you manage to surprise me, Cleo, I’ll let you take the lead in the next fight.” His voice dipped lower, his tone turning serious even as his eyes held that teasing edge. “But until then, you’ll do as I say and try not to hurt yourself, little mate.”

I lifted the blade again, trying to ignore the way his words wrapped around me. I was already aching for him, and the way he spoke only fueled the fire burning deep within me. “You’ll regret giving me the chance,” I muttered, but there was no bite behind the words this time, and as I took another swing, a part of me couldn’t help but enjoy the way Dex’s gaze held mine, an intensity there that made it impossible to look away.

I swung again, the wooden blade trembling in my grip as I met another of Dex's furious strikes. Each blow drove me back, the force of his movements sending shockwaves through my aching arms. My breath came in ragged bursts, and my muscles burned, but still, I refused to falter. The weight of his expectations pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.

“Your stance is slipping,” Dex said with a sharp tone, his golden eyes drilling into me with unyielding intensity. “Keep your balance, little shaman. You're leaving yourself wide open.”

“I’m trying!” Frustration curled tight in my chest as I dodged another swing. “Not all of us have been training since we could walk, you know.”

His lips curled in that infuriating smirk, his blade sweeping in again, forcing me to backpedal. “You’re doing fine. Stop complaining and focus.”

I gritted my teeth, determined to hold my ground, but the uneven terrain betrayed me. My foot caught on a loose stone, and before I could correct my balance, I fell. The impact rattled through my bones, knocking the air from my lungs in a sharp gasp. My sword rolled from my grasp, a useless piece of wood against the dirt.

Dex's shadow loomed over me as he crouched, his hand outstretched. “Come on, up we go.”

But it wasn’t Dex standing over me anymore...

The ground beneath me turned cold, the air thick with the suffocating scent of stale ale and blood. My father’s voice sliced through the haze, sharp and cruel, filled with that old, familiar rage. “Useless,” he snarled, his shadow swallowing me whole. “You’re nothing but a burden.”

I tried to crawl back, my limbs leaden with terror. But before I could escape, his boot slammed into my ribs, sending pain lancing through my side. I curled inward, clutching at the ache blooming beneath my skin, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I willed the words to my lips, but they wouldn't come. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream. I could only brace for the next blow.

“Get up.” His voice cracked like a venomous whip. “Stop crying. No one’s going to save you. You’re pathetic! Worthless ? —”

A strangled cry tore from my throat as I blinked, the past bleeding into the present. Dex’s voice pierced the fog, rough and urgent. “Cleo!” His voice pulled at me, distant but insistent. “Breathe. Look at me. You’re safe.”

The world snapped back into sharp focus, and horror curdled in my stomach. Vines had erupted from the earth, thick and sinuous, coiling around Dex’s powerful frame. They pulsed with an eerie silver glow, twisting tighter with each heartbeat, binding him like a prisoner. His practice sword lay abandoned, forgotten, as he fought to break free, his muscles straining beneath the grip of my magic.

“Cleo,” Dex rasped, his voice raw with effort. His eyes burned into mine, “You need to stop this. Fight the fear.”

Around us, the training grounds had fallen silent, save for the muttered voices of the orcs who had gathered, weapons raised in cautious fear. Thorn stepped forward, his sword biting into the vines, but they only lashed out in retaliation, knocking him back with a sharp crack.

“Stay back!” Dex barked, his chest heaving as the vines squeezed tighter, his voice strained with the effort to breathe. “I said, stay back !”

The weight of their stares pressed against me, heavy with a fear that cut deeper than any blade. I could hear the whispers, sharp and unforgiving.

“She’ll kill him?—”

“—Dangerous—”

Dex's voice tore through my spiraling panic, dragging me from the edge. “Cleo!” he pleaded, his strength ebbing as the vines constricted further. “You can stop this.”

Tears burned down my cheeks as I clawed for control, my fingers trembling as I leap to my feet, reaching for the magic simmering beneath my skin. It fought against me, wild and unruly, slipping through my grasp like sand. But I pushed harder, desperation clawing at my throat. I focused on Dex’s voice, the steady, unwavering command beneath the strain.

Slowly, the vines loosened their grip, slithering back into the ground until they were gone. Dex staggered forward, a ragged breath tearing from his chest as he clutched his ribs. Around us, the orcs lowered their weapons, their faces etched with relief, suspicion, and fear.

My knees buckled, and I crumpled to the ground, sobs wracking my body. “I’m sorry,” I choked out, my voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to-I didn’t!”

Dex dropped to his knees in front of me, his golden eyes soft with understanding. His touch was light as he brushed damp strands of hair from my face. “Cleo, it’s okay. You stopped it. That’s what matters.”

I shook my head, the knot in my chest growing tighter. “It’s not okay,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I saw my father. When you leaned over me, I thought… I thought it was him.”

Dex's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. “I could kill that man for what he did to you.” His fingers tightened briefly before his voice gentled. “But you’re here, Cleo. You’re safe. And you fought back.”

My gaze dropped to the ground, shame curling deep in my gut. “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” His voice was fierce.

Before I could argue, he scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, his embrace a shield against the prying eyes around us. I buried my face into his chest, the steady drum of his heartbeat drowning out the whispers I couldn’t escape.

Dex turned to the gathered warriors, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Get back to work. Now .”

The orcs hesitated, their gazes flickering between us before they turned, retreating into their training with wary glances cast in my direction. Their fear lingered, a weight I could feel pressing into my bones.

As Dex carried me away, I clung to him, my fingers curled tightly into his shirt. The whispers, the fear, they would always be there. But in his arms, I could pretend—for just a moment—that they weren’t crushing me from the inside out.