Ellowyn
“We rescued Peytor,” Torin’s voice sounded from behind me, and I shot to my feet, a bolt of adrenaline coursing through my body, lighting my blood on fire.
How could he do that with just one word? With one look?
I ran at him with a squeal before jumping directly into his arms. I hit his chest with anoomph,and he laughed into my ear, spinning me around in our shared joy.
Peytor was safe. Peytor was alive. Peytor washome.
Caught up in the emotions of the moment, I reared back before slamming my lips to Torin’s, pouring my thankfulness, my love, my excitement into the kiss. He groaned into my mouth before matching my fervor with his own. We were a mess of teeth and lips and tongues, his hands coming to cup my bottom and pull me hard against him. His growing erection met my core, and it was my turn to moan into his mouth at the sensation. My hands flew up to frame his face, eliminating any remaining distance between us.
Gods, this was what a kiss was supposed to feel like.
Touch starved and aching for affection, I shamelessly rubbed myself against Torin’s body, chasing a high that built the longer our mouths stayed connected.
A throat cleared from behind us, and Torin and I broke away with a gasp.
My heart thudded in my ears, red canvassing my chest and throat.
Who else could be here? Fate? No, I would’ve felt his oppressive presence.
“Would you like to say hi to your brother?” Torin whispered, fighting to catch his breath. His eyes kept darting from my lips to my face, trying to see my reaction while simultaneously holding himself back from taking my mouth again.
My fingers flexed against his cheeks as my eyes went wide.
“He’s . . . here? How?”
Torin smiled slyly before reluctantly setting me down on shaking feet. His hands thankfully stayed bracketed to my hips as we looked into each other’s eyes.
“Am I interrupting something?” Peytor’s question carried across the dead space, humor lacing every word.
I turned on a gasp, hands reaching behind me to steady myself against Torin’s steadfast presence.
The man who stood feet from me vaguely resembled my brother, but was far from what I expected—he was thinner than I remembered, faint scars dotting his exposed forearms, and his chestnut hair was shaggily cut. His eyes held the most change—they were dark and haunted, shadows flickering through his grey-green irises.
But beneath it all, he was still my brother. His shit-eating grin was still there, plastered on his stupidly handsome face, framed by a strong nose and jaw. I saw so much of my father in Peytor at that moment.
“Peytor?” I called hesitantly and watched as his face broke into a true smile, one that lit his face and chased the shadows from his eyes.
“Hi, Ell.”
“Peytor!” I exclaimed, pushing myself off of Torin and scrambling over the hard-packed earth in a crazed effort to reach my brother.
I heard both men chuckle as I threw my body at Peytor, burying my head in the crook of his neck and squeezing him tight. His return embrace was equally encompassing, and I wiggled against him, trying to bury myself in him. It reminded me of when we were children and a day’s separation felt like a year.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, and I chuffed a laugh through my tears.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
He shrugged his still massive shoulders, the motion causing my head to bob.
“I asked first.”
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked tentatively into his neck instead of responding. I felt his chest vibrate with a rumble.
“No, Ellowyn,” he sighed. “I’m not mad at you. My anger was misplaced, I know that now.”
I pulled away from him to stare into his familiar grey eyes, flecked with the green of our mother’s heritage.
