Page 30 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

I’ve always loved the quiet, tender side of Ezra, the part of him he only let a few people see. Me mostly. And maybe Zaffir too. It felt like a privilege, to see his vulnerability.

But the thought of Zaffir broke the moment. A cold, tight knot twisted in my chest at the thought of him. Was he okay? Did he know that Archon sent guards to kill us? Did he see us escape? Or did he think we were dead?

“Now you’re the one with worry all over your face,” Ezra said, his thumb brushing over the crease between my brows.

“I’m just thinking about Zaffir,” I answered quietly, my voice dropping, carrying the weight of unspoken fear. “If they sent guards to execute us…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. But Ezra knew.

“He’s smart,” Ezra said, his tone steady, unwavering.

“He’s been watching this all from both sides.

We had to focus on staying alive, but Zaffir.

.. he’s been able to watch things from the other side of the camera.

If he saw what was coming for us, then he knew what would come for him too.

” He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on mine. “He’s safe. I feel it. I know it.”

I nodded slowly, the tension still tight in my chest, but the certainty in his voice made it easier to believe. Zaffir was safe. I had to believe that. Just like I had to choose to believe that the Runaways would be waiting for us when we arrived at Praxis.

“I was really worried about you,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper as I studied his face, his color nearly completely returned thanks to the medicine working its way through his system. “I thought we lost you.”

“For a minute there, you did,” Ezra replied, his voice rasped and low, tinged with something haunted, but there was warmth there too. The kind of warmth you can only feel after crawling your way back from the edge.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his, our breaths mingling in the small space between us, syncing like they always did, like they were made to. A steady rhythm. A promise. Then he kissed me.

Soft. Gentle. Reverent. Like this was our first kiss again, not our thousandth.

Like he’d clawed his way out of death’s grasp just to feel my lips on his.

I melted into him, my hands curling around the back of his neck, careful not to brush the bandages, mindful of his wounds, but needing him close all the same.

My own injury ached with the movement, but I didn’t care. The salve had dulled most of the pain, and what was left was nothing compared to this moment. Compared to him.

His tongue ghosted across my lips, asking, not demanding, and I opened for him, letting him taste me, slow and languid. My fingers threaded into his hair as I leaned into him, needing to feel the life in him, to prove to myself that this wasn’t a dream.

His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged lightly, coaxing a soft, involuntary moan from me.

“Love,” Thorne’s voice came from the front of the bus, barely audible over the purr of the engine. “You’d best keep quiet… or you’ll wake our guest.”

I froze, breath caught in my throat. Then slowly turned, locking eyes with Thorne in the rearview mirror.

His gaze was molten, simmering with mischief and warning both.

My whole body ignited under it, flushed and buzzing and very, very aware of how close Ezra still was, how his breath was hot against my cheek.

Ezra chuckled darkly beside me. “Yeah, love,” he echoed, mocking Thorne’s pet name for me, though the way it rolled off his tongue made my stomach flip. “Keep quiet.”

His lips trailed to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he nipped at the soft spot beneath my jaw. I bit down hard on my lip, struggling to stifle the noise building in my throat.

The memory of the limo flared hot in my mind, their hands, their eyes, the way I came undone beneath Zaffir’s touch while Thorne, Briar and Ezra watched. My body pulsed at the thought, need curling low and urgent in my belly.

“You’re barely recovered,” I managed, swatting at Ezra’s wandering fingers. My voice trembled, not from fear, but from how badly I wanted to surrender to this. To him. To them. But also how much I needed him to recover from his brush with death.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice low and playful, fingers ghosting along my thigh again. Teasing.

“Don’t you think Ezra deserves a reward,” Thorne said, his voice syrup-slick and dangerous, “for clawing his way back to you from the grave, love?”

His words sparked like a match to dry kindling.

I felt the heat rise in my chest, pooling between my hips.

Thorne’s eyes were still locked on mine in the mirror, as they flicked back and forth from me to the empty road ahead, challenging, coaxing.

He was worried, I could tell. Just like I was.

Ezra shouldn’t push himself. But maybe there was another way.

