Page 36 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘A soul bond goes beyond an intense physical attraction. It manifests as a soul-deep instinct, almost primal in nature – to protect, to touch, to claim’

– Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History

W ITH ONE BACKWARDS glance, Wren nearly destroyed him. Her gaze was heated, her cheeks tipped with pink, a beautiful flush blossoming down her neck.

She was thinking of him . He could feel it.

As soon as her eyes met his, an ember caught alight.

All the blood in his body rushed south as the images of what they’d done between these very shelves flashed before him.

From her expression, she was picturing the same moment between them, and the urge to snatch her away from the others and throw her against the wall was almost overpowering.

Only the discipline of a Warsword kept him in check – that and the fact that he didn’t know if she’d return the sentiment or slap him across the face.

Or both. He’d gladly take both, he decided, as she tore her eyes away from him and entered the private study room, closing the door after her teammates.

Torj and Cal stood watch shoulder-to-shoulder outside, and though Torj didn’t feel like talking, he needed to take his mind off his hardening cock. ‘How’s it been with Zavier?’ he asked Cal, scanning the shelves, monitoring the occasional footsteps nearby.

‘Intense,’ Cal replied. ‘We had endless meetings here with Audra and the High Chancellor before we rode to Ciraun for more meetings with Talemir and the shadow-touched. There was a lot of controversy about his return and what consequences he should face for keeping his identity hidden and not returning to the throne sooner.’

‘What did Talemir have to say about it?’

Cal shrugged. ‘That he never wanted the burden of leading a whole kingdom, and he was glad for the heir’s return in any capacity.’

‘And Zavier’s handling it well?’ Torj asked.

‘ Well might be a bit of a stretch. He barely sleeps, he’s lost weight... and he’s certainly more of a recluse than my last charge.’

‘That might not be the world’s worst thing,’ Torj ventured. ‘Definitely less drinking and tavern-hopping.’

Cal huffed a laugh. ‘Probably for the best.’

‘Speaking of – any clue where Professor Vulpine has got to?’

‘None, which is surprising. I half expected him to barge into my quarters this morning and demand a visit to the Mortar and Pestle.’

‘You know Kipp... He’s always got several plates spinning at once.’

Cal made a noise of agreement. ‘How were your travels?’

‘The rescue mission went as well as could be expected. Hawthorne and I managed to get—’

‘That’s not the travel I was talking about,’ Cal interrupted.

‘Oh?’

The younger Warsword rolled his eyes. ‘I meant once you met up with Wren. You really fucked things up there, didn’t you?’

‘So I’ve been told. Several times,’ Torj replied testily.

‘You said you wouldn’t hurt her.’ Cal’s voice was soft, but accusatory.

Torj’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘It wasn’t what I wanted.’

‘It’s what happened.’

Torj felt his jaw tic as his temper rose. ‘Stay out of it, Cal.’

He expected his former protégé to back off, as he would have done when he was an apprentice, but Cal fixed him with a hard look. ‘No. I won’t. What do you have to say for yourself? I saw the way you looked at her then, and I see it now. You love her. So why did you do what you did?’

‘It wasn’t that simple,’ Torj ground out. He hadn’t signed up to be interrogated. It was none of the Flaming Arrow’s fucking business.

But Cal wasn’t done pushing him. ‘Then why did you come back? Why not go abroad like you intended?’

‘You think I wanted this? You think that this isn’t agony for me?’ The words flew from his mouth in anger and it was too late to take them back.

‘Then fucking do something about it,’ Cal snapped.

‘You have no idea what’s coming, Cal.’

‘You think I don’t know unrest when I see it? You think I lived through the same war as you and came out the other side none the wiser? Whatever is coming, you’re a fool if you don’t realize you’re stronger together than apart.’

But before Torj could open his mouth to retaliate, the door swung open behind them and Zavier strode out.

‘Cal, I think we need to make a trip to the conservatory,’ he said, with a curious glance at Torj.

Did he hear us? Torj worried. Surely we weren’t that loud ...

But Zavier didn’t spare him another look. The long-lost Prince of Naarva simply waved goodbye to the two women inside and strode off with Cal in tow.

Moments later, Dessa made her excuses and bid them farewell, leaving Torj alone with his charge. He peered inside the study room to find Wren wincing as she rolled her shoulders.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, startling her as he stepped inside.

‘You scared me!’ she said with her hand over her heart. ‘No. I’m fine.’ She turned back to the book in front of her and rested her head in her hands with a sigh. ‘I don’t know if I’m going to be able to recreate the cure I used on Zavier,’ she said softly.

Torj’s chest seized for her. ‘You got what you needed from Delmira. Why wouldn’t it work this time?’

Wren rubbed her temples. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things tend to not go to plan around here. If I don’t succeed...’

‘You will.’ He said it firmly, with no room for compromise, and he believed it with every fibre of his being. He believed in her. He always had.

Wren fitted her hands to her hips and arched her back, stretching what were clearly aching muscles. Guilt lanced through Torj as his gaze dropped to her breasts, which were thrust forwards. She was in pain and he was ogling her. He truly was a bastard.

‘Here.’ He moved towards her without thinking – apparently, he was doing a lot of that lately – and rested his hands on her shoulders.

A slight gasp escaped Wren, and all he wanted to do was swallow that sound with a kiss, but instead he stood behind her and slowly started to knead her shoulders.

Wren melted into his touch. ‘Oh.’

‘You’re made of knots,’ he told her quietly, working his thumb over a particularly hard spot behind her shoulder blades. He could feel her skin heating beneath the fabric of her gown.

‘I haven’t been moving as much. I was stretching and training with Thea every morning before we left here—’

A moan broke from Wren’s lips, her head tipping back slightly.

The sound went straight to Torj’s cock. It was a miracle he was able to keep the same rhythm with his hands as he worked across her tight muscles.

The flush across the back of Wren’s neck told him that she hadn’t meant to be so vocal. Torj only just managed to bite back a comment about enjoying her noises.

She cleared her throat. ‘The exercise was helping,’ she continued, as though she hadn’t made a sound. ‘But since we returned I’ve moved from one workspace to another, and... Well, apparently my back isn’t what it used to be.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Torj said with a soft smile. ‘Can I get you something for the pain?’

‘I’ll survive.’ But she leaned into his touch with a quiet sound of relief. ‘Right... there.’

Torj had never been more aware of the intoxicating scent of her, finding himself dangerously close to inhaling that hint of spring rain and jasmine directly, like an addict.

‘You could train with me,’ he ventured, working down the length of her spine as much as her chair would allow.

There was that arch again. Furies save me .

His heart felt raw, as though he had freshly ripped that bond apart all over again. Sometimes he thought he could still see glimpses of it – glimmers of gold. But Wren had said nothing, hadn’t seen it. And that meant there was still a chance to save her from him.

‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she said suddenly, wrenching him from the fantasy he’d been having where, in the midst of a training session, Wren straddled him as she had in the tent during the storm.

Torj’s hands stilled. ‘I—’

Wren pulled away from him, gathering her books and getting to her feet. ‘I think it’s time I returned to my room. I have work to do.’

‘You should rest—’

‘Until I can present the cure as my opus to the masters, there will be no rest for me, Bear Slayer.’