Page 17 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘A poisoner’s code should value simplicity: a single pinprick, a single drop, a single heartbeat between life and death’

– An Encyclopaedia of Deadly Plants

H E ’ D SAID THE wrong thing. He knew it as soon as the words left his lips and Wren’s taunting ceased. Instead, she was still and quiet, her freezing feet warming between his calves.

Gods, he had dreamed of having her naked in his arms again, so many times.

And now she was, but for all the wrong reasons.

His cock was just about punching a hole through the blanket, yet he couldn’t do anything about it.

When her hand had grazed his shaft he’d nearly moaned at her touch, had nearly flipped her on her back and settled himself between her legs, where he belonged—

No . He had to stop thinking like that. He didn’t belong with Wren. She certainly wasn’t his to claim. He’d given up that right. And so he’d try to keep her warm in the night, nothing more. Though who could blame him for savouring the feel of her naked body against him for the last time?

He mentally traced every part where they were connected.

Feet to calves.

Thigh between thighs.

Her stomach to his side.

Her breasts to his chest.

Her hand resting over his ruined heart.

His hand on hers.

His arm curling beneath her, palm spread across the small of her back.

And her damp hair splayed across his shoulder.

Furies save me , he thought, staring up at the lantern he’d hung above.

He noticed immediately when Wren’s breathing changed, her breasts rising and falling against him.

Small mercies, she was asleep.

The feel of her was addictive, so soft and warm against the hard planes of his body. He tried with all his might to keep himself leashed, but when her hands started roaming across his skin, he couldn’t contain himself a moment longer.

‘Fuck...’ he groaned as her fingers traced over his nipples, and down to his navel. Another low, carnal sound escaped him as her lips pressed against the column of his throat and finally captured his mouth.

Wren’s kiss felt like coming home.

Warm, wet, and wild.

Spearing his fingers through her hair, he took control, nipping at her lower lip, demanding entry. She opened for him and his tongue brushed hers, coaxing a whimper of need from her.

Gods, that sound would be the end of him.

He rolled her onto her back, not breaking their feverish kiss, but giving him access to her naked body beneath the blanket. He let his fingers trail down her neck and sternum. Wren arched and twisted, pushing her breast into his palm, her nipple hard beneath his touch.

‘Torj,’ she murmured into their kiss, rocking and grinding against the hard length of him until stars dotted his vision.

He circled her nipple with a featherlight, teasing touch, before he pinched hard, eliciting a gasp from her.

‘Are you wet for me, Embers?’ he practically growled, revelling in the way her body writhed for him, seeking the pleasure he promised.

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Show me,’ he demanded.

The blanket shifted as Wren reached between her legs, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she touched herself.

Torj was captivated, and had never been more aroused in his whole fucking life. Until her hand appeared above the blanket, her fingers glistening with her need.

With a moan rumbling through his chest, Torj snatched her wrist and brought those wet fingers to his mouth.

Drunk on the taste of her, he licked them clean.

But he was done playing with her. He braced himself over her, and Wren’s legs fell open for him, allowing his cock to slide through her desire, coating him.

‘Is this all for me?’ he murmured, settling himself at her entrance.

‘Yes...’ she gasped, tilting her hips for him. ‘Please...’

Torj slid his length over her clit, relishing how she bucked for more beneath him. She was so wet, so ready for him.

Her hands gripped his backside, hard enough that her fingernails dug into his flesh, the sting only adding to the sensation of being right on the edge of sliding home.

He kissed her, and positioned himself again, right where he knew she wanted him, ready to thrust his hips—

Torj jerked awake, a moan on his lips. Watery light filtered through the canvas, no thunder or rain to be heard.

A dream. It had been a dream. One he regretted waking from with every fibre of his being. Catching his breath, he came back to himself, the tent coming into sharper focus around him. But that feeling of longing lingered in his body, and he found himself as hard as granite.

With good reason.

Wren’s hand was wrapped around his cock.

Without any more sudden movements, he turned his head, finding her fast asleep beside him. Even in slumber her brow was slightly furrowed, as though she were warring within her dream. Her lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks, and he noted how her new scar cut through her freckles.

The blanket had slipped slightly, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulder. But her grip on him was like iron. And every time he shifted, a bolt of pleasure rolled through him.

Furies save me. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he had stayed asleep.

The dream was a far more pleasant outcome than any he surmised would come to pass.

.. To him, the possibilities were: Wren would wake and think him a complete pervert, or be completely mortified; she’d move in her sleep and he’d come all over them both; or she’d startle and yank his manhood clean from his body.

None of these options pleased him.

He resolved to try to move her hand, and if she woke, he’d simply have to explain. With a grimace, he reached down beneath the blanket and slowly tried to prize her fingers from him—

Wren startled with a gasp, and in a blur of movement, she was suddenly astride him, her hair loose and wild, her poison-tipped pin pressed against his throat.

‘You’ve been practicing,’ Torj managed, not daring to move, not when he was a hair’s breadth away from deadly oblivion or being sheathed inside her. Pain bloomed in the wounds on his back, but he didn’t give a fuck.

Wren was on top of him. Naked.

She seemed to realize it at the same time he did, and yet she did not yield. ‘What were you doing?’ she demanded, unabashed, the pin still held at his jugular.

Torj didn’t move a muscle, even though he could feel the heat of her against him, the dampness there telling him she might have been having a similar dream. ‘You had me in a compromising position,’ he gritted out. ‘I was trying to extricate myself.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh?’

But Torj had let this go on long enough. With a hard strike of his hand, he knocked the poison-tipped pin aside, disarming Wren and flipping her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head and her body beneath his.

‘Best keep practicing, Poisoner,’ he murmured.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, noted how her back arched, pressing her bare breasts to his chest. And her eyes... Her eyes grew hooded with lust as her legs tangled with his.

Gods, he had to stop, had to get away from her, before all his restraint became nothing but dust in the wind.

But the way she was looking at him... He’d yearned to see that expression for weeks, to know that she still wanted him, despite everything he’d done—

Torj suddenly found himself being flipped onto his front, caught off guard by the swift twist of Wren’s legs. What he’d mistaken for passionate entanglement was, in fact, a calculated move to gain the upper hand.

In one fluid motion, Wren straddled his hips from behind, her weight pressing him into the ground. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back sharply. The sudden pain elicited a gasp of surprise from Torj’s lips.

Wren leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. ‘I’ve practised plenty,’ she hissed.

Taking advantage of his stunned state, Wren snatched the blanket and her clothes. She rose in one graceful movement, leaving him naked and alone in the tent, his cock harder than ever.