I leaned in close, brushing my lips against Ezra’s ear, my voice just a whisper.

“You survived death for me, Ezra. Let me remind you what living feels like.”

His breath hitched, and I felt his hands tighten ever so slightly where they rested on my hips, as I peeled out of his hold and knelt to the ground between his legs.

My leg protested a little, but I found a comfortable spot and looked up at him.

Behind the wheel, Thorne didn’t say a word. But he didn’t look away either.

Devrin had stripped him to his boxers already when he was taking care of the burns on his legs, so all I had to do was slide the band far enough down to release his massive and hardened cock.

Ezra’s eyes were burning into me, and I could feel the heat of Thorne’s gaze on the back of my head.

I wrapped my hand around his length, and gently let my fingers stroke him.

He groaned and I shot him a warning glance.

“Now it’s your turn to be quiet,” I warned, just as I darted out my tongue to circle the tip of his cock.

He grunted, low and quiet, his hands coming to tangle in my hair.

The bead of precum on my tongue was tangy, and sweet all at once, and I needed more.

I opened my mouth and took him into it as far as I could.

He slid into my warm and waiting mouth easily, his tip pressing against the back of my throat.

The pressure was familiar and welcoming, I loved feeling filled by them.

Being full of them. I ran my tongue along the underside of him and then slowly, gently, began bobbing up and down on him.

He had a hold on my hair, but he didn’t drive my movements, content to let me steer the ship.

But he still led, whether he knew it or not. I watched his body's reaction carefully. Taking his cues and driving him crazy with need.

“Fuck baby,” Ezra whispered through gritted teeth as I sucked on the tip of him.

“She looks so good on her knees,” Thorne replied, quietly. I could hear the strain in his voice. I knew he was as turned on as the two of us were. I wished I could reach his cock to stroke it with my fingers. Or better yet, slide him into my wet and desperate pussy.

At the thought of it, I dipped my fingers lower, beneath the band of my pants and into my heat.

I found myself wet and throbbing as I circled my fingers against my clit.

I moaned around Ezra’s cock, which muffled the sound, but sent a wave of vibrations through him and he grunted, before pressing his hands in my hair and jutted his hips up until he was well and truly fucking my mouth.

I let him take over now, content to let him use my mouth while my fingers chased my orgasm.

His cock twitched, his cum painting my tongue. I swallowed his every drop as I found my own release.

There was a glorious few seconds of stifled euphoria, then when his body and my body stilled, he helped me up and pressed an eager kiss to my lips.

“Bring me those fingers, love. I’m starving,” Thorne demanded. I shot a glance at Ezra who gave me a sated and satisfied smile.

He nodded, smacking me on the ass playfully as I took careful steps toward the front of the bus. I came to a stop near the open driver’s cage where Thorne was sitting, and without tearing his eyes from the road he opened his mouth for me.

It was sinful, dirty, and so incredibly hot as I slipped my fingers into his open mouth and he closed his lips around them.

His tongue drank my release from them, and I had to bite my lips to keep from releasing another loud groan of pleasure.

When he was sure to steal every drop from me, he let me pull my fingers back.

He licked his lips with a devilish grin.

“Like a five-course meal, love,” he teased. I smacked his shoulder playfully.

“Now both of you, get some sleep,” Thorne said, his voice low but firm, the kind of command laced with care. His eyes found mine, steady and soft around the edges, before shifting to Ezra’s in the rearview mirror. “I mean it.”

I bent and brushed a kiss against his lips, quick and careful. A silent thank you, a wordless I love you, before pulling away before I could tempt him into more or distract him from the road ahead.

Then I turned to Ezra, whose eyes hadn’t left me. He looked exhausted but fulfilled. I leaned down, letting our foreheads touch for a breath before I kissed him too, short, sweet, but lingering just enough.

“Sleep,” I whispered against his lips.

He nodded, fingers brushing mine as I moved away.

I claimed the empty row behind him, curling up against the window as best I could. The seats were stiff and narrow, but I was exhausted enough to feel comfortable anyway. My body was worn and aching, but my heart felt light. Whole.

