Page 64 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘When twin flames dance, time itself bows to watch’

– Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History

H OW HAD SHE lived without his kiss, his touch? The feel of his skin against hers was like an answer to a long-forgotten question.

The gold thread of their soul bond shone brightly, in defiance of all they had withstood together. She felt that bond thrumming in her chest, connecting her to the Warsword who held her. His essence was in her blood, in her bones, in the very fabric of her existence somehow.

Still inside her, Torj kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as though they had all the time in the world. As though they weren’t standing in the ruins of the enemy’s alchemy workshop.

Wren deepened the kiss, revelling in the taste of him, in the knowledge that he was hers. Her fingers tangled in his hair.

Gold will turn to silver .

She banished the words from her mind, losing herself in Torj as their kiss evolved into a frenzy of fresh desire. Wet with his release, she could feel him hardening again inside her and she rolled her hips experimentally.

Torj groaned. ‘You have no idea how much I want to stay here and fuck you senseless...’

Wren brushed the loose lock of silver from his brow. ‘But...?’

‘It’s not safe. They’ll have reported the attack by now.

We need to get out of here so we can have a force lying in wait.

Wilder will have put it in motion already.

’ Torj lifted her off him, placing her carefully on the ground.

He didn’t release her completely, though, holding her steady while she regained feeling in her legs and cleaned herself up.

Around them, the golden thread dissipated.

Wren reached out to touch the final fading remnants, but her fingers hit only air. ‘I still don’t fully understand it...’ she murmured, looking up at Torj in wonder. ‘I thought you severed it?’

‘I did.’ There was regret in Torj’s sea-blue gaze. ‘Perhaps some bonds can’t be broken.’

Wren cupped his face. ‘I’m glad.’

Torj placed a hand over hers, pressing his brow to hers. With such reverence, he said, ‘I love you.’

‘I love you, too.’ Wren’s cheeks ached. Had it been so long since she’d smiled like this?

Torj traced a thumb over her lips. ‘There’s nothing more beautiful...’

Wren’s eyes burned. But the tears that threatened to fall were foreign to her, unlocked by something other than grief and rage.

Happiness.

Was this what that felt like?

Torj laced his fingers through hers, pulling her towards the stairs. ‘Let’s go, Embers.’

When they emerged from the abandoned cobbler’s shop, Wren was startled to find that it was daylight outside. It felt as though weeks had passed; so much had changed.

‘Should we wait for Roderick?’ she said with a glance at the clock tower looming above the underbelly of Old Town. ‘He should be passing through on the next hour.’

Torj laughed. ‘We’re not sitting in the back of some cart. I’ve left Tucker at the stables. You’re riding with me, Embers.’

The city passed them by. Sharing the saddle with Torj was different this time.

Wren sat between the cradle of his muscular thighs with joy sparking in her heart.

The press of his chest against her back was solid, reassuring, and he held the reins loosely with one hand, the other free to roam her body.

‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he murmured, brushing his lips against the side of her neck.

‘I can see that,’ Wren replied, leaning into his touch. ‘But perhaps we should wait until we’re not in such a crowded place?’

‘I don’t give a fuck where we are,’ he growled, cupping her over her skirts.

Desire unfurled at the base of her spine, spreading to all her extremities, pooling at her core. Torj had always been passionate, but the soul bond had unleashed him. And she loved it.

But as they passed beneath the Highguard gates and started down the road back to Drevenor, reality came sweeping in like a tide. For now, Wren had everything to lose.

She must have stiffened in the saddle, because Torj’s grip around her tightened, his large palm spanning her abdomen, pulling her closer to him. But it was more than that.

‘You can sense my emotions, can’t you?’ she asked, covering his hand with her own.

‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I realized it until now, but sometimes I see your dreams too... On the way to Drevenor for the first time? I saw that nightmare you had as if it were my own.’

