Shackled to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel

by Brutger, Stacey

  Glad to escape a tongue-lashing, Annora nodded. “I have a map.”

  Without waiting for a prompt from them and needing space to gather her wits, she whirled and dashed up the stairs. It didn’t take more than two seconds to find the map she taped under her mattress.

  But when she turned to go down the stairs, she couldn’t do it.

  They were waiting for her, their disappointment making it hard for her to catch her breath.

  With her uncle, she took the beating and could move past it, but her rebellion broke the trust between her and the guys, and she wasn’t sure how to get it back.

  She shouldn’t care.

  She was doing what they would do if they could to find Logan.

  So why did she feel so horrible about it?

  With a heavy sigh, she trudged down the stairs, each step weighing heavier on her. When she entered the kitchen, she found all five guys seated and waiting for her in silence. She swallowed hard, her feet frozen to the floor, her heart cracking a little at seeing them so united against her.

  Only when Mason stood and pulled out her chair was she able to function again.

  She hesitantly stepped toward them, not sure what to expect. She was raised with fists and pain, which was so much easier than this uncertainty. Unable to look at them and see their disappointment, she ducked her head while she unfolded the map and spread it out on the table.

  Two dozen black marks were slashed across the surface.

  Without speaking, the guys stood and leaned over the map. The five minutes of silence while they studied the map almost broke her. A beating, broken bones, or starvation she could handle, but being left out was breaking something deep inside her, and she shuffled her feet awkwardly, no longer feeling like one of them.

  As if her movement caught his attention, Camden lifted his dark head and pinned her to the spot, his expression completely pissed. “You were going to leave us behind to rescue him.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  She wanted to protest and defend herself, but he wasn’t wrong.

  If she had a chance to get Logan back, she would take it in a heartbeat.

  Mason wasn’t just furious, he was hurt, and her heart actually cracked at his devastated expression. Xander didn’t say anything. Though he might understand her reasoning, the tic in his jaw called her on her bullshit. He leaned over the map, his hands on the table as he surveyed her work. “How are you narrowing down your locations?”

  She swallowed hard against a lump in her throat, not sure how to answer them.

  Because she wasn't sure how she knew.

  Edgar swore and straightened. “Tell me you didn’t—”

  “Of course not,” Annora huffed in annoyance. “I said I wouldn’t slip into the afterworld, and I kept my word. My dreams. I’ve been dreaming about Logan. It’s so real that I could swear I’m actually standing next to him.”

  Tears pricked her eyes at what was happening to him in those dreams, her mind flooded with every devastating detail of what Logan was being forced to endure because of her, and she waited as the guys fell silent at the implications.

  “Fuck.” Xander’s voice was hoarse, easily reading her tortured expression. “You’re connected to Logan, picking up things from him when you sleep, living through whatever’s happening to him.”

  She tried to convince herself the nightmares weren’t real, but they were too similar to her childhood memories to dismiss. “And they’re getting worse. Logan won’t be able to take much more before he breaks.”

  Mason swallowed hard and grabbed her to his chest then dropped into a chair, his hold unbreakable as he pulled her onto his lap. She leaned against him, the reassuring beat of his heart helping her to breathe past the pain.

  “I can withstand any torture my uncle inflicts on me, but I can’t deal with Logan’s pain. It’s breaking me. How can I fight it?” Her voice wobbled pathetically. She glanced at the guys pleadingly, her lungs practically on fire as she waited for them to answer.

  “By staying strong for him.” Camden didn’t hesitate to speak. “He needs you to stay strong. If you falter, he’ll be the one to break. Can you do that for him?”

  Annora swallowed hard and answered truthfully. “I’m not sure.”

  She pulled away from Mason, shivering when it felt like all the warmth left her, and faced Xander. “Why is it so much easier to take a beating than to watch him being tortured?”

  Xander’s face softened, and he stepped toward her, pressing his forehead against hers. “Because caring for others is a bitch. It means your uncle didn’t break you. It means you survived. That you beat him. Don’t let him win now.”

