CHAPTER 52 Torj
CHAPTER 52
Torj
‘A bodyguard’s watch is unending’
– Vigilance and Valour: Tactical Training for Professional Bodyguards
T ORJ HAD FELT her rage rolling off her in the tavern, had felt all her emotions toiling in his own heart. Jealousy at that woman’s hands on him; anger at him being touched without his consent...and yet, before tonight, she’d hardly spoken to him since their kiss.
She was a storm of contradictions. There was a wildness to her that he knew would never be tamed, and it was dangerous.
But as soon as the cool early morning air hit Wren, so did the liquor.
She stumbled, her vials rattling as he caught her, setting her upright only to have her lean too far right and stumble again. She hadn’t returned her hairpin to her bun, so her bronze hair flowed freely to her shoulders, sticking to her lips as she laughed at herself. The ominous mood from the tavern had vanished, and in its place was a Wren he hadn’t seen in a long time: carefree and smiling.
Cal, Kipp, Zavier and Dessa staggered a few yards ahead, arm in arm, while Torj held Wren protectively close to his side, trying not to marvel at her warmth.
‘You know, I can walk by myself,’ she told him, gently pushing him away.
‘That’s debatable.’
She had the gall to look offended. ‘You think you know everything.’
He had to bite back a laugh at that. Instead, he released her. ‘By all means, Embervale. Let’s see you walk.’
‘See?’ she declared as she took a single stride forwards, and promptly tripped over her feet into the dew-soaked grass.
She craned her neck to look up at him from the ground.
‘Torj?’
‘Embers?’
‘I don’t think I can walk by myself.’
A chuckle bubbled from his lips. ‘You don’t say.’ He offered her his hand. ‘Want some help?’
Her palm brushed his as she accepted his assistance, and he helped her to her feet. She lost her footing again, sending her crashing straight into his chest.
For a moment, he didn’t move. And nor did she, resting flush against him.
‘I didn’t like her touching you,’ she admitted in a whisper.
He had to remind himself to breathe, that the living storm of a woman in his arms was off limits. That without the liquor, there was no way in a million years she’d ever make such a confession.
‘You’re drunk, Embers,’ he said gently.
‘Blame Kipp,’ she replied.
‘Trust me, I always do.’
Wren sighed and broke away from him, starting back towards the residence halls. He didn’t let her get far without him at her side; she was liable to fall over again.
‘Wren?’ he heard himself say, catching her as she did just that.
‘What?’
‘I didn’t like her touching me either.’
She smiled openly then, and he revelled in it.
In the foyer of the main building, Wren lingered, gazing up at the glass cylinders that held stones of black garnet. She pressed a palm to the shiny surface of one, her lips moving as she counted.
‘We won,’ she breathed, eyes wide. ‘Our idea in design...It won us the thirty points.’
Torj watched the joy wash over her face, warming at the sight. ‘Congratulations,’ he said quietly. ‘Though I can’t say I’m surprised. Your ideas have changed lives, Wren.’
She blinked at him, her mouth slightly parted. ‘You mean that?’
‘Am I not living proof?’
It took far longer than it should have to get Wren back to her room, and he knew there was little chance of her attending first meal at this rate, only an hour or so away. He doubted Dessa was faring much better. Kipp was just as likely to continue the party in his rooms as he was to quit while he was ahead.
‘Keys?’ he asked Wren as they turned into their hallway.
‘Like you don’t have one,’ she mumbled.
Torj huffed a laugh and reached for his own. ‘Thought you’d appreciate the pretence of privacy.’
‘I don’t.’
He glanced at her to find her already looking at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Gods, the Furies were testing him tonight.
It had been days since he had overheard her discussion with Odessa about sex. He’d nearly fallen over himself as she’d told her friend how she hadn’t ever experienced a climax at the hands of a man...He still couldn’t get it out of his head. How could he, when he was at her side nearly every waking minute? When he’d heard first hand the sounds she made when she experienced desire, pleasure? Knowing what she tasted like, how she writhed beneath his touch, was pure torture...Worshiping her would be a privilege, an honour. And it drove him mad that he couldn’t be the man to do it.
He tore his eyes away from her. This woman had set him alight, and there was no snuffing out the fire now, as hard as he might try.
At last, when they reached her door, he fitted his key to the lock and opened it for them. Torj entered the room first to do his usual security sweep, checking everything with honed efficiency. Deeming the space safe and untouched, he went back to Wren, who was slumped against the wall outside.
‘Come on, Embers.’
But it was like her limbs were now refusing to cooperate, and in the end, fed up with her futile attempts at walking like a newborn foal, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bed.
She nestled against him with a sigh. ‘You didn’t want me,’ she murmured, eyes closed. ‘It’s alright. I don’t blame you...Nobody wants a broken thing.’
‘You’re not broken,’ he told her hoarsely as he pulled back the sheets and laid her down in her bed. ‘Not even close, Embers.’
Her wild hair spilled across the pillow as she curled up on her side, her nose tipped pink from the cold night air and the liquor. With gentle fingers, Torj removed her belt of potions and sharp tools, lest she roll over and somehow poison herself in her sleep.
‘There’s something wrong with me,’ she breathed, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. ‘Like all the rest said.’
Torj’s heart broke, then, at just how much pain Wren carried with her. He shook his head sadly and sat on the edge of her bed, pulling the blankets up around her. ‘Only a fool would look at you and see anything less than perfection.’
Wren’s lashes fluttered against the tops of her cheeks, and he made to leave.
Her small hand gripped his forearm. ‘Stay,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
Torj hesitated, just for a moment, heart hammering, before he lowered himself back onto the edge of the bed. ‘I’ve got you,’ he told her, covering her hand with his. ‘Sleep now.’
It was the only time she’d ever listened to him. Wren’s breathing evened out, slow and steady as she drifted into a deep slumber.
He sat at her bedside, studying how she tucked her hands beneath the pillow and curled her feet under her, her face softening in sleep.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her temple and running his fingers through her hair. ‘For everything.’
And then the Bear Slayer watched over her until dawn bled through the stained-glass windows.