Page 53 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

To Torin, the biggest shock of all was that the wolf had missed. He knew she was capable of hitting her target, which meant she wanted to miss. A smirk pulled at the left side of Torin’s mouth.

“Oh, and to top it all off, after our night of passions, she informed me as she was shoving me out the door that she has a boyfriend.”

“Well, that's a lie,” Torin informed him as a little chuckle escaped. “Breighly Baxgroll doesn’t have boyfriends.”

Artem’s head cranked around. “What? Are you kidding me? She told me she had a boyfriend.”

“Do you think if she had a wolf boyfriend, she would have let you sleep in her sheets? Her man would have been able to smell you from miles away. She’s played you, brother.”

There was a moment of silence. “She has, indeed,” Artem admitted in a higher pitch. “I feel used.” He laughed, putting an arm behind his head.

“Well, I did warn you.” Torin lay his hands over his chest, where moments before, Emara’s hand had been. All day she had been so close to him, skin-to-skin as they rode together. It had teased every mischievous thought possible from his mind and tortured every wicked part of him too. He turned around, facing the opposite direction from Artem. It was a precaution in case his thoughts of her took a turn for the darker side, as they always did.

What was a guy to do?

“I think I am into her, Blacksteel.”

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Torin hauled himself around to see Artem. “What?”

Had his brother lost his mind in the Huntswood markets? He wouldn’t be the first.

“She was different,” Artem said, his eyes still on the ceiling like he could see the stars through the fabric.

“Of course, she’s different; she is a wolf,” he reminded him. “Wolves mate. There is no point in getting dragged into that.”

“I know.” Artem pushed his jaw out to the side.

“You are just not used to a girl who isn’t stumbling over themselves to be with you.” Torin laughed hoarsely. “You will get over it.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to throw stones at glass houses?” Artem laughed.

True.

They both sat in silence for a while, letting the chuckles die in the chill of the night's air.

Sleep must have found him because when he woke, the morning light from outside glowed around the foundations, lighting the inside of the tent. Instantly, he shot up, thinking of her. The flame in his chest burned as he thought of her face, and the fire roared through his veins. Torin had to make sure she was okay, he had to see her.

Fuck.

He took a breath.

In that moment, he knew that he would give up his own life for hers. And it was not because of his oath to the clan, but because of the indisputable feeling in his heart.

The next few days were much of the same. They would ride until nightfall and then find a safe place to camp. Torin had kept himself quiet and Emara wondered if what she had said the other night in the tent had been too much.

Was it too real?

I wanted you to go to sleep tonight knowing that no one has ever made my heart beat as fast as you do.

She couldn’t possibly count how many times she had played that moment over and over in her head. How she had replayed the beating of his heart under her palm, how he had looked at her. How she had felt. It was an odd feeling, a feeling that made her blood warm, but she also realised how up to her neck in terror she felt when she pondered how deep her feelings could go.

Magin’s horse stopped quickly, snapping her attention back to her surroundings. Torin tugged on the reins, slowing them to a stop, and Emara imagined that Artem had pulled to an abrupt halt behind them too as she heard his horse complain. Magin put up a gloved hand and Torin let out a sharp exhale.

“Stay on the horse,” he commanded, not a single compromise ringing through.

An unsettling whirl played around in her stomach as Torin dismounted Ledi. The horse let out an uneasy whine that curled the fear even further into Emara’s bones. Distracting herself, she patted his giant neck.

The moon was the only light above them now; the forest trees were unforgiving, letting little to no light through the thick branches. Normally, they would have been setting up camp by now, but Artem knew of a small village nearby where they could turn in for the night. The idea of sleeping in real beds instead of on the frozen ground was too appealing, so they’d kept riding. Her body would never forgive her after this journey. It ached from the discomfort of the forest floor, and she had practically begged the Gods every night to hurry this journey along.

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