Tor

by Lynn Lorenz

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Tor

  Copyright © 2013 by Lynn Lorenz

  Hartwood Digital Release: March 2019

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Tor by Lynn Lorenz

  To the Werewolf Fight League, Tor is a champion fighter. To his master, he’s nothing more than a slave. When Tor’s mate Jin is killed in a brutal cage fight, Tor never wants to fight again. His master, Marrack, has other plans for him.

  Sky is a beautiful young sex slave, trained to perform sex on whoever buys him. But Sky is special; he’s a virgin, and the man who owns him will be very lucky to be the first.

  When Marrack buys Sky for Tor, his plan to get Tor back in the cage is set in motion. How could the big were resist mating the beautiful boy? Marrack has one month to get Tor back into shape and fighting again. Everything is riding on this --Tor’s reputation, Sky’s freedom, and Marrack’s money.

  Will Tor find love again with a slave boy, or will Tor be betrayed by his new mate?

  Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM themes and elements, exhibitionism, master/slave, violence (including rape).

  Readers with a history of rape or sexual abuse may find elements of this story disturbing.

  Chapter One

  ∙•∙

  “Tor! Tor! Tor! Tor!”

  The chanting of the crowd surrounding the cage hampered Tor’s ability to hear. Behind him, his mate, Jin, hung back in the corner, his delicate hands gripping the steel chain links as he watched. In front of Tor, Cosack, the big bald Russian, paced back and forth, beating his chest. Spittle flew from his mouth as he cursed and raved at Tor, goading him before the bell rang to signal the final round.

  Cosack’s owner called him to the side of the cage, and he went, still glaring at Tor over his shoulder, the outline of a black baying wolf tattooed there. His owner wiped the blood from Cosack’s arm and checked the healed wound, then spoke to the werewolf in a tone too low for Tor to hear above the roar of the crowd.

  Marrack, Tor’s owner, stood silent at the side of the cage, knowing better than to try to tell Tor how to fight, but the look in his eyes and the thin line of his mouth told Tor that his confidence in ending this fight with a win wavered.

  Tor glanced up at the scoreboard at the rear of the arena. He was ahead in points, and all he needed were a few good hits, or to pin Cosack, and he’d win. A clock counted down the seconds before the bell starting the round would ring.

  Both werewolves wore blood from the fight, but his challenger had grown more and more out of control with each round. As the mating urge compelled him to attack Tor, the challenger’s ice-blue gaze kept straying to Jin. Cosack’s attempts to weaken Tor enough to claim Tor’s mate as his own wore Tor down, but so far, he’d handled them.

  The crowd cheered when the bell rang. Cosack roared and punched his owner in the face, knocking the man off the cage and into the first row of seats.

  In all his years in the fighting cage, Tor had never seen an insane werewolf before, but that was what he looked at now. For the first time since this fight had started, fear skittered along Tor’s spine. If Cosack dared to attack his owner, he was capable of anything, and that made him even more dangerous.

  Tor would never let that crazed bastard touch Jin. He’d die first.

  “Tor, watch him.” Jin’s hiss of warning reached Tor’s ears, and he nodded. “He’s going to shift.” Jin, Tor’s partner in the cage, had never failed to know just when a competitor would change to his wolf form.

  Tor shifted first.

  Cosack didn’t.

  The big Russian charged him, and Tor leaped to the side, his teeth snapping at Cosack as he passed him. A flash of metal caught Tor’s eye, and his wolf brain registered it as foreign. No weapons were allowed in the cages. Only claws, teeth, fighting skills, and wits. Where did that—

  His body spasmed as Cosack drove the thin blade deep into Tor’s side. Blinding pain exploded as his chest collapsed, his lung punctured, his ability to breathe stolen from him in an illegal move.

  Tor slammed onto the floor, his body sliding, skidding into the center of the cage. Struggling to get to his feet, he crawled around, using his hind legs to push as one foreleg dangled useless and the other scrabbled on the cement floor. His claws shredded as bloody foam bubbled from his mouth.

