Chapter 22
Torryn
The hawk’s eyes do not blink as often as a man’s.
It’s one of the first things I learned when the spirit chose me, and how stillness and patience can often be the most underrated strength.
So I perch in the dark, talons curled around a branch, feathers fluffed against the night’s chilling bite, and I watch the square of a window that belongs to her.
The moon hangs low behind me, casting the city in a silver wash that softens nothing. Stone walls cut the horizon in harsh angles, tank barrels glint where they sit waiting beyond the gates, but all I see is that narrow frame of glass and the shadow moving within it.
Wren.
That human man fills the window now, broad shoulders cutting the lamplight, profile half-turned toward the bed where I know she sits. The same man from the wall. The one who chose to trust her in front of his men, the one I almost incinerated on instinct when I saw him standing too close to her.
My talons flex against the bark as the hawk and the wolf both rise inside me, a low, silent growl of territorial displeasure that shivers through my bones.
The dragon, still new and restless, wants to leap from this branch, expand, and level these walls.
To reduce their defenses to rubble and carry her away to where no human can ever touch her again.
The wolf, though…he wants to circle below and sit sentry beneath her window, head on his paws, eyes on any threat that comes near. He wants to guard her chosen den, not destroy it. The two humans at the front of the home won’t be enough to ever protect her properly.
All of the different wants are too loud tonight. None of my spirits have been able to find peace since the moment we left her on that wall.
The feel of her palm on my snout lingers, a phantom warmth against scales that have already receded. The way her fingers fit along the ridges of my nose. The trusting way she leaned her forehead against me, even as the humans’ guns stayed trained on me.
Leaving her inside this city felt like shoving a knife between my own ribs and twisting it.
When Sylvin opened the portal and stepped through, I should have followed him. When Riven blurred off the wall and into the distance, I should have also turned toward my lands, toward my people. That is what a king is supposed to do.
Instead, I jumped off that wall without a plan in mind.
The hawk answered the call before I finished the thought, bones hollowing, wings unfurling with the air catching beneath them as we headed to the clouds to get lost from their sight.
I circled twice around the city, keeping high enough that their watch couldn’t catch the glint of my feathers.
I watched as she came down the inner steps with the commander at her side, two other humans flanking them like nervous pups.
Watched as they hustled her through the inner streets and into a modest house pressed against the inner ring, guards taking position outside with their rifles, the nervousness of their gazes leaving their fear on full display.
Still, I watched as the lights shifted through the windows and shadows moved, marking the slow passing of an entire day with her within that room.
I warned them not to treat her as a prisoner any longer, and at first, my instinct was to sweep her out of that home the second she was put right back there.
But the more I watched, the more it became clear that they’re trying to protect her.
From the way her bedroom door stayed open and she chatted occasionally with the younger guard inside, a smile quirking her lips up occasionally.
To the older guard that I believe is the second to the human in charge of this city giving a very stern warning to those posted at the entrance to the home, telling them to report back to him instantly if anyone so much as lingers around or stares up at her window.
It settled some of the unrest within me, but not enough to leave. I tell myself I’m only confirming that she is safe, but the truth is far simpler and more selfish.
I don’t know how to exist with my mate separated from me and no bond to communicate through to ensure her safety.
Now, as night deepens fully, the colonel finally turns away from where she sits and moves toward the door. Even from this distance, the hawk can see the slump of his shoulders, the weariness in the line of his spine. He says something I can’t hear, then steps out of sight.
A knot of tension I hadn’t fully acknowledged eases in my chest at the thought of her finally being alone.
I should leave. We promised her one month. A ceasefire and her right to choose where she stands in it. We agreed to let her stay with the humans and not tear this place apart so long as she is unharmed. I gave my word, and I do not break my word, but I never promised to stay away from my mate.
The thought lands with the solid weight of truth and the hawk’s decision comes so fast it feels inevitable.
I launch from the branch, wings snapping wide in a single, soundless beat.
