Willing Sacrifice
Page 65

 Shannon K. Butcher

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She couldn’t live like this, her stomach twisting with anger and anxiety.
Grace gathered some food for him, using it as an excuse to speak to him, then went searching. He’d said he was going to check the perimeter, so she wove her way around the edge of the village, inching out more with each step.
Brenya usually had the humming protective barrier in place by this time of night, but Grace didn’t feel it, didn’t see its subtle shimmer.
By the time she realized that the barrier must not have been put up tonight, she was far enough into the woods that the flickering light of the central fire was barely visible.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” came Torr’s voice from the darkness.
Grace jumped, jostling the food on the small tray she carried. He was next to her, steadying the cup of water before it had time to spill. “You scared me.”
“At least it was me you ran into rather than one of the Hunters.”
“I was paying attention to the temperature. If it had gotten cold, I would have bolted back to the others.”
There wasn’t much light to see by, but there was enough for her to make out his silhouette and a faint glitter of moonlight in his amber eyes. Even without those clues, she could smell the scents of heat and forest that clung to him. He’d used the same soap as everyone else, but on him, it smelled so much better. All she wanted to do was get closer.
“What are you doing out of the village?” The deep tone of his voice smoothed over her senses, making some deep part of her go still and quiet.
She was too drawn to this man. She’d thought it was bad before, but now that she knew what he felt like when sliding into her body—how he wrapped himself around her like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go—she wanted even more of him.
Grace had to clear her throat to get the words to come out. “I didn’t see you at dinner. You need to eat.”
“I don’t have much of an appetite. Give my share to one of the kids.” His sword was propped up beside him, visible now that it wasn’t attached to his body.
“There was more than enough to go around. Tori bagged several kills last night. And you need to eat.”
“Fine. Leave the tray if it will make you feel better.”
She found a smooth rock protruding from the ground and balanced the tray on it. “Are you going to eat?”
“Go back to the village, Grace.”
Not “honey,” just “Grace.” The change shouldn’t have hurt her, but it did. She was the one who’d pushed him away, so why was she so desperate to drag him close again?
“You’re still angry with me,” she guessed.
She felt him tense more than she saw it. She was so attuned to him that even his stillness was enough to warn her of a surge of emotion.
“Anger doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. Not that it matters. Just go. I have work to do and you’re far too much of a distraction to have around.”
Again, the sting of his words hit her hard, but this time she actually flinched.
Torr let out a harsh curse as he ran his hand through his hair. “I hate it that you still react like that to me, after all we’ve been through together the last few days.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You jerked away like you thought I was going to hit you. I know you’ve had a rough life, but dammit, Grace, I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”
His words wrapped around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. The ground beneath her feet seemed to rock. The woods around her dissipated in a shower of glittery sparks, so bright that she was blinded.
In that instant, something in her head burst open, and she remembered everything. The night Torr rescued her and her baby brother—the night her mother was killed by demons. She remembered him lifting her away from her mom’s brutalized body and cradling her close as he carried her out of the house, whispering words of comfort. She remembered the blast of fire behind them, and the scream of the demons consumed in the blaze. He hadn’t even slowed down—not until that slimy, sluglike creature had shot out of the darkness and slammed into his back, poisoning him.
Even as he fell, he’d thought of protecting her first, spinning to land so he wouldn’t crush her.
She could picture his room at Dabyr, the way he grew progressively sicker and more discouraged every day. She’d ached to help him, but there was so little she could do. He’d begged for death, and yet she hadn’t been brave enough to give in to his wishes.
She remembered Dabyr and the safety it represented for her. She’d fallen in love with him there. Gilda, a powerful Theronai, had given her the means to save him there. And it was there that Grace had fastened the disks to their spines in a desperate effort to heal him.
Those disks had connected them for years. It had been his sorrow she’d felt, his anger. Even as far away as she was—worlds apart—she’d still felt his presence.
And now he was here—this man she loved so much and had somehow forgotten.
How could she have done that to him? How could she have forgotten a man she’d been willing to die for? How could she have been angry at him for withholding his past when he’d saved her life and Blake’s?
It was such a miracle that he’d survived, that he was up and walking again. He was whole and strong, just as he’d been the night they’d met. How hard must it have been for him not to tell her what they’d shared?
Tears of joy filled her eyes. Torr—her Torr—was alive and well. She wanted to celebrate what a miracle he was.
Relief and love flowed through her. She surged upward, into his arms, kissing him as she’d been dying to do all those years ago.
He rocked back on his heels but recovered from his surprise fast. Within a heartbeat he was kissing her back, holding her tight. He cradled her as though he would never again let her go.
He loved her. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. He was such a good man—it was hard to believe he would choose her when he could have whoever he wanted.
Her feet left the ground. His tongue danced with hers. Her body heated in a mad rush, and all she could think about was getting as close to him as possible. She wanted to hold on forever and never let go.
Her brave, heroic warrior loved her—something she’d never thought possible.
“I need you,” he said against her mouth.