I closed my eyes and let the rhythm of the road lull me, the low hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the frame wrapping around me like a lullaby until finally, rest came.

I awoke to golden light spilling softly through the bus window, warming my cheeks. It was the kind of light that didn’t demand your attention but coaxed you gently back to the world.

Blinking against the sun, I sat up slowly, my muscles stiff but not screaming, just a quiet ache that reminded me I was still alive, still healing. And that felt like a gift.

There was a low hum of voices around the bus.

Briar was behind the wheel now, alert and focused.

Devrin and Ezra sat a few rows up, speaking in hushed tones, voices low and familiar.

Across from me, Thorne lay curled into the bench seat, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

I smiled down at him, quietly grateful that he hadn’t been too stubborn to hand over the reins to Briar for a few hours of real rest.

I stretched, letting out a quiet groan as my spine cracked into place. It hurt, but in a clean, satisfying way.

“How are you feeling?” Ezra asked, his voice drawing my gaze. He was watching me now.

“I’m alright,” I said, studying his face. “You?”

He looked good. Some color had returned to his cheeks, and while the burns still peeked from beneath the bandages wrapped around his neck and arms, the skin looked better. Healing, if scarred. He’d carry those marks forever, but they didn’t seem to drag him down.

My stomach growled violently.

Ezra chuckled and tossed something toward me. I caught it midair, an apple, slightly bruised, but still firm and vibrant red.

“When did you get this?” I asked, examining it like it might be a mirage.

“When Briar and Thorne switched shifts,” Devrin answered from up front. “We passed through a grove on the outskirts of Steelheart, near the Wilds. Picked up some fresh stuff. Not a feast, but it’ll hold us.”

I nodded gratefully and bit into the apple. The juice exploded across my tongue, sweet, crisp, cold. It was possibly the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I closed my eyes for a second to savor it.

Then I glanced at Ezra again and felt a slow blush creep into my cheeks.

Okay. Maybe not the most delicious thing.

“How close are we?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Any minute now,” Briar called from the driver’s seat. She met my eyes in the mirror and grinned. “Good morning, beautiful.”

The compliment sent a flutter spiraling through my chest. I smiled back, warmth blooming across my cheeks. “Good morning,” I replied softly.

“It’s the moment of truth,” Devrin said, adjusting his seatbelt. “Time to find out if the Wildguard was enough to rally the troops.”

He didn’t mean it like a challenge, but it landed in my chest like one. My heart tightened. I could only hope we’d done enough, that the Runaways believed in us as much as we believed in them. That they knew, like we did, the time for waiting was long past.

Ezra nudged Thorne’s foot with the toe of his boot. Thorne startled awake, sitting up sharply with sleep-mussed hair flopping into his eyes. He blinked at me, confused for half a second, then smiled, slow and crooked. So damn adorable.

“We’re almost there,” I explained softly.

My pulse quickened as we crested a small hill, the tires rumbling over uneven ground. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, trying to steady my breath.

In the distance, the gleam of Praxis's outer gates shimmered gold in the rising sun. But it wasn’t the city that stole the breath from my lungs.

At the base of the hill, thousands of people stood waiting.

Tents. Weapons. Painted banners bearing the moth symbol fluttered in the wind. Supplies. An army. My throat went tight. My heart pounded against my ribs like a war drum.

We drove slowly into the crowd. As we passed, heads turned. Eyes widened as they saw us through the windows. Then came the cheers, wild, uncontainable sound breaking through the morning stillness like thunder.

They knew who we were. They had been waiting for us.

“They came,” I whispered.

“Holy shit,” Devrin breathed.

“I wish Ma could’ve seen this,” Thorne murmured. His voice cracked slightly as he looked up into the mirror, meeting Briar’s eyes. She glanced at him with something like pride and sorrow tangled in her gaze.

I reached out and took Thorne’s hand. Gave it a squeeze. Then looked at Briar and offered her a soft smile full of gratitude.

She slowed the bus to a careful stop.

We were dirty, scraped, bloodied, and barely clothed in anything that resembled dignity. But I had never felt more powerful.

The Runaways were here.