Page 9 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)
Chapter 9
Dex
T he creature’s body lay twisted and still, its blood pooling on the forest floor, soaking into the earth like it belonged there. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Cleo. She stood a few paces away, hands trembling and breath coming in uneven gasps. The faint silver-green glow that had danced at her fingertips had faded, but I could still feel it. A lingering pulse of magic that clung to her like a second skin.
Her magic was raw and terrifyingly powerful. It had ripped through the clearing wildly, yet devastatingly precise in its destruction. The sheer force of it made the air hum, answering her fear with a savage intent that sent a chill through me. I had seen powerful shamans before, but this—this was different. Stronger than I’d ever expected from a human. Stronger than even she realized. And that frightened me. Not because of what she’d done, but because of what she could become.
Her red curls caught the light, a stark contrast to the silvery glow of her power. It was impossible to ignore how much she matched the prophecy’s description. A shaman with untold strength, born to shift the balance of this world. But this… this well of magic was unlike anything I had ever seen. The fact that she was untrained and still alive spoke volumes to her potential, and the danger she posed. Not because of what it had done to the Shadow Hound—it deserved its fate—but because of what it had nearly done to her. Magic of this level was exceptionally dangerous. Beneath my fears, a spark of eagerness burned. If this power could be harnessed, if she could learn control, she might be exactly what my clan needed.
Wiping my blade clean, I sheathed it with care. Cleo hadn’t moved since the fight had ended. Her wide green eyes were locked on her hands as if they belonged to someone else, and her body trembled with the weight of what she’d unleashed. There was something almost ethereal about her in this moment.
“Cleo.” My voice was low but sharp enough to snap her out of her daze. Her gaze jerked to mine, those wide eyes glimmering with unshed tears. I hated the way her lips trembled, hated the vulnerability she showed, and hated how much I wanted to take it away.
My chest tightened as I stared at her, and I knew I should look away, should focus on the dangers surrounding us. But I couldn’t. My eyes betrayed me, dragging over her face, lingering on the delicate pout of her lips, then lower, tracing the curve of her throat and the way her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. She was a contradiction—fragile and defiant, vulnerable yet impossibly strong. It was maddening.
A slow heat coiled low in my stomach. How could this human, so different from everything I’d known, command my attention so completely? I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze back to her eyes, but the pull didn’t ease. I wanted to touch her, to feel her softness beneath my hands, to chase away that flicker of fear and replace it with something warmer, something that belonged to me.
The realization hit me like a blow. Gods, I wanted to claim her. Not just for her power, but for her . Now wasn’t the time to think on this feral attraction between us. I had a clan to protect. A war to win.
She blinked at me, then looked away as if afraid of what she might see in my eyes, her voice a broken whisper. “I didn’t control it... it just happened.”
I closed the distance in a few long strides. Without thinking, I reached out and gripping her arm, grounding her. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and the tremble in her hands eased, but I could still see the shadow of fear lurking in her expression, the uncertainty that came with knowing her own power.
She nodded, but just as I turned to go, her hand brushed against my arm, stopping me. “Wait,” she said softly. “Your shoulder… you’re hurt.”
I glanced down at my shoulder, the sluggish trickle of blood oozing from the ragged edges catching my eye. Luckily, it wasn’t deep. I’d felt the sting earlier but shoved it aside, the rush of adrenaline masking the worst of the pain. Now that the fight was over, the ache crept in, sharp and persistent. “It’s nothing,” I muttered, brushing it off with a shake of my head. “I’ve had worse.”
“Sit.” Her voice was firmer this time. I raised a brow at her, but her expression didn’t waver. “You can’t reach it properly, and it needs to be cleaned. Let me help.”
There was no arguing with her, she was desperate for some form of control. Reluctantly, I lowered myself to a fallen log, watching as she knelt beside me and rummaged through the small pack slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a strip of cloth and a small flask of water, her movements purposeful despite the faint tremor still lingering in her fingers.
Her hands brushed my shoulder lightly as she worked, and I felt the warmth of her touch even through the sting of the cool water. She cleaned the wound with care, her fingers grazing my skin as she maneuvered around the edges of the torn flesh. Each fleeting contact sent a strange, electric awareness coursing through me, distracting me from the pain. My focus narrowed entirely on her. The way her brows knit together in concentration, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she worked, the way her lower lip caught between her teeth in thought. My gaze drifted lower, and I froze, mesmerized by her kneeling at my feet. Something about the vulnerability of the position, on her knees before me, so close. My throat constricted and I shifted awkwardly, trying to dispel the sudden flames of desire. Lust mingled with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, and I forced myself to look away, blaming the primal instincts that always surged after a fight. Orcs were wired for this. Battle and blood always stoked the fire for more .
Her fingers lingered a fraction too long as she wrapped the cloth around my shoulder, tying it off with a careful knot. “There,” she murmured, sitting back on her heels. “That should hold for now. I’m sorry I don’t have any healing salves or herbs.”
Her words pulled me sharply from my thoughts, and I flexed my arm experimentally, testing the bandage. “Not bad,” I said, my voice deliberately casual. “You’ve done this sort of thing before?”
She gave a small, rueful smile that fueled the desire I was fighting to suppress. Oh, the things I want to do to that pouty little mouth . I shook the thoughts from my head, focusing on the words as they left her lips instead. “Farm life isn’t exactly gentle. I’ve patched up worse.” Her gaze flicked up to meet mine, and I caught the faintest hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks as she took in our position.
I couldn’t resist leaning in. “Careful, you’re going to spoil me with all this attention.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement. The flush of her cheeks was exactly what I had been hoping for. The coloring sent filthy thoughts tumbling through my imagination, and I had to focus on pushing them back.
Her warmth lingered on my skin long after she pulled away, and I found myself reluctant to break the moment.
“Thank you” I said, the words heavier than they should have been.
“You’re welcome.”
I stood, towering over her, the sheer difference in our size striking. Something I liked way too much. Her smaller hand slipped into mine, her touch ignited something raw and untamed inside me, a primal hunger clawing its way to the surface, demanding more. I couldn’t help but notice the contrast, her human fragility against my orc strength. It made me wonder, not for the first time, why she didn’t seem terrified of me. Most humans would have been.
Pulling her to stand, I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand before I released her reluctantly. “We need to keep moving,” I said, my tone gruffer than I intended.
She nodded, her cheeks still tinged pink as she fell into step beside me. As we made our way deeper into the dark forest, the pull between us lingered, simmering beneath the surface like a fire waiting to ignite. I found myself wondering if the path ahead might hold something more than just survival.