  Cosack roared and advanced on Jin.

  Tor’s bark came out merely a whine, too pitiful, too stretched to be heard above the crowd’s roar. Around him, cries flew up like black crows rising a hundred feet over the floor of the arena to the steel rafters holding the cameras televising the fights. Spectators rattled their chairs, and the place, every seat taken, exploded in a thousand voices. All yelling. All chanting. All screaming.

  Through the babble, Tor heard only Jin’s voice.

  “Tor. No. Please get up,” Jin cried. Their gazes locked across the thirty feet separating them, Tor on the floor, unable to get to his feet, and Jin trapped in the corner of the cage as Cosack advanced to claim his victory.

  To claim Tor’s mate.

  Tor tried to crawl, scraping on his belly, his hind legs pushing, but he couldn’t shift the weight of his upper body with his left side immobile. It was over. Cosack had won. And he’d take Jin, there in the corner of the cage, in front of thousands. In front of Tor’s owner, Marrack. In front of Tor. The ultimate loss.

  Tor’s honor, his pride, his mate.

  Cosack grabbed Jin by the throat with his huge hand and lifted him into the air. The slave chains linking Jin’s wrists together clinked as Jin clawed at Cosack’s hand. Blood dripped on the floor as Jin’s nails dug into the Russian’s flesh, but Cosack never let go.

  “Mine!” Cosack’s voice cut through all the noise around Tor. He shook Jin, and the boy’s naked body flailed, his legs snapping back and forth, his face turning red as the big bastard cut off his air.

  Despite it all, Jin’s gaze still held Tor in its grip. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t let Jin go through this alone. Cosack would be brutal, Tor knew it. And from the terror in Jin’s brown eyes, Jin knew it too.

  Cosack threw Jin to the ground. “Position, slave!” he ordered as Jin lay splayed on his belly, his chest heaving as he sucked in air.

  Tor smelled Jin’s fear, and he whimpered. Jin tried to smile, to let Tor know it would be all right. That no matter what, Jin loved Tor. Forever.

  Shaking, Jin got to his hands and knees, lowered his head, and pushed his ass into the air, in mating position. Jin knew the price for Tor failing to protect him in the cage. They both did, and until this moment, in three years of cage fights, Tor had never lost. Together they had defeated every competitor in the league.

  Until now. Until this madman.
>
  Cosack, his cock already hard in anticipation, stood behind Jin and roared at the booing crowd. People threw empty beer and food containers at the cage, some deflected by the fencing while some made it onto the floor. Everything seemed to drive Cosack wilder, and he roared at the crowd.

  Cosack grabbed Jin’s waist with hands as large as Tor’s, though nowhere near as gentle. For a split second Tor wanted to close his eyes, to break away from the sight, but to do so would leave Jin alone, and he could never do that. The cold of the cement floor seeped into his body. He could barely take in a breath, and he knew he was dying.

  But not until it was over. Not until Cosack let Jin go. Not until Jin held Tor one last time. He’d keep breathing until then. For Jin.

  Cosack roared and thrust, and Jin screamed, the sound ripping Tor’s heart into pieces. The fucking was brutal; Cosack’s grunts fell like acid on Tor’s skin, and still Jin’s gaze never left Tor.

  The Russian grabbed Jin around the chest and pulled him up to sit on his lap as he kneeled. Tears slipped down Jin’s cheeks as he mouthed, I love you. In wolf form, Tor could only blink and whimper. But Jin knew.

  Cosack placed his hands on either side of Jin’s head and twisted, snapping Jin’s neck. He pushed Jin, and his body slid off Cosack’s still-hard cock and fell as if in slow motion to the concrete floor, landing with his face turned away from Tor.

  Tor’s heart stopped beating.

  The crowd fell silent.

  Howling, Cosack stood, jerked himself, and shot his cum all over Jin’s body.

