can tug him closer to me. Leaning forward, I place a slow, gentle kiss against his lips. He wants more, but it’s enough to satisfy the bond. Anything more than that would be cruel with Grayson watching. Pulling back, I look carefully at Vaeril’s face, frowning at the tension there. “Are you okay?”
Nodding once, he gives me a tight smile. “I just need physical contact.” He steps back so I can see the others, staying by my side. He keeps his hand on the small of my back, but gives me enough space so I don’t feel crowded. Naril walks over with his usual swagger, but I notice his eyes running over me as if checking for injury as well. Pretending not to notice, I glance over at Tor while Naril takes up position behind me.
Tor steps forward, but he surprises me by walking towards Grayson instead of coming over to us. Stopping just a few feet from the magician, the tribesman scowls. For a few moments he doesn’t say anything, just stares at the mage, and it reminds me how intimidating Tor can be, based just on size and looks alone. To Grayson’s credit, he doesn’t shy away, just calmly meets his gaze, but I can feel the magic he’s gathering just in case. “You have been bonded to Clarissa for a reason, so I won’t kill you for how you just treated her.” His accented voice is smooth and matter of fact. Tilting his head to one side, he hovers his hand over the axe that’s strapped to his waist. “But if you ever hurt her like that again, or even so much as raise your voice to her, I will cut your balls off and offer them as a sacrifice to Holume.”
Something must be broken inside me, because something about his threat sends a thrill surging through my veins. Not at the idea of Grayson being hurt, but Tor trying to protect my honour. There is an allure that stokes arousal to life within me.
Vaeril snorts at my side, reluctantly pulling my attention away from Tor and Grayson. “Suddenly, the tribesman doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Clarissa, if you don’t want him, I’ll have him.” Naril hums in agreement behind me, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Are we understood?” Tor prompts, drawing our attention back to the two of them. However, when I look over, I’m surprised to see Grayson isn’t looking at Tor anymore, he’s watching me.
With a look I can’t identify, he nods before bringing his gaze back at the tribesman. “I understand.”
The atmosphere instantly seems to relax, and breathing becomes easier once again. I’m still a little uneasy, like I’m waiting for Grayson to change his mind and try to take me away again, but at least things feel more certain for the moment. This is the first time I’ve been together with all of my mates in one place, and there is something that feels inherently right about that, like we are all meant to be here.
Squeezing Vaeril’s hand, I start walking over to Tor and Grayson with him following by my side, Naril close behind us. Grayson eyes the two elves uneasily, and I see his fingers twitching as if he’s having to stop himself from casting spells. Vaeril is stoic, but Naril is grinning at the magician, flashing his teeth as he tries to goad him.
Glaring at the elf, I turn back to Grayson with an awkward smile. “Ignore him, that’s what I do most of the time.”
With one last frown in Naril’s direction, Grayson turns from the elf and looks at me once again. “Where do we go from here?” he asks, glancing at my companions, the packs on their backs, and the hoof prints in the earth. “You’re not going to come with me, are you?” He sounds resigned as he asks, like he knows the answer already, and when I meet his gaze, I see he’s smiling slightly.
Shaking my head, I feel my heart constrict tightly in my chest. He’s just found me, and now he’s going to leave again. “We’re going to Tor’s tribe. He thinks my aunt lives with one of the tribes,” I explain, unable to keep the sadness out of my voice.
“Your aunt? That’s great news.” His smile is bright and genuine. “I wish I could come with you.” That hint of regret is in his voice again, and I know I shouldn’t ask him, he’s got an important job to do. He