The cold air slides over my feathers as I glide along the curve of the buildings, keeping to the shadows where roof lines give cover from the moonlight.
In a handful of heartbeats, I’m there, banking once and landing lightly on the narrow sill outside her window.
Through the glass, I see her toss and turn on the small bed.
The room is dim, lit only by the wash of moonlight spilling across the floor, painting her in silver and shadow.
Hair loose around her face, blanket tangled around her legs, eyes open and distant as she stares at the ceiling like she’s struggling to settle her mind.
My chest tightens at the thought of her alone and anxious. Before I can think better of it, the hawk leans forward and my beak raps against the glass. Once. Twice. Three times.
She jolts upright, hand flying to her chest as her gaze snaps to the window. There’s a beat where confusion flickers there, then her face changes entirely. Her features soften and light from within, a quiet kind of joy that punches straight through me.
“Torryn,” I see her mouth.
She is out of the bed in the next heartbeat, bare feet lightly padding over the wooden floor. Her fingers fumble with the latch and then the window opens with a cautious creak, just enough for my body to squeeze through.
“This is dangerous,” she whisper-hisses even as she steps back to make room for me, dark hair falling over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She’s right…I shouldn’t go in. I shouldn’t put her and myself at risk of looking like we’re breaking the treaty.
Yet I can’t stop myself.
I hop in, folding my wings tight to slip past her, the rush of warmer air from the room washing over my feathers.
She reaches out and cups the side of my feathered face, fingers skimming lightly along the curve of my head.
The hawk closes his eyes at the contact, leaning into the touch despite every logical part of me knowing we are too exposed here.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she murmurs, voice still low but threaded with an aching tone like she’s happy I’m here despite the risk. “Or start a war early. Or both.”
Her fingers shake where they curve against my feathers.
I let the shift take me, bones stretching and reshaping, feathers dissolving into skin, and wings folding into arms. The world tilts and rights itself in the span of a breath.
Cold air hits bare skin and then I’m standing in front of her, human again and towering over the small woman blinking up at me.
Quickly I remember to slowly lower the window back, to keep any of our conversation from drifting to the waiting guards outside. I watched the one who was previously at her door leave the house earlier before Ryoden went to her room, so I know we’re fairly safe now, as long as we’re quiet.
I turn back and my hands find her waist before my mind can catch up, palms spanning the soft curve of her hips that flare just beneath. Her shirt is thin and the heat of her goes straight through my fingers, seeping into places that have felt hollow since the moment I left her on that wall.
I step closer and her breath stutters, chest brushing my abdomen when she inhales. Every inch of me sings with the awareness of how close she is and how little lies between us. I bow my head until my forehead rests against hers, closing my eyes as I breathe her in.
“We promised to let you stay with the humans,” I whisper, thankful that humans have poor hearing. “But I don’t remember promising to stay away from my mate.”
A soft, helpless sound escapes her like my words are a shock all over again. Her fingers lift, skating up my ribs before lightly pressing against my chest as if she needs the anchor there.
“Tell me again,” she breathes, the request so small and needy that whatever small restraint is left within me is close to shattering.
“You’re my mate, Wren,” I say, letting every truth I have fill the words.
“The other half of me. Every spirit I carry chose you the second they felt you, and so did I. I am wholly yours, as long as this heart beats in my chest. And when it doesn’t—when all of this is dust and history—my spirit will still find you. ”
Her face crumples with my words. Tears well, spilling fast over her lashes even as she tries to blink them back. One slides down her cheek and my thumb catches it on instinct, brushing it away.
“You deserve more,” she chokes out, hands curling into fists as if the thought physically hurts her to say aloud.
“Someone in your lands. In your pack. Someone who can be everything you deserve without…all of this.” Her gaze flicks to the window, to the city, and I’m sure to the invisible lines of war crisscrossing the world that she feels torn between at all times.
“Someone who doesn’t make you split yourself between duty and love. ”
I pull back just far enough to see her face. Moonlight catches the tear tracks on her cheeks, the sheen in her hazel eyes as she looks up at me like she’s trying to hand me my freedom and it’s tearing her apart.
