Willing Sacrifice Read Online Free PDF Page A

love her less.
    Torr found the strength to push himself upright just as the door opened, letting in dusty shafts of sunlight. He refused to squint at the sudden brightness. He didn’t want to wait even one more second to see her again.
    “You summoned me, Brenya?” Grace asked in a quiet, sweet voice he would have recognized anywhere.
    He still couldn’t see her from this angle. She was standing outside of the doorway, blocked from view. Still, his entire body became alert, every cell standing at attention in response to her nearness.
    The need to see her—to see proof with his own eyes that she was alive—nearly drove him to his feet. Only his worry that he might topple over and embarrass himself kept him pinned in place.
    Brenya waved toward him. “This man was injured slaying the beast. Tend him.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    Grace stepped into the hut. The door shut. His eyes adjusted to the dimness almost immediately, revealing a slight glimpse of the side of her face.
    Her hair was longer now. Much, much longer. Soft black curls fell nearly to her waist.
    There hadn’t been time for her hair to grow that long, had there? She’d only been gone for seven months.
    Some bit of stored knowledge tickled the back of his mind, but his head was throbbing too much for him to grasp the thought.
    Her arms and legs were bare beneath a short leather tunic, showing off muscles he was certain hadn’t been there before. His Grace had always been softly rounded, with curves that made him pant with need. The leaner, harder body he saw now was proof that she
had
changed.
    Maybe food was scarce here. Maybe that was why Brenya had seemed so pleased about a giant pile of lizard meat.
    Just the thought of Grace going without the basic necessities was enough to make a sudden wave of anger swell in his gut.
    Never again
. So long as he lived, Grace would never go hungry again. And even though his vow was silent, its weight was as solid and real as if he’d spoken the words aloud.
    She turned to face him then, and he was struck breathless. Her beauty was so brilliant and glowing it made him feel the need to shield his eyes. Those sweet brown eyes of hers, always so filled with sincere concern, were just as he remembered. Her skin was a bit darker from sun exposure, but still as flawless and smooth as in his dreams. Her hands were adorned with intricately knotted fiber rings and bracelets, but her slender, gentle fingers had touched him too many times for him not to know them instantly.
    Had he not given Brenya his vow of silence, he would have still been struck speechless. Endless days of wondering if she was safe—if she was in pain—were finally at an end.
    His Grace was alive, and everything inside of him wanted to rejoice.
    He gripped the side of the cot he sat on, hoping to prevent himself from sweeping her up in his arms. He’d told Brenya that he would never do anything to hurt Grace, and he meant every word. No matter how hard it was for him to restrain himself, he would find the strength to pretend he didn’t know her.
    She offered him a tentative smile that showed no hint of recognition. “The village hero. I’ll have you patched up in no time. Where do you hurt?”
    Torr remained silent and glanced at Brenya.
    “He can’t speak, child. His throat was injured. I’ll see to that later. You tend the wounds you can see.”
    Grace’s gaze swept over him, taking in his cuts, burns and bruises. Her visual journey slowed as she saw his lifemark, then again as she noticed the crescent-shaped mark Brenya had burned into his skin. She studied his face, brushing his hair away from a shallow wound across his forehead.
    Sympathy warmed her brown eyes, and her touch was so gentle it nearly brought tears to his eyes.
    He hadn’t been able to feel all those times she’d touched him before, seeing to his care as he lay trapped inside his paralysis. He’d lived for the times she’d shaved his face or trimmed his hair, reveling in