Page 18 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

T he taste of smoky, roasted meat still lingers on my tongue, satisfying the hunger that gnawed at my stomach for most of the night.

The firepit crackles behind me, its glow warming the backs of my legs even as the night air wraps cool fingers around my arms. A sense of contentment flows through me and I quickly realize it’s more than just warmth and food.

It’s a deeper sense of safety curling through me, and that realization gives me pause.

Could it mean I have ties to this faction?

Hope pools low in my stomach and I fight the urge to let it grow. Before I know it, I’m nibbling on my bottom lip, lost in the possibilities I feel emanating through the soft hum of the earth through my feet.

Torryn eases to his feet before giving me a nod, beckoning me to join him. I blink rapidly, coming back to reality and note that the flames have died down to simmering embers while I was deep in thought.

It doesn’t take long to traverse the path to his home, and when he opens the carved door, the scent of the interior rushes to greet me as I step inside. Wood, dried herbs, and something vaguely sweet wrap around in a welcoming embrace.

Torryn lingers near the entrance after the door creaks shut behind us. His voice is low when he speaks.

“Are you sure you’re alright staying here?”

The question surprises me. I turn slightly, catching the flicker of hesitation in his golden gaze.

He adds, “I can ask around tomorrow. See if someone has space. Somewhere with a separate room, if you’d rather.”

Anxiety edges his tone, like he anticipates me admitting I don’t feel comfortable here…with him.

It catches me off guard.

Should I feel that way? Is there something I’m missing?

I shake my head before the doubt can settle in too deep. “No…this is fine, Torryn, I promise.”

His gaze lingers on me for a breath longer, as if weighing the truth of my answer, then he gives a slight nod and looks away. A muscle jumps in his jaw as he scratches the back of his neck with the edge of his thumb.

“There’s only one bed,” he mutters. “Didn’t think it’d be a problem until now. It’s big, but still, I figured that we could, uh…”

I glance past him as he trails off, eyes landing on the bed in question. It’s massive. Built into a low wooden frame pushed against the far wall, with a quilt and two pillows. Easily enough room for three people, let alone two.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I realize the source of his discomfort.

“Torryn,” I say gently, “It’s a huge bed. I could sleep on the opposite end and never come close to touching you. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

That gets his attention. He turns toward me fully, arms folding over his chest before his brows draw together. Faint confusion ripples across his scarred face.

“You trust me that much?” he asks gently.

The softness in his question surprises me, and I blink. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t know me well,” he admits.

While he isn’t wrong, the only thing I’ve trusted since awakening in that battlefield is my gut, and it hasn’t led me astray yet.

“I know you’ve never once made me feel unsafe,” I offer with a soft smile. “You being this hesitant and respectful shows me all I need to know about this decision.”

My words land with a quiet finality, and for a moment, he just watches me.

“It’s just a bed,” I add.

His gaze drops to the floor, then slides back up to meet mine.

“I told you that I see the dueling sides of you with your fierce strength and gentle care, but I worry about someone taking advantage of the latter.”

A weight presses gently against my chest with his words.

“While I am on the side that’s fighting against the humans,” he admits before his eyes narrow, “I’m not blind to the unsavory souls that reside in our factions.”

There’s no judgment in his tone for my trust, only concern.

Maybe he’s right.

Torryn turns away without another word, moving toward a broad wooden chest tucked beneath a narrow window. The hinges creak as he lifts the lid, the interior dark and cluttered with neatly folded clothes and what looks like heavier fur blankets.

“I’ll find you something to wear,” he murmurs, “I can’t guarantee it’ll fit well, but it will at least be more comfortable to sleep in.”

He lifts a shirt from the pile, holds it up, frowns, then swaps it out for one with sleeves. The final choice is a long-sleeved dark gray shirt, clearly worn in from the stretched out neckline.

He holds it out without ceremony, and I step forward to take it.

“Thanks,” I say quietly, closing my hand around the soft material.

He nods toward a curtained alcove near the corner as a flush stains his cheeks. “Washroom’s through there. There’s a basin and cloth if you need it.”

The curtain rustles as I slip behind it. The space is small and simple with smooth stone walls, a worn basin carved from what looks like a rock of some kind, and shelves lined with rolled towels and sprigs of drying herbs.

I peel off the travel clothes Ilyria provided me, folding them neatly.

I make quick work of wiping away the sweat and grime of the day spent in a field and our travel before tugging on the shirt.

It hangs to mid-thigh, sleeves drooping past my hands.

The fabric is soft against my skin, holding traces of cedar smoke and something distinctly Torryn.

Warmth pools in my stomach as I lift a sleeve to breathe it in deeply.

It’s strange, the way a single scent can bring such peace.

When I emerge again, the main room is bathed in moonlight that streams in through the window.

Torryn’s already in bed, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other resting loosely across his side with his back to me.

He’s shirtless and angled close to the edge of the mattress as if to take up as little space as possible.

A shiver runs over my bare legs and I quickly hurry to the bed, hoping the covers will provide the warmth I seek.

The shirt brushes up my thighs as I slip under the cover.

