Page 37 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘A guardian’s oath is written in footprints that must never be seen, in battles that must never be fought, in sacrifices that must never be known’

– Mastering the Craft of Close Protection

‘H AVE YOU DROWNED in there?’ Wren called through the bathing room door.

For hours, she had been working at her desk, barefoot and harried-looking, pointedly ignoring Torj as he cleaned his hammer in the chair by her bed.

It was long past midnight, and watching her attempt to rub her own shoulders for the tenth time was the final straw for him.

He’d ducked back through the adjoining door to his room, putting his hammer away, retrieving the pouch he’d asked Farissa for and shutting himself in the bathing chamber.

He opened the door on her side. ‘Is that wishful thinking?’

‘Perhaps,’ she replied, her eyes narrowing as she tried to peer around him.

He stepped aside, revealing the wooden tub, nearly full to the brim with hot, steaming water. Instead of the oil lamp, he’d placed several thick candles around the room, and a fresh towel waited on the rail.

‘Get in,’ he told her.

She stared at the bath, and the purple florets floating atop the water, taking a step forwards. ‘Is that lavender?’

Torj suddenly felt ridiculous, his cheeks flaming, but he was too far gone now. ‘It’s supposed to be good for sore muscles...’

Wren opened and closed her mouth.

Torj studied her carefully. She wasn’t angry.

In fact, her eyes were lined with silver.

She went to the side of the tub and trailed her fingers across the water’s surface, disturbing a few florets of lavender.

She captured her lower lip between her teeth and gave a slight shake of the head, as though she couldn’t believe the sight before her. Torj took that as a good sign.

‘Go on,’ he encouraged her. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

But Wren’s gaze was intense as it lifted from the water and locked on his, her hands drifting to the ties of her apron.

Torj was frozen in place as she pulled it over her head and dropped it to the tiled floor.

Next, her fingers found the buttons at the front of her gown, and no amount of training or discipline could stop Torj from following the folds of fabric as they fell away from her, revealing a column of bare, perfect skin.

Torj inhaled sharply. There was no scar from the battle where Wren had borne the wound inflicted upon him by Lord Silas, their soul bond linking them in shared pain. Wren’s chest had no marred flesh, no reminder of that horrific day.

She watched him, and her hand went to that very spot on her chest, the place where there should have been a mark. ‘We’re soul bonded, aren’t we?’ she asked. ‘Whatever it is... I feel it too.’

Every nerve ending in Torj’s body was on edge, his fingernails cutting into his palms as he clenched his fists.

Gods, he wanted her. He wanted her to understand.

He wanted to explain that he’d never stopped loving her, that he’d only done what he did to save her, to protect her.

And if he had the choice, he’d do it all again; he’d endure it a million times over, to keep her safe.

But the words didn’t come to him. For if he told her, what then. ..?

‘Have it your way, then.’ Wren’s hands went to the hem of her skirt and she pulled her entire dress up and over her head.

Torj felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He couldn’t breathe. Not as the most beautiful woman in the midrealms stood naked before him, every inch of skin completely bare.

‘Guess you have your answer about the undergarments now,’ she quipped, dropping her dress to the floor.

‘Are you trying to kill me?’ Torj managed, his voice hoarse.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

He knew what those curves felt like beneath his touch, he knew the weight of her breasts in his palms, he knew the sound she would make if he were to close his mouth around her nipple.

And gods, he knew the wet, tight heat of her when he slid inside.

He wasn’t thinking. He simply moved, closing the gap between them, so he was close enough to see the goosebumps rising across her skin. Her nipples were hard, her breaths coming quicker, and her eyes... Her eyes were dark with want.

He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to haul her mouth to his, his cock so hard it was painful. Desire coursed through him – a molten current, begging for touch, begging for release. ‘You’re not fighting fair...’ he murmured, his hand closing around her hip.

‘Never said I would,’ Wren replied, watching as his thumb stroked the juncture there.

Torj thought his heart might punch right out of his chest. ‘Get in the bath, Embers.’ He heard the warning in his own voice and saw how it made Wren shiver in anticipation.

‘Or what?’ She was toying with him, playing with fire.

His grip tightened on her hip. ‘Or I won’t be held responsible for what I do next.’

‘I’m sure I could handle it, Bear Slayer.’ Wren’s hands went to his belt, the outline of his erection clear beneath his leathers.

But Torj caught her by the wrists. ‘You’ve been antagonizing me for days.

Punishing me...’ His voice was thick with restrained need.

‘I get it. I deserve it. But I’ve reached the end of my tether, Embers.

’ He spun her around and bent her over the edge of the tub, so that her backside was on complete display, and he could see the arousal gleaming between her legs.

Wren whimpered as he nudged her feet apart and held her in place over the ledge. She was so fucking perfect, so exposed for him while he was still fully clothed. Capturing her wrists in one hand, he let his other trail down her spine, down over her backside.

‘I’ve been hard for days on end. For weeks,’ he growled in her ear as his fingers grazed between her thighs, just shy of where he knew she wanted him.

‘Torj...’ she moaned, her body writhing beneath his hold, her back arching as she sought the friction she was clearly desperate for.

He slid his fingers down her centre, groaning at the wetness he found there. Wren bucked her hips, and Torj allowed his touch to circle her entrance, teasing, dipping in a fraction before retreating to rub her clit.

‘Tell me you haven’t thought about it,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me you haven’t been reliving how we fucked...’

She was panting now, rocking back into his hand, looking over her shoulder, craning her neck to watch what he was doing to her.

Torj traced her entrance again. ‘Do you remember what it felt like when I was inside you?’ he murmured against her ear. ‘Do you remember how perfectly we fit?’

Wren tensed, as though she were recalling those very details, the very imprint of him.

Torj’s cock was throbbing, desperate to be freed from the confines of his leathers and seated deep inside of Wren. But this wasn’t about him. It was about the poisoner, who was on the brink of begging... A thought that pleased him to no end.

For a moment, he thought he saw gold spark between them, which was impossible. That connection between them was gone. He’d torn the damn thing apart himself. He’d felt it rip between them, had felt every ounce of pain.

But there was no pain now. Not as he kissed her shoulder, then the length of her spine, all while she ground herself against his hand, leaving his fingers soaking.

He slid two fingers inside her and she gasped.

‘Do you remember, Embers?’ he said, pumping them in and out of her in a torturously slow glide.

‘Yes,’ she moaned.

Gods, he wanted to be inside her. But this was about beating her at her own game. ‘Embers...’ he said between kisses along her neck, still fucking her with his fingers, drawing out her pleasure, increasing his rhythm.

‘Yes?’ she whimpered.

He leaned in close. ‘If you’re going to make me suffer, imagining you with no undergarments day in and day out...’

He stilled his hand and withdrew his fingers.

Wren made a sound of protest.

‘Then you can suffer with me.’

Her voice trembled with unmet need. ‘What?’

‘You said we weren’t fighting fair,’ he told her, leaving her by the tub and making for his room. ‘Two can play at that game.’