Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,25
this conversation, but I’m grateful he is.
Vaeril seems surprised by the question, and when a feeling of respect reaches me through the bond, I know he appreciates Tor taking the time to ask. Pulling his hand from me, he takes a step back, even though it looks like it physically pains him not to be touching me. “I can’t stop it, and the goddess has willed it,” he replies in a typical elvish non-answer, not really telling Tor his opinions on the situation. Just as I think that’s all the response we’re going to get on the topic, Vaeril makes a slight humming noise, and when I look up, I see him wearing a wry smile. “I suppose I know of worse men I would choose to have at my side.”
Stunned, I watch as Vaeril nods his head at Tor, his intense gaze flicking once to me before he returns to the fire where Naril waits for him. I can’t quite believe what just happened. “Did Vaeril just give us his blessing?” I query, looking up at an equally surprised Tor.
“I think he did.” He laughs and tightens his arms around me once again, instantly making me forget my confusion as my desire for him reignites. His smile slowly drops as an intense expression takes over his face, his eyes locked onto mine as he opens his mouth to speak. “Dance with me?”
That is not what I expected him to say. I stare at him in stunned silence as a dozen thoughts go through my mind. He simply looks down at me, waiting for my response. Anger bubbles up inside me.
“No.” Releasing his shirt, I take a small step back and cross my arms over my chest. Tor watches me warily, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he tries not to smile, knowing that will only frustrate me more, and he’s right. “I am not letting you put this off any longer. Take me into a tent and make me your mate in more ways than just words!” Tor’s expression changes as I speak, his smile dropping and a crease appearing between his eyes as he realises what I’m saying. Suddenly, my frustration and desire are replaced by nausea as an abrupt understanding comes to me. “Unless—” Pausing, I take a deep breath, swallowing against my parched throat. “Unless you’ve been putting it off because this is not what you want?” The words taste like acid, but I can’t seem to stop them now that they have entered my mind.
Tor’s shaking his head and moving towards me before I’ve even finished the question, gripping my shoulders. “Clarissa.” I can’t bear to look at him, the thought that he may not want me after all is so painful, it overrides all logic. His hand shoots up and he grips my chin, gently bringing my face around so I’m looking at him. “Liv. No.” His voice is firm, and the mention of that name, ‘Liv,’ makes me pay attention. He’s called me that before. Before I can ask what he’s talking about, his arms come around me and he scoops me up against his chest.
Gasping, I instinctively grip his shoulders as he strides away from the bonfires, ignoring the stares and catcalls of the tribespeople. Looking up, I see Tor’s handsome features are set in a stern expression, and I know I’m in trouble. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long before we reach his tent and he storms through the entrance, the fabric flaps falling shut behind us as he puts me down near his bed and starts to pace. Like most of the tents here, it’s tall enough so he can stand at his full height, and it’s big enough to fit a bed, a small table, and chair, so he is only able to walk about three strides before having to turn the other way. Perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed, I watch him, my gut clenching. “Tor, look, I’m sorry—”
My voice snaps him from his pacing and he immediately walks over, cutting me off as he kneels at my feet. “Clarissa, listen to me. It is I who should be apologising.” I stare at him in confusion, his face torn. “If I have in some way given you the idea that I didn’t want to be your mate…” He trails off, shaking his head and blowing out a frustrated breath, rubbing a hand through his beard before meeting my eyes. “There is no greater