Page 87 of Taming Chaos

“Torin.” Seph lifted her head a fraction, trying to break him out of his fury.

“What is it, Seph?” When he said her name like that—in tones of liquid velvet—everything was all right again.

“You shouldn’t kill him.” Strangely, she wasn’t even angry at the Bartharrans. Maybe that was shock. Maybe it would all hit her later, but right now, she felt a little bit sorry for them. They all believed in a prophecy that was going to free them from some endless, pointless war.

“He would have killed you without a second thought.” Torin’s voice trembled with barely suppressed anger. “Of course I should kill him.”

“But…”

“Yes, my love?”

“If he’s dead, who’s going to pilot the ship?”

“Ah.” A fierce battle played out across his ravaged features. The urge to kill fought with Seph’s cool logic. She had no idea how she managed to think of such things at a time like this. Realizing she was moments away from death, she’d entered a surreal, detached place in her mind.

Slowly, Torin lowered the knife. The fire in his eyes died down as he rushed to her side. “Persephone.” His voice cracked. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry? You saved me… again.” She said the latter with a wry smile as waves of immense relief and washed over her. “This is starting to become a recurring theme for us.”

The old Seph would have resented this damsel in distress shit with a passion. The Seph who had hidden away on a pirate ship for the past two weeks was of a different mind. She looked up at Torin and saw his battle-ravaged face. Actually, one of his cheekbones was shot out. Little black things swarmed around the gruesome wound, doing things that defied all logic as they repaired his beautiful silver features.

A flicker of pain tugged at the corners of his mouth, and her heart went out to him.

He endured all this silently, without complaint, for her. The extent of his injuries… he must be in agony right now.

Torin dropped the dagger in disgust and tore at her bonds with his claws, freeing her in a heartbeat. Seph sat up, swung her legs over the side of the makeshift altar, and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder as she momentarily closed her eyes.

“You are safe now,” he murmured, threading his fingers through her hair. His breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse.

Unexpectedly, Torin swayed on his feet, his eyes taking on a glazed look. “Ugh,” he groaned. The remaining segments of his exo-armor thinned out, the nanites flickering and disappearing into his skin.

His armor withdrew, and suddenly, he was completely naked.

Can’t hold the form.

Seph thought she understood, because Torin had tried to explain it to her once. When their energy stores were depleted—usually from sustaining repeated plasma blasts and repairing massive injuries—the tiny machines that made up his exo-armor would retreat into his body, seeking protein.

Did he even notice what had happened at this point? She wasn’t so sure.

His hand shot out, and he pressed against the table to steady himself. Seph stiffened. For Torin to display such pain in front of her…

He must be in agony right now!

It was the first time she’d ever seen him appear so vulnerable.

She took his face into her hands and drew him close. She kissed him on his cheek, then his lips, tasting blood and ash and sweetness. He was a little bit cold, and that worried her. As Seph reverently stroked his cheek, an idea formed in her mind.

It was so simple, so natural, so perfect.

As his breathing became ragged, his pupils narrowing to tiny points, Seph brought her fingers to his lips. Torin kissed her fingertips slowly, reverently, the silken touch of his lips sending a pleasant tingle down her spine.

A primal growl reverberated from deep within his throat. She’d heard that sound many times before, and she loved it, but this time there was a dark edge to his hunger, as if the slightest gesture or look or sensation could send him spiraling beyond the point of no return.

“Here.” She angled her hand so his lips were pressed against her wrist.

“What are you doing, Persephone?” He kissed her wrist slowly, his tongue probing against the stretchy fabric of her travel suit.

His lips might be cold, his tongue was definitely warm. Seph pulled off her gloves and pushed down her sleeve, baring her skin. Torin trailed kisses down her palm, her wrist, and the inner aspect of her arm.

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