Unless we find the rebels soon, we’re going to have to risk going into town and buying supplies. I don’t like the idea of endangering Wren like that, but we may not have any other choice.
For now, I’ll continue throwing everything I have into training Wren. She’s getting faster every day, and her movements are becoming more fluid. Her Mark has flared a few times during our sparring sessions, but she hasn’t been able to summon her magic on purpose yet.
She’ll get there, as long as she can keep practicing. Time is one of our worst opponents right now. I am acutely aware that winter is marching on, and before we know it, another GivingSeason will be upon us. I’m not sure what we’ll do then, but I will do my best to prepare Wren for anything that comes our way.
To that end, I draw my dagger and weave through the trees. Careful about where I put my feet, I distribute my weight evenly so I don’t make a sound.
Wren is still speaking quietly to Chaos, her gentle tone one I’ve only heard her use around animals and her sisters.
“I left Truffle at home.” She pauses, and even though I can’t see her, I can visualize her bottom lip disappearing as she chews on it. “Well, I suppose it’s not my home anymore. I can’t go back.”
I pass an evergreen tree, the branches brushing against me.
Chaos blows air through his nose, and Wren sighs heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure the king has soldiers stationed around Grenbloom waiting for me.”
I peer around a massive oak. Wren is still facing Chaos, her hand continuing its steady, sweeping movements as she brushes his flank.
“Even so, I think you would’ve liked Truff. She’s so sweet and cute. Adorable, really.” Chaos whinnies, and she chuckles. “Yes, exactly. Unlike a certain Hunter, who thinks he’s being sneaky but really isn’t.”
Before my brain can catch up with Wren’s words, she is already spinning around. Her Mark flares beneath her hood, a brilliant, blinding blue. She drops the brush, and it falls into the snow, forgotten.
I follow the movement before I realize that’s what she wanted. My eyes rise as Wren rams into me. “Oomph,” I grunt as she shoves me against a tree, pressing her arm against my neck.
Eyes gleaming, she grins. The tip of her dagger is pointed at my throat, and she beams up at me. “Caught you, Gabe.”
I’ve never been so pleased to be trapped.
“Yes, you did.” I drag my gaze from her eyes to her mouth, and it’s like all the air disappears from my lungs. I can’t breathe, but who needs breath when they’re faced with the gorgeous woman who has been haunting their dreams?
Moving slowly so I don’t nick myself on Wren’s dagger, I slide my blade in its sheath. Her eyes darken, but she doesn’t move. I lift my hand slowly, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. Suns, she’s so fucking breakable, this gods-blessed of mine, and it makes me want her more.
Her breath hitches, a quiet sound that tells me I’m not the only one affected by this. Thatthingwithin me rejoices, urging me to get even closer.
“Hunter,” Wren breathes.
“Little bird.” Her pulse flutters beneath my thumb, tiny wings taking flight and mimicking the racing of my heart. “It seems like you have me trapped.”
“That does seem to be the case, doesn’t it?” Her eyes slip to my lips, then rise once more. The air thickens, every inch dividing us feeling like an entire kingdom.
“What are you going to do with me?”
Wren inhales shakily. “I don’t know. This was as far as I got.”
“You have no thoughts?” I raise a brow. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
I’ve been around long enough to realize she always has an idea or two brewing.
Her pulse quickens beneath my thumb, and thank the fucking suns, she moves closer. My cock hardens as her breasts brush against my chest, her scent filling my nose. My senses are consumed by her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Gods above, I never knew it was possible to want someone so desperately. I would sooner throw myself into a lake of fire than step away.
I trail my thumb across her wrist, then up her arm. I move slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to, but I hope she doesn’t.
A storm has been building between us for weeks. How could it not, when we’ve been riding the same horse all night and sleeping near each other every day? Tension has been simmering beneath the surface of every interaction, every stolen glance, every hitched breath.
Now, it’s a cresting wave, ready to crash upon the shore.
Wren’s eyes darken. The blade at my neck trembles. She moves closer, her breath warming my mouth, and her Mark—that gods-damned swirl that started everything between us, the one that makes everything so frustratingly difficult—is a blazing sapphire against the evening sky.
“There is one thing I’d like to do with you,” she whispers.