  Across the cage, Tor stared.

  Jin’s gaze frozen forever in Tor’s mind, not in life, but in death.

  The shouts of the crowd returned, and the handlers rushed into the cage, stun rifles leveled at Cosack, who stood over Jin’s body, roaring in defiant insanity at the world.

  Tor watched as they shot that fucking dog down. Watched as Cosack went to his knees, still screaming. Watched as he fell face forward, his body twitching as each electric dart slammed into his body. Then he lay still.

  Tor closed his eyes. He could die now. He didn’t need to wait for Jin anymore.

  Chapter Two

  “Jin!” Tor shouted and sat up. Chest heaving, he looked around the room, trying to place himself. Not in the cage. His quarters. His bed.

  Jin was dead.

  He flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. Realized the harsh buzzing hadn’t been the crowd in his dream but someone at the door of his quarters.

  “Fuck.” He wiped his hand over his face, tossed back the cover, and, naked, padded to the door. Only one person it could be, and Tor didn’t want to see him.

  He hit the lock and opened the door. His owner, Marrack, stood on the other side.

  “What do you want? I just gave you semen last week. Don’t tell me you spilled it and you’re back for more?” Tor turned away and headed to the bathroom to piss. He had no idea if Marrack came in or left, and he didn’t care.

  He emptied his bladder, flushed, and came out.

  Marrack sat on the couch, not daring to sit in Tor’s recliner. He might be the owner, but Tor was a werewolf with a fuck-you attitude.

  “What do you want?” Tor sat and leaned back, the leg support rising, his skin registering the chill of the imitation leather. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Marrack’s face.

  “I want you back in the cage.”

  Tor’s eyes snapped open, and he glared at his owner as he flexed his hands, curling them into large, hard fists.

  Marrack leaned forward. His deep brown eyes, topped with heavy dark eyebrows, looked worried.

  “Not going to happen.” Tor clamped his mouth shut.

  “I need you in the cage. I need the money.” Marrack twisted his hands together.

  “Tell it to someone who cares.” Tor snorted.

  “If I go under, I’ll have to sell you.”

  “Is that supposed to be some sort of threat?” Tor shook his head. A feeble attempt at best. He’d thought Marrack had better. Guess not.

  “Look, I’m making some money studding you out, but it’s nothing compared to what you bring in for a fight.” Marrack knew as well as Tor that the more stud jobs Marrack took, the less valuable Tor’s semen became.

  “Where’d all the money go?” Tor asked, not really caring.

  Marrack snorted this time. “Your fucking medical bills, asshole.”

  “You should have let me die, Marrack.” Tor got up, snapping the recliner closed, and went to the galley kitchen on one side of the large room. “At least you could have collected the insurance money.” He opened the door and bent over to get a drink.

  Marrack didn’t answer.

  Tor looked up over the door of the refrigerator. “Don’t fucking tell me I wasn’t insured.”

  Marrack shook his head.

  “What the fuck kind of owner are you? Every werewolf on the circuit is insured, even the losers, and I’m a fucking champion.”

  “I never thought…”

  “What? That I’d lose? That I’d die?” Tor’s voice rose. “That some crazed fucking insane were would stab me and kill my mate?” He yelled now. “Is that why you kept me alive? So I could make money for you again?” He slammed the door, and the unit rocked.

  Marrack stood. “You’re valuable, and you know it. But only alive.”

  Tor was property, first and foremost; he’d never fooled himself into thinking Marrack was his friend. Marrack owned him, just like all the other owners in the WereWolf Fight League owned their werewolves. It was the sole reason Tor had been bred. He’d been raised as a cage fighter for the humans’ amusement and gambling. He was nothing to Marrack but property.

  “What do you want?” Tor’s voice fell to a warning growl.

  “I want you back in the ring.” They’d been together for six years, ever since Marrack had won him in a game of poker from Tor’s previous owner, a man who had no idea what to do with a werewolf in training. Marrack had finished Tor’s training and had been the one to buy Jin for Tor. For that alone, Tor owed Marrack.