The dragon in me bares his teeth at the idea. The wolf flat-out refuses. Even the hawk bristles, feathers fluffed in offense.
I shake my head, swallowing a growl at the very idea that she thinks I could find someone else. “Luckily for me,” I say softly, “you don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”
Before she can argue, before her guilt can build itself into another wall, I lower my mouth to hers.
The first brush of her lips is a jolt that races through every nerve. For a heartbeat, I keep it gentle, just the barest pressure to let her decide where to take this. She answers with a soft moan and instantly rises onto her toes to press further into me.
I tilt her head slightly, deepening the kiss.
Her lips part on a gasp and I take the invitation, tasting her in slow, savoring strokes of my tongue that barely scratch the surface of how badly I want to devour her.
Her fingers slide up to clutch at my shoulders, nails biting lightly into my skin as if she’s trying to hold on forever.
Heat gathers low in my belly as her body presses further into mine. The soft swell of her breasts presses to me and my cock hardens further at the warmth of her body melding against it. Without questioning where this is going, I bend and catch her behind the knees, lifting her small body with ease.
She comes up with a startled exhale against my mouth, legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. The warm feeling of her pussy along my abdomen and pelvis makes my control waiver.
There’s nothing between us but thin fabric on her side and bare skin on mine and the hard, undeniable proof of how much I want her.
“Torryn,” she whispers against my lips, fingers sliding up into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan softly.
I press my forehead to hers for a breath, trying to pull air into my lungs. “Tell me to stop,” I murmur. “Say the word and I’ll put you back in that bed and sit guard elsewhere until sunrise.”
Her eyes search mine, wide and shining. I can see the war inside her—the duty, the fear, the want. I recognize it so easily, because it mirrors me so perfectly.
She surges back in with a kind of reckless abandon that steals all my thoughts away.
There’s nothing tentative in it; she kisses me like she’s been holding herself back since the moment she shivered in my bed, cold and seeking warmth.
As if she’s finally given up on pretending she doesn’t want this, or that it doesn’t matter compared to her duty.
Her tongue brushes mine and my entire body tightens, my cock twitching.
I turn with careful steps and walk until the backs of my legs hit the frame of the bed. Gently so as to not break this flimsy thing, I sink down onto it, guiding her with me so she ends up straddling my hips, knees bracketing my sides.
We break apart for air as she sits up in the new position. My hands move to her waist, thumbs tracing the thin line where her shirt rides up and bares a strip of her skin. For a moment, I just look at the woman my spirits and I have been waiting to find and claim.
My mate.
All of my spirits speak simultaneously: Ours.
Moonlight spills across her through the window, painting her in silver, tracing the delicate lines of her collarbone and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and the most dangerous—because loving her will always feel like standing at the edge of a cliff with my toes over the drop, trusting that she’ll never push me.
She reaches for the hem of her shirt and I catch her wrists gently. “Wren,” I rasp, chest heaving as I realize her intent. “I don’t expect anything from you. Not tonight. Not ever. You don’t owe me this just because of what I’ve shared with you.”
She blinks at me, then slowly, a smile curves her lips. Her free hand flattens over my chest, right above my heart.
“You have never expected anything from me, Torryn,” she whispers back. “You’ve only ever protected me. You’ve always let me choose what I needed, over what you wanted, even when it hurt you.”
Her words mean everything to me. All I’ve ever wanted is for her to feel safe with me.
Her gaze meets mine, clear and steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. “You’ve never tried to own me.” She swallows hard. “That’s why I want this.”
I want to tell her I’m not worthy of her, but instead, I ease my grip from her wrists and let my fingers slide up the backs of her hands, over her knuckles. If this is what she wants, then who am I to stop her? She’s always known her own mind and what feels right, even when it’s not easy.
Her eyes spark as I rasp out, “Then whatever you want to give me, I will greedily take, Wren. I can’t stop myself any longer.”