Page 10 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘The bond between guard and ward strengthens with time’

– Mastering the Craft of Close Protection

G ODS , I ’ VE MISSED you.

The words bloomed in his mind and formed on the tip of his tongue, aching inside him.

He’d missed the freckles scattered across her nose, the storm in her eyes, the way her hand drifted to the belt of potions he knew was beneath her grey travelling cloak.

He moved towards her without deciding to do so, drawn to her as though in a trance.

Wren Embervale was more beautiful than she’d ever been, and Torj could hardly breathe as he drank in the sight of her: a freshwater stream in the middle of a desert.

Her bronze hair was swept up in a dishevelled bun, damp tendrils curling at her nape.

As he drew closer, the scent of spring rain and jasmine enveloped him, and it was all he could do not to come apart at the seams. She was devastating.

Despite the disastrous events that had brought him back to her, despite how bad things had become with Silas and the People’s Vanguard.

.. he couldn’t help but feel grateful to have the chance to see her again.

A part of him had hoped that with the bond between them torn her effect on him would be lessened, or at least bearable.

But even without an otherworldly connection to one another, he was utterly overpowered by her.

Her gaze traced over him in return, seeming to catalogue his cuts and bruises, her breasts rising and falling with each laboured breath.

‘Well,’ she said at last, her throat bobbing. ‘This ought to be good.’

‘Wren—’

But she was already signalling to the others to set up camp for the night.

Kipp greeted him with a clap on his shoulder, a gesture that felt a little harder than necessary. ‘I assume you have much to tell us, Bear Slayer?’

Torj had forgotten the others were there.

He had followed the lure of the current right to her, the rest of the world fading away around him.

For him, there had only ever been Wren. And from the way she was looking at him.

.. The cloud of rage parted briefly as those green eyes tried to peer into his soul, to understand.

‘I do,’ he told Kipp. ‘And it’s not good.

’ Isn’t that the understatement of the century, he thought.

The state of the midrealms had gone from bad to worse, and Audra’s orders had left no room for debate.

It was at her bidding that he’d raced across the kingdoms to rejoin his former charge as her protector once more.

‘Right. I won’t be listening on an empty stomach,’ Kipp replied, glancing between the Warsword and poisoner before heading for their saddlebags.

As Torj built the fire, he stole glances at Wren.

Her expression was unreadable. In the flickering firelight, she was transformed – a gilded goddess, so beautiful that it hurt to look at her.

She had belonged to him once. For that fleeting moment, he’d been able to freely tuck her hair behind her ear, rest his hand on her thigh, press his lips to hers.

.. Now, the chasm between them was greater than ever.

He could feel their eyes on him, waiting for the news he brought, or for him to implode.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear it a moment longer.

He muttered an excuse and stepped away, standing on the edge of camp as night closed in around him.

The need for her burned so fiercely that he didn’t feel the chill in the air.

He ached to touch her, to talk to her, and he fought every raging instinct to go to her, to take her pain as his own.

But that was what had got them here. She’d taken his pain and nearly died for it.

It was only that stark reminder that had him standing guard alone, rooted to the spot.

Only he was not alone.

Grass rustled behind him.

Wren. He knew it was her before he turned, could somehow feel the world shift in her presence – that familiar electric charge in the air that made the fine hairs on his arms rise.

And there she was, the faint glow of the distant fire behind her painting gold across her skin, the moon illuminating the determined gleam in her eyes, like a lightning strike over dark water.

In a handful of strides, she closed the gap between them, staring up at him.

She was everywhere all at once, and he breathed in deeply, as though she were the air he desperately needed filling his lungs.

His whole body was too tight, a canvas stretched taut across a frame that was bound to snap.

Her stare was mesmerizing, so consuming that he couldn’t look away even if the world went up in flames.

He trembled with restraint as Wren’s hand came up between them, slipping between the V of his half-buttoned shirt.

‘What are you doing?’ he whispered hoarsely, barely breathing, his heart nearly bursting through his chest.

Mine, a voice whispered within him. Mine . The word came with memories of a different time – her laugh tickling his neck, her fingers tracing his tattoo in all of its ruined glory...

But she’s not yours , he argued with himself. You severed the bond. The beautiful thing between you is gone.

Wren’s fingertips brushed the lightning-shaped scars over his heart, sending a rush of desire through him that left him trembling. The ink seemed to pulse beneath her touch; his skin aflame at her command.

‘I wanted to see,’ she said, peering at the marred flesh, the ruined tattoo.

‘See what?’ he croaked.

She peered up at him through thick, dark lashes. ‘If it was real. If you still felt it...’ She trailed off.

Torj tipped his head to the stars, silently praying to the Furies to grant him mercy. He could deny it until he was blue in the face, but his body’s reaction to her? The way he looked at her? There was no hiding that. He’d been a fool to think he could.

‘You ended it with me,’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘I told you why.’

‘No,’ Wren replied. ‘You didn’t.’

‘It was never going to work—’

‘Do we have some sort of magical bond?’ she cut him off. ‘Beyond when we shared my power during the war?’

It was the last thing he had expected her to say, but clearly Thea had mentioned the damn book. How could she not?

He didn’t recover well. ‘Not any more.’

‘But we did?’ she pressed, searching his face, her eyes lined with silver.

‘It doesn’t matter now—’

A bolt of brilliant white lightning split the sky and, on instinct, Torj grabbed Wren, shielding her body with his – until he realized the storm closing in above was her doing, her magic singing beneath him.

For the first time in a long while, Wren looked scared.

‘You didn’t mean to do that?’ he murmured.

Thunder clapped overhead and he flinched, the realization dawning.

He had done this. Because of him, Wren’s magic was out of control.

.. Unbeknownst to her, their severed bond had left her power jagged and wild.

The tempest threatening to break around them was a mirror to the pain swimming in her gaze, pain he had caused.

‘Embers...’ Torj’s chest was tight as he cupped her face without thinking.

Those willow-green eyes flashed in anger, and she shoved him away with enough force to make him stumble. Her words were charged with all the power of the storm above. ‘You don’t get to call me that any more.’