  “Did you forget one little thing?” Tor glared at his owner.

  Marrack raised his brows.

  “My mate is dead.” Tor went back to the recliner and sat. Without a mate to fight for and defend in the cage, weres refused to fight. That was nothing more than a dog fight. Tor was a three-time champion, and there was no way he’d start over as a lowly challenger.

  “It’s been six months, Tor.” Marrack used his reasonable voice. The one he used when he tried to convince Tor something was okay when it really sucked.

  Tor ran the back of his hand over his mouth. He knew exactly how many months, days, and hours it had been since Jin had been murdered. How many nights he’d dreamed of that moment. How many times he’d woken up screaming for Jin. How long it had been since he’d insisted Marrack give Jin a proper burial and not allow his body to be thrown into the mass grave reserved for slaves outside the city’s walls.

  “I won’t fight to claim a mate. I’m no challenger. Besides, I don’t want another mate, Marrack.” Tor shook his head. “It would be starting over, and I’m too old for that.”

  “I don’t care what you want, Tor; I own you. You’ll fight whether you want to or not, if that’s what I want.”

  Marrack stood and went to the door. He opened it and leaned out. “Give it to me.”

  Tor sighed. What the fuck now?

  Marrack returned with a silver chain in his hand. He gave it a jerk, and a figure dressed in the sheer black, silver-trimmed head-to-toe burka slaves wore stepped inside.

  “Oh fucking no!” Tor bellowed and pushed to his feet.

  Marrack removed the burka; first the head veil, then the cloth wrapped around the slave’s body. A young man, naked, all pale skin and a mop of black hair, stared at the floor in perfect slave obedience.

  “I’m not going to beg, Tor. I’m telling you—you’re going to fight. I spent the last of my money on him. He’s beautiful.�
�� Marrack offered the chain to Tor. It connected to another chain running from rings pierced through both the boy’s nipples. He wore matching ropes of chains around each ankle and wrist, and delicate, silver-embroidered black silk slippers on his feet.

  “No.” Tor shook his head. “You can’t just—”

  “I can and I have. He’s yours. Claim him. I want you back in the ring in one month. I’ve already scheduled the fight. Get back in shape or get your ass kicked in the ring and lose another mate. But I swear, if you lose this time, I’m done with you. I’ll sell you so fast you won’t know what hit you, and I’m sure you won’t like being someone’s sex slave. Being fucked instead of fucking?” With that, Marrack dropped the chain to the floor and left. Ran out was more like it. The door slammed behind him.

  Tor grabbed his hair and pulled at it. He never wanted to stand in a cage again, never wanted to know that if he failed, his honor and pride would be ruined and his mate would be forfeit. Damn Marrack. Tor had hoped the man would just retire him, but they both knew that at twenty-six, Tor had at least three, maybe four more years as a fighter left in him.

  Tor didn’t think he could stand another three years of fighting. His heart wasn’t in it anymore. And heart was what had made him a champion; his love for Jin and his desire to protect Jin. Now Jin was gone, and he had no reason to fight.

  The slave boy stood, hands behind his back, eyes on the floor.

  What the fuck was he going to do now?

  Well, he wasn’t going to claim this boy. No fucking way. Let Marrack sell him, what did he care? One owner was the same as another, but the thought of being some man’s fuck toy sent disgust surging through his body. He was a warrior. Or had been.

  Tor knew Marrack, knew what to expect from him. A new owner, well, who knew? Better the devil you know. At least Marrack didn’t want to fuck him.

  Tor went back to the kitchen to get the drink he’d gone there for in the first place. He pulled out the can of protein drink, opened it, and downed it. Weres needed double the amount of protein a human did, and liquid supplements were cheaper than red meat, and until Tor was training again, Marrack wouldn’t supply him much in the way of meat. Tor tossed the empty into the trash and belched.