  Camden curled his fingers into her hair, pulling her toward him. “You’re Logan’s alpha. You’ve claimed him. You can give him the strength he needs to survive.”

  “Camden!” Xander snapped, his expression murderous. “Logan would want her to have a choice. He wouldn’t want her to be tricked into claiming him.”

  The look that passed between the guys had her backing away, a dark suspicion worming its way into her gut. “Tell me.”

  Xander blocked her exit, leaving her trapped between the two men, each of them glaring at the other in a silent battle of wills.

  Edgar broke the stalemate. “What they don’t want to tell you is that your claim on them isn’t complete yet. You have the choice to walk away from them if you want.”

  Camden looked ready to deck Edgar. His gaze dropped to her and his expression softened. “Logan is reaching out for you because he acknowledges you as his alpha. You anchor him. If you accept him as your mate, you should be able to reach out to him. The connection should help shelter him from the worst of the pain, allowing him to heal from his injuries faster.”

  She blinked at him in astonishment, wanting to smack every fucking one of them for not telling her sooner. There was no way in hell that she would leave him to suffer in that hell alone if she could help it. “How?”

  “You can take control of his dreams and make him forget by taking him to a place that makes him happy.”

  Her mind went completely blank. Logan was basically born a slave, his entire life dedicated to serving a woman who took pleasure in making him as miserable as possible. His life was as shitty as hers, just in a different way. She combed her fingers through her hair, completely frustrated. “Where?”

  Camden’s smile was crooked and devastating as he gazed down at her. “It’s the same place for all of us…wherever you are.”

  Heat burned her cheeks, and she tangled her fingers together to keep from reaching out to Logan right now. She glanced over her shoulder to the stairs leading to her room, determined to reach him tonight.

  Only to have Edgar step directly in front of her. “If you do this, there will be no going back. Not even death will break this bond. If something happens to you, chances are none of them would survive long without you.”

  How could she let Logan die lost and alone because something might happen to her later?

  She couldn’t.

  She glanced around at the men and crossed her arms. “Then we better find a way to keep me alive.”

  Because no way in hell was she leaving Logan to his fate.

  She refused to allow him to sacrifice himself to protect her.

  “Logan wouldn’t want this for you.” Xander grabbed her shoulders, his conflicted expression torn between his deep yearning to belong against his fear that they were forcing her hand.

  “It’s my choice. None of you get to decide that for me. You’re family. My family.”

  She looked at Edgar, finally understanding what he’d done for her. He’d been her lifeline for years, helping her survive her uncle. He saved her…and bound himself to her in the process.

  How could she be mad at him when she was about to do the same thing? “I understand what’s at stake. They’re worth the risk.”

  He swallowed hard and gave a small bow of his head, accepting her silent apology for everything
he’d sacrificed for her.

  A little uncomfortable at the pure possessiveness shining in Edgar’s fathomless blue eyes, she turned toward Camden. “Show me what I need to do.”

  * * *

  Camden trailed Annora up the stairs, growing more and more anxious at the thought of being alone with her, knowing he’d be touching her bare skin soon. His nerves increased with every step, and he watched the sway of her hips, the way her hair swung back and forth across her back almost hypnotically.

  Unable to restrain himself, he reached out and brushed his fingertips along the silken strands. The need to bury his face into the heavy mass, almost a compulsion, made him jerk back and ball his hands into fists.

  It was harder to ignore the tremor that went through him at the thought of being allowed to hold her while she slept. He would have to touch Annora, feel the warmth of her skin, feel her body wrapped up in his arms as he held her to keep her from waking.

  The rest of the guys cleared out of the house to give them privacy and investigate what the witches were planning, and it scared the ever-loving crap out of him to be alone with her.

  What if something went wrong?

  What if he hurt her?

  Or worse, what if she never woke up again?

  He blew out a heavy breath, a spiky bundle of temptation and fear churning inside him like cactus needles.

