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‘Sorry,’ he mumbled and started to move away.
But Thea’s whole body had come alive, and his hesitation emboldened her. She knew she hadn’t imagined the connection between them on their journey; the lingering looks or the heat in their accidental touches.
A shiver of anticipation rushed through her as she rose above the water level, soap sluicing down her breasts and abdomen, her wet hair plastered to her skin. ‘Are you?’ she challenged. ‘Sorry?’
Hawthorne turned back to face her and this time he openly drank in the sight: her swollen breasts and her nipples hardening under his stare, the curve of her hips and the rest still hidden by the water.
‘No,’ his deep voice rumbled, sending a rush of longing through her, right to the ache between her legs.
A small sound escaped her as she, too, surveyed him: the hard set of his jaw, the tension in his broad shoulders, the sweep of his chest and lower… the undeniable bulge in his pants.
Beneath the water, Thea’s thighs parted, every inch of her singing out to him.
Hawthorne was deadly still, making no move to hide his desire, before at last he spoke again. ‘The Furies know I’m not sorry to see you like this,’ he said, his hooded gaze travelling upher exposed skin once more to linger on her face. ‘But as much as I want…’ he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. ‘I have to go.’
Thea exhaled shakily, all the tension holding her body taut vanishing as she watched him snatch something from a nearby shelf and go.
With a mortified groan, she wrapped her arms around herself and ducked back under the water, hoping it would wash away the stain of her embarrassment.
WILDER HAWTHORNE
It took every ounce of willpower for Wilder to force one foot in front of the other and leave the beautiful, naked woman behind. By the Furies, he was in deep shit. Before tonight, he had been torn between throttling her and fucking her, but now… Now there was no question.
He clutched the remedy he’d snatched from the shelves tightly in his clammy palm and made for Malik’s rooms. If his brother hadn’t been having an episode, nothing would have stopped him tearing his clothes off and taking Althea Zoltaire there and then in that tub.
He could hardly recall what he’d said to her. His cock was still rock hard, straining against the rough fabric of his pants, begging for release – begging forher.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered, scraping his other hand through his hair again and trying to banish the images of her flooding his mind: those celadon eyes brazenly surveying his erection, her round breasts rising as her breathing hitched, the soap suds sliding over her hard nipples…
‘Fuck,’ Wilder cursed again, hitting the flat of his palm against a nearby wall and picking up his pace. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, since he’d felt the need. He’dseen firsthand what infatuation could do to a Warsword. But the alchemist… She made something inside him blaze to life.
Malik, he commanded himself.Think about Malik. Upon his return to Thezmarr, Wilder had sought his brother to return his dagger and try to understand the friendship he’d nurtured with the young alchemist. But when he’d entered the rooms, Malik’s giant frame was wedged in the small space between the end of the bed and the wall. He had been sitting with his knees to his chest, his huge hands covering his ears and his eyes screwed shut.
Wilder had backed away, knowing there was nothing he could do in that moment but wait for the worst of it to pass, that his presence might even make matters worse. Instead, he’d decided to get one of Farissa’s remedies for when Malik calmed down. It was one they’d used plenty of times before, just a few drops under the tongue seemed to help bring Malik back to the present. The Master Alchemist always kept a full supply of basic medicines in the bathing chamber, but upon seeing Althea… All thoughts had emptied from Wilder’s head.
But now, as he reached Malik’s room once more, he had gained some measure of control over himself. He knocked gently before letting himself in and was relieved to find his brother in his armchair by the fire, Dax at his feet.
‘Good,’ Wilder said roughly, closing the door behind him. ‘You’re alright.’
Malik, who still looked pale, managed a lopsided smile, his hand absentmindedly toying with Dax’s matted coat.
Wilder held out the vial of remedy drops, his chest tight. ‘Got you these.’
Malik simply blinked slowly and Wilder’s heart sank a little, recognising the look of his brother’s semi-fugue state.
‘Let me help you then,’ he mumbled, taking the stopper from the bottle and filling the glass dropper. Ever so gently, he helpedMalik tip his head back and open his mouth, administering three drops of Farissa’s tonic.
Wilder squeezed his brother’s shoulder. ‘That should help,’ he told him before stoking the fire to life and dragging a spare chair before the hearth. ‘I’m bored, so if you’re not busy, I might stay awhile.’
Malik didn’t reply, but Wilder sat back anyway, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, careful not to disturb Dax. He glanced at the dog. ‘You get around, don’t you?’
Dax ignored him, apparently preferring Malik and the alchemist. Wilder couldn’t say he blamed him.
As the fire crackled to life, Wilder looked across at his brother, who stared intently at the flames. He often did that when things got too much for him. Wilder swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to force back the memories of that day in Naarva all those years ago. A day that had looked like night amidst a swarm of shadow wraiths and worse, where Malik and Talemir had fought side-by-side in the stone circles of Islaton.
He realised he was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles were burning, and for a moment, his vision blurred. Malik had lost nearly everything that day.Talemir, too. And Wilder hadn’t been able to save either of them.
Composing himself, Wilder’s hand went to the dagger at his waist.
