I need to feel her, to know that this is real and not another dream. She draws back, eyes searching mine before she nods.
“Thank fuck.” Claiming her lips once more, because being apart from Wren feels like the worst kind of torture, I brush the underside of her breasts with my right hand. She shivers, pressing herself against me.
“More, Gabe,” she moans against my mouth.
Blazing suns, I’ve never heard a better request.
Merging our mouths once more, I slide my hand under her tunic and tug her breast binding aside.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I groan against her mouth, delighting in how her breasts fit so well in my palms. “So gorgeous.”
She grinds her hips against me, and fuck, I almost come in my pants. My fingers graze her nipples, her whimpers encouraging me to continue. When I pluck at those tight buds, she moans.
I swallow the sounds, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer. It’s not enough. It won’t be until I can take her properly, lavish her with the attention she deserves, but this isn’t the place.
I’m not sure how much time passes, our kisses growing more feverish, before the air shifts. It happens in a heartbeat. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and the temperature drops swiftly. Chaos whinnies, and there’s a stirring in my chest.
A tug of warning, a call to pay attention.
Even though it pains me, I pull away. Letting Wren’s tunic fall back into place, I look her over. Her eyes are hooded, her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are plump and well kissed.
“Gabe? What’s wrong?” she asks as she tugs her breast binding back into place.
My chest heaves as I scan the clearing. Our pack is sitting nearby, untouched. Snow is falling slowly, and the forest looks the same. But I know something has changed.
“Be on your guard,” I tell her, easing away from the tree and dropping my hand to the hilt of my sword. “Something’s wrong and I need you to?—”
I never finish my sentence.
There’s a rustling behind me. An inhale.
I spin around, drawing my sword. Before I can raise the weapon, something heavy slams into the side of my head. Black spots dance in my vision.
Wren screams, the sound eerily similar to my nightmares, and my knees buckle.
“Run!” I shout, fighting against the blackness. “Go, Wren! Run as fast?—”
My head is hit again. The last thing I see is a bright blue flare before darkness consumes me.
15
TIME PLAYS TRICKS
WREN
Every time I think there’s no way things could get worse, that I must’ve hit my limit for bad luck, I’m proven wrong. At this point, I’m fairly certain that if the gods are real, they’re mocking me, seeing how far they can push me before I break.
I wish I were made of steel. Unbreakable, like Gabriel’s sword or my dagger that I lost in the alley in Saltwater. Able to withstand pressure. Forged in fire, ready for anything.
But I’mnot.
With every passing day and every awful thing that happens, it becomes clearer that I am very fucking close to breaking. How many more terrible situations can I endure before I shatter into a thousand pieces, unable to pick up the shards of what was once my soul?
My brain slams against the confines of my skull as I slowly drift back to consciousness, my body one giant bruise. My eyelids are heavy and refuse to move, and my limbs feel as though they’re weighed down with rocks.
Slowly, painfully, I pry open my eyes. The simple movement takes far too long, but eventually, they obey my commands.
Only, once I look around, I wish I’d kept them shut.
