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It was her hand that clamped over his mouth this time to stifle his guttural moan.
The smile tugging at the corner of her mouth nearly broke him.
Then her lips were on his as she rode him, rolling her hips against his. Wilder met her movements from beneath, driving himself into her, trying to put everything he felt into each thrust.
Thea gasped as he hit that deep spot inside her, and he reached between them to circle her clit how she liked. Her head tipped back in pleasure, and he kissed her breasts and dragged his teeth over her nipples.
She burned so bright for him, and he burned with her, fucking her, loving her with all he could give her.
‘Wilder,’ she moaned, a curse, a prayer, a warning.
The taste of his name on her lips would forever be the end of him, and as he sent her beyond the point of no return, her climax reaching its crest, he hurtled over the edge with her.
* * *
Wilder woke before dawn, before the rest of the world. For a moment, time stilled as he watched Thea, as he studied her fierce beauty, softened by sleep. He memorised the way her lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
Then he dressed in silence, steeling himself with each piece of clothing, each piece of armour.
He looked at Thea one last time. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, knowing that there was no going back from what he was about to do.
He forced one foot in front of the other and left the tent while he still had the strength. Tears stung his eyes, but he kept walking.
No matter where he went, he would carry Thea with him. She was a part of him now, always.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THEA
Thea woke to voices outside the tent. It was cold on Wilder’s side of the bedroll.
‘He was the one to change tactics at the last moment. He was the one to tell Farissa to take the young alchemist with her.’ It was Vernich. ‘He knew the elder would go after the younger. He created the fucking opening for them.’
‘He would never —’ That was Torj.
Thea’s scalp prickled and she realised she was clutching her fate stone. Cal had found it for her in the forest. She propped herself up, letting the stone fall back between her breasts as she listened to the commotion. Who were they talking about? And where was Wilder? She scanned the tent in the weak light of dawn.
His armour, his swords – everything was gone.
‘He left a fucking apprentice in charge of the northern perimeter,’ another voice chimed in. Esyllt.
‘She had it handled.’
‘She didn’t, though, did she? She was captured bythem,’ Esyllt replied with a growl.‘Who the fuck knows what they did to her, to her sister?’
Audra’s voice cut through the deep timbres. ‘Perhaps you should ask the young women before jumping to conclusions.’
Thea was barely breathing. What was she listening to? As quietly as she could, she began to dress, their words filtering through the canvas all the while.
‘There’s more,’ Vernich murmured. ‘One of the commanders is investigating the attack on Sebastos Barlowe —’
Thea baulked. Attack? Surely they didn’t mean the brawl in the camp before the battle? Who cared about some mundane scrapping in the midst of all this?
‘Witnesses say Hawthorne attacked him on the battlefield,’ Vernich continued. ‘Strangled him without provocation. Barlowe still hasn’t regained consciousness.’
‘No. He would never,’ Torj snapped.
But Thea was done listening. No longer able to stand the growing lurch of dread in her gut, she strapped on her armour once more. Wilder had been right – it fit like a second skin now. She crept out the back of the tent and slipped through the war camp unnoticed. Her former life in Thezmarr had made her an expert on remaining invisible when she needed to, and she used that to her advantage now as she wove between the tents, searching for any sign of her Warsword. She needed to find him, and fast, before the stories about him took on a life of their own.
