Page 54 of Thorns & Fire
They continued their search, the atmosphere growing tense around them, every creak of the floorboards amplifying their urgency.
Torj’s gaze snagged on something gold and gaudy in a hidden compartment.‘What’s this?’
‘A paperweight?’Wren took it from his hand, her fingers brushing his as she examined it herself.‘It’s an ornament...of a laurel,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Like what they used on the novices at the welcome gala?’Torj asked, remembering that night all too well.
‘There are many types of laurel,’ she replied.‘A bit of a stretch in terms of a connection to Drevenor.Bored noblemen have all sorts of useless shit.We can’t take this or the documents with us.’
‘No, we can’t,’ Torj agreed, scanning the desk again.
Wren moved with practised efficiency, deftly sorting through more drawers and cabinets.‘Did Farissa tell you what false lead to look for exactly?’
‘She did.But I don’t see anything close to its description here—’
Wren froze.‘There’s someone in the library...’she murmured.
Torj felt it too, a shifting presence beyond the stacks of books outside.
‘I’ll go and distract them,’ Wren told him.‘You finish here.’
She was gone before he could argue.Torj tried to finish their search thoroughly, but the scars on his chest were prickling.He couldn’t focus on the task at hand when Wren was out there facing Furies knew who, trying to buy him time.
‘Fuck this,’ he muttered, glancing back to ensure they’d left no trace behind before navigating the maze of shelves.He rushed through the library towards Wren.When he turned the next corner, his eyes locked onto her immediately.
Beneath the towering bookcases, another man was holding Wren’s hand, his lips brushing against her knuckles in a lingering kiss.
A searing bolt of jealousy ripped through Torj, setting his blood on fire, narrowing his vision.His body coiled with barely restrained anger.The muscles in his jaw ticked and a primal sound built up in his chest, threatening to tear free from his throat.
Every rational thought he’d had leading up to this moment vanished.The apologies, the reasoning – all of it was consumed by the overwhelming need to claim Wren as his own, to erase any trace of another man’s touch from her skin.
He squared his shoulders, and the air around him seemed to crackle, a palpable energy that radiated from his frame as he moved towards Wren and her unwelcome companion.Torj made his footsteps heavy and purposeful, his eyes never leaving the offending man’s face.His hand twitched at his side, instinctively reaching for his war hammer, which wasn’t there.
Wren sensed him first, and when she glanced his way, there was no surprise on her features.Only cool detachment.The very expression he himself had failed to master only moments ago.
Nearly blinded by rage, Torj grabbed the front of the man’s doublet and lifted him bodily from Wren, ramming his back into the wall.‘Take your hands off my wife.’
‘That’s hardly the way to greet an old friend,’ the nobleman said, his silken voice carrying a note of amusement.
Torj almost faltered as he came eye to eye with someone he’d once known well.
Darian fucking Devereux.
Torj’s grip only tightened.‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘Come now, you used to call me brother,’ Devereux replied, completely unfazed despite his current position, where his feet were dangling above the marble floor.The bastard was lucky he was still in one piece.He’d had his hands on her, hislipson her—
Torj was practically snarling.‘She’s.My.Wife.’Each word was punctuated with rage, laced with a fierce, unyielding intensity.As he said those words again, he realized he nearly believed them, and how deeply he wanted them to be true.The air between him and Devereux was thick, threatening to ignite at any moment.
‘Husband.’The word was a command on Wren’s lips, one that had him releasing his captive with a flex of his fingers.
‘Elderbrock,’ Devereux said with a light laugh as he straightenedhis jacket.‘You and I both know you have far too much self-loathing to marry someone of her calibre.’
Though Devereux seemed to have inherited his awful father’s talent for cutting remarks, Torj didn’t flinch.The bastard was still within reach, and he could damn well throw Devereux through a wall if he fancied it.More than anything, though, Torj was conscious of Wren looking between them, gauging their familiarity and animosity.
‘You two are friends?’she asked, brow furrowed.Torj could hardly blame her.Wren had known him for over twelve years and not once had she seen him with someone like Darian fucking Devereux.
Devereux gave her a charming smile.‘I doubt the Bear Slayer would see it that way—’
