Page 1 of Victoria's Embrace

Chapter 1

Victoria woke with a start, adrenaline making her heart pound as she hurriedly scanned the dirty room around her.

“Easy,mín værling. You are safe,” came a low, rumbling voice at her back.

Blinking up at Thorn’s concerned face from where she’d been sleeping curled up in his lap, she blew out a breath and relaxed back against him. “Sorry. Bad dream. Did I wake you?”

“No,” he rumbled softly, smoothing her red curls back off her face.

The dream faded quickly, leaving her with a vague impression of blood and running and fear but no specifics. Not that she needed specifics to know why she’d had the dream.

Vi’kail had helped her clean off the blood from killing the being who’d been driving the transport they’d escaped from the night before, but the ghost of it lingered, making her feel like her skin was stained.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she glanced across the room at the small, grimy window. It was early evening outside, meaning she’d slept most of the day. Not surprising after a night of escaping and running for hours afterward, but she felt bad that she’d slept through her turn to keep watch.

She wasn’t surprised the guys hadn’t woken her up, hadn’t really expected they would, but resolved to talk to them about that. She wanted to do her part to keep them safe, not be a liability, or worse, a hindrance.

Thorn started rubbing gentle circles on her back, but she could feel tension creeping into his big frame. Twisting to look up at him, she saw the regret in his eyes as he stared back down at her and knew he’d guessed at what her dreams were about.

Stretching up and pulling him down with a hand at the back of his neck at the same time, she pressed a line of soft kisses from his chin, over his cheek, up to the corner of his eye before resting their foreheads together.

Staring at him from inches away, she whispered, “I’m okay. Really.”

He searched her face, a frown marring his brow, but the stiffness slowly left his body when she held his gaze steadily. Shewasokay. That didn’t mean she wasn’t affected, but she knew she’d had no other choice than to shoot that person.

It was him or Thorn, and that was no choice at all.

Relaxing back into his lap when he nodded, she scanned the room again. “Where are Thegan and Vi’kail?”

“Thegan is on watch, hidden on the roof. Vi’kail is scouting.”

Victoria nodded and absently reached a finger under the metal cuff to scratch at the skin surrounding the tag in her arm, careful not to brush over the top of it. Damn thing hurt and itched in equal measure, and the knowledge that it could explode at any minute left her with an almost claustrophobic feeling of wanting it out.

Thorn hissed at her, a soft, censorious sound, and tugged her hand away. “Leave it be.”

Sighing, she cut him a sour look but stopped. He was right, but it was damned hard to leave it alone when the need for it to be out of her was like ants crawling under her skin.

His lips twitched in a commiserating smile. “Come. I found something that will take your mind off of it.”

Sliding his arms beneath her, he held her to his chest and pushed gracefully to his feet. Victoria looped her arms around his neck, curious as to where he was taking her but content to wait and see.

He carried her down a hallway littered with trash, up a flight of stairs, to a closed door. Toeing it open with his boot, he made a soft, victorious, “Ah ho!”

Victoria gasped in delight. It was a bathroom, and it looked like one of the guys—Thorn, judging by the quiet pride on his face—had taken the time to clean it up.

“It works?” she asked excitedly.

At his nod, she wiggled until he let her down, hugged him in thanks, then ducked inside. She had time to use the restroom, wash her hands and face, and do what she could to brush her teeth with her finger before he knocked.

Opening the door, she was surprised when he stepped inside but moved to let him, assuming he needed his turn. Before she could leave, he caught the back of her shirt and pulled her back in.

Turning, she started to ask what he was doing but paused when she saw the comb in his hands and caught the almost nervous expression on his face.

“I will dress your hair. If you like.”

Cocking her head at the odd note in his voice, she hesitated but shrugged. “Okay.”

She stepped in front of him, so she was facing the mirror-like surface over the shallow bowl of the sink and watched him as he started brushing her hair, his eyes focused on the task. He was exceedingly gentle, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked through her tangles, his expression a confusing mix of shy, nervous, and serious. That nervousness and intense focus became even more pronounced as he started weaving her hair into braids.

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