Wren remembered the way his eyes had darted to the exact place the shadows had been in her mind. It had been there, right from the beginning...

‘And when we were in that tent during the storm?’ he continued. ‘I think we shared the same dream then...’

Wren’s cheeks heated. She had woken with his cock in her hand and her thighs slick with need. Torture. It had been utter torture to have him so close and to deny herself his touch. Gods, the man was in her blood.

The hand at her stomach lifted, fingers stroking her throat.

‘I dreamed I was kissing you here,’ he told her, before his caress descended to her collarbone.

‘And here...’ His fingers moved lower, tracing the fabric of her bodice, her breasts.

‘And here...’ Warm lips grazed her neck, moving in time with his words, and a soft cry escaped her as he sucked gently on the sensitive skin there.

Torj shifted his hips behind her, the rock-hard length of him undeniable against her backside.

‘You were grinding against me, and so wet, Wren... You were so wet for me.’

Wren hadn’t realized that she was grinding against him now. She blinked, suddenly dazed. ‘I dreamed the same...’ she murmured, arching as Torj squeezed her breast.

‘I know,’ he replied with a low chuckle. ‘I woke up with your hand on my cock, remember?’

‘I remember.’ Her breath hitched as his hand reached for the hem of her skirts. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I have to touch you,’ he groaned.

She wished she could see his face, the pained expression of need she knew was there. ‘You are touching me.’

‘Not nearly enough,’ he told her, pausing as her skirts slid up one thigh. ‘Can I make you come again?’

The road before them was empty, the canopy joining overhead shrouding them in dappled shade – a false sense of privacy. Were anyone to join the trail, there would be no hiding themselves. Wren didn’t care.

‘Yes, Bear Slayer. Make me come.’

His hand slipped beneath her skirts, teasing her by drawing circles over her inner thigh, each movement bringing him closer to where she wanted him, only to deny her.

She made a noise of frustration, wriggling in the saddle, seeking what only he could give her.

A laugh rumbled against her back. ‘So impatient,’ he murmured, continuing his torture.

‘These shared experiences... This bond,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Do you think... Do you think it makes us—’

His knuckle trailed down the centre of her. ‘Makes us what, Embers?’ he said, voice low.

His touch was agonizingly light, barely a whisper, but fanning the flames of her need into an inferno.

‘More in tune with one another?’ she rasped.

Torj’s fingers slid through the wetness between her legs and plunged inside her. ‘Shall we find out?’

Wren moaned, loud enough that the sparrows in the trees fled from their branches.

Torj laughed, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit as he fucked her with his fingers. ‘Good thing no one’s around to hear you screaming my name.’

Wren was too hot, her clothes too tight on her sensitive skin. She wanted to rake her nails across him, wanted to feel the thick length of him filling her again. She reached behind her, fumbling for his belt.

But Torj stopped her. ‘Bond or not, your pleasure is my pleasure, Embers,’ he said, slowly pumping her with his fingers.

She surrendered to him, tilting her hips to give him better access, allowing the pressure to start building.

Every curl of his fingers, every brush against her clit had her writhing.

Torj would let her climb the peak of climax, higher and higher until she was panting, and then change his rhythm, slowing down to teasing, luxurious strokes, edging her closer and closer to madness.

‘It feels...’ But she didn’t know what it felt like, because it felt like nothing else she’d ever known: a pull between them, stealing the air from her lungs, lighting a fire within.

‘I know,’ he murmured.

Gods, her body came alive in his presence, calling out for his touch, his kiss. She forgot they were on horseback, that she was rocking in the saddle. She forgot they were on a public road, where anyone might pass by.

Wren forgot everything but him.

Her nails dug into the thick muscles of Torj’s thighs, and her head tilted back, leaning against him as he drew out every ripple of pleasure.

The bond flared between them again, gold thread entwining around them once more.

It was beautiful.

And when Wren came apart on his hand, crying out his name, he held her tightly.