The bedding is colder than I anticipated at first, the chilly mountain air seeping through the walls despite their thickness, it seems. I curl into myself, tucking my legs up in an attempt to not shiver and bother Torryn.

I watch the steady rise and fall of his side with each breath, illuminated by the moonlight. Outside, the soft drone of crickets chatter, steady and soothing.

I feel it then–a warmth radiating from the other side of the bed.

Torryn.

Warmth, slow and steady, pulses off him. It calls to me without asking, a quiet invitation my body can’t ignore. It feels like the cold bed is stealing what little heat my body possesses.

I shift just a little closer.

Then again.

A few inches at a time.

His voice rumbles into the quiet night, low and grumbly.

“Wren. ”

I freeze, my eyes going wide before squeaking out, “Yeah?”

A beat passes. “Why are you sneaking up on me?”

I flush at being caught, grateful his back is to me. “I’m cold.”

He exhales, the sound more huff than sigh. “Right, I should’ve thought of that.”

His body tenses for a second before he rolls to his back and lifts a heavy arm in silent invitation, the movement unhurried but sure. “Come here.”

For a second, all I can do is take in the etched muscles of his abdomen on display.

I take in a deep breath before sliding closer, pressing into the warmth of his chest. His arm settles gently around me and I curl into his touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He murmurs, “I’ll make sure there’s a fire tomorrow night. I’m sorry for my lack of thought.”

The words are rough around the edges, but I can feel the intent behind them. He’s already planning how to care for me better next time and being hard on himself for not anticipating my needs.

“Be kind to yourself,” I mumble, burrowing in further. “It’s not like you could have anticipated that I would be coming to your lands today, let alone staying in your home.”

A rumble passes through his chest and into my face, but he doesn’t protest .

The heat of him seeps into my skin like the sunrise in the field this morning. He’s all solid muscle and steady breath, his bare chest a wall of strength. I stay quiet, listening to the rhythm of the crickets outside, the whisper of wind through branches, and his heartbeat.

I let my heavy lids drift half-shut as I shift my hand to get more comfortable. The tips of my fingers brush along the ridges of muscle where his ribs meet his side and his body stiffens beneath my hand.

I freeze, breath catching as my eyes pop back open.

“Sorry,” I whisper, pulling back. “I didn’t mean to.”

Warm fingers wrap gently around my wrist to stop my retreat.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, voice low and rough. “I…like it. You just surprised me.”

My cheeks flush as heat blooms through me. He lets go of my wrist and I let my fingers return to him, trying not to overthink it.

A shy part of me hesitates, but the comfort of his skin beneath my fingertips quiets the doubt.

I trail my fingers over his skin slowly, tracing unknown patterns into his skin. A scar catches beneath my touch, a raised line etched into skin. I trace it slowly, then let my fingers wander a little higher toward his chest.

His chest rises and falls beneath my palm, each breath measured like he’s trying not to spook me. But I’m not afraid…I’ve never felt safer than I do right now, wrapped in his warmth, hidden in the stillness of this moment.

I draw a slow circle beneath his collarbone, then another as my thoughts wander.

“Do you think I can trust the other kings?” I ask quietly, my words a feather-light offering in the hush between us. “Or are they examples of the unsavory souls you mentioned?”

He breathes in slowly, deep and deliberate, and I let the silence stretch between us, not needing to fill it. There’s no discomfort in those moments. Not when his heart beats so steadily beneath my cheek, not when his body remains relaxed beside mine.

I know he will answer when he’s gathered his thoughts.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet.

“I don’t know.”

I lift my gaze slightly, just enough to glimpse the profile of his face in the moonlight. A stubbled jaw, loose tendrils of hair dropping into his golden eyes fixated on the ceiling, and the scar on his upper lip are all illuminated.

“My inclination isn’t to trust them myself,” he admits hesitantly. “But I also want to take my own feelings out of it when answering you, and that’s not easy. ”

A heavy weight burdens his words, but I admire his attempt to remove his own bias.

“We’ve been enemies longer than we’ve been anything else,” he continues.

“The four factions–fae, vampire, wraith, shifter–that kind of history doesn’t just fall away despite this new treaty.

It’s in our bones to expect betrayal from each other.

To protect what’s ours by never letting our guard down. ”

He exhales heavily.

“But today…” his voice trails off for a moment, then returns, steadier. “When you wanted space, when you left them to think, none of them pushed you.”

I blink slowly, remembering the quiet field and the way they’d watched me.

“I’ve never seen them do that,” Torryn says, more to himself than to me. “To respect someone else's feelings above their own needs and desires.”

A new warmth unfurls in my chest with that tidbit of information, but it isn’t just the words that settle inside me. It’s the way he says them. Begrudging, yet honest. He tore down his preconceived notions to answer me, even if it makes him uncomfortable.

I shift closer without thinking, tucking my head beneath his chin and letting my fingers rest over his heart. His arm wraps more fully around me in response.

The silence holds us together in the dark, and with the sound of his heartbeat in my ear, I let my eyes fall shut.