  He’d dreamed about physical contact with her since he first met her, and his cock hardened just at the thought, but it was a dark temptation he didn’t allow himself with anyone—ever.

  His touch was toxic.

  He couldn’t forget.

  He could never forget.

  But she was different. A visceral yearning grabbed him every time she was near. The memory of her, the feel of her silken flesh the couple times he allowed himself to give in to temptation for just a few seconds, was imprinted on his mind forever.

  And, like an addict, he craved more.

  Could he really touch her without harming her?

  What was the limit?

  And, maybe even more important, could he dare allow himself to hope? If anything happened to her because of him…he would never forgive himself.

  As they entered her bedroom, the bed loomed large in his mind. His chest felt tight, his breathing becoming short puffs, and his feet froze to the floor. Annora didn’t show any such hesitation, marching directly toward the mattress and dropping down on the surface. She stretched out stiffly, like she was preparing for the guillotine, then looked at him and quirked a brow.

  “C’mere.” She sighed deeply and patted the bed next to her. “I want to get this over with.”

  Her anxiety allowed him to push away his own. This wasn’t about him—this was about her and Logan. Camden perched on the edge of the bed, careful to keep his distance as he pulled off his shoes, not allowing himself the smallest brush against her until it was time. “Are you more afraid this won’t work…or that it will?”

  “Both.” Her broken smile nearly crushed his resolve, and it was all he could do not to gather her up in his arms. Her face grew solemn. “If I’m right and we reach him…that means everything that’s been happening…”

  Her voice cracked, and she glanced away from him.

  “It means that what you saw was real.”

  She nodded meekly, barely a movement, and his plan to just hold her hand vanished, her pain ripping open his heart. Camden slowly stretched out next to her, gingerly gathering her in his arms. “It also means we have a chance to get him back. We have a way to reach him.”

  She twisted until she rested on her side and pressed her face against his shoulder, the whisper of her breath against his neck nearly making him groan his torment out loud, his arousal hitting so hard, he couldn’t even form a coherent thought. He shook his head to rid himself of his fantasies, and it took all his concentration to remember his purpose in her bed.

  No sex.

  He slipped his palm along her neck, cupping the back of it, and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as he waited for her to go limp.

  Instead, she snuggled against him, and he found himself unconsciously brushing his fingertips along her skin, the tangy smell of lemon and warm jasmine drawing him closer to get another whiff of her intoxicating scent.

  He hummed in the back of his throat, and she tipped her head back, their lips only separated by a fraction of an inch. Her dark eyes drew him closer, like he was the one under a spell.

  * * *

  Annora felt the pull of sleep but resisted for a moment longer, Camden’s fear and need reaching out to her. She leaned up, brushing her lips lightly against his, his tortured groan cut short when she pulled away.

  “We’ll practice touching and kissing and pushing our limits later. I promise. Right now we need to stay focused on Logan.” She swallowed hard, terrified what she might find when she closed her eyes, and fought against the need to sleep. “He—”

  “You’re right.” Camden shook his head, a shutter falling over his face. He stared down at her, once more completely analytical, and she hated the distance between them.

  She reached up, running her palm lightly along his jaw. He flinched at the contact, watching her for a second before leaning into her touch.

  “I’m not hurting you.” The awe in his voice nearly broke her heart. To go through life and never be able to touch or be touched by anyone was a different kind of torture than fists and words, but just as effective at destroying a person.

  “Of course not.” She rolled her eyes at the absurdity. “You would never hurt me.” She settled against him once again, resting her face against his chest, feeling her body relax for the first time in a week. “I haven’t been sleeping much. After watching them torture Logan, every time I close my eyes…” She took a shuddering breath. “I can’t force myself to get back into bed. But now I know it was real…”

  Rage burned through her like an inferno. She tightened her fingers into a fist, feeling her nails dig into her skin deep enough to draw blood, but the pain did nothing to dull her fury.

  She’d lived with her uncle for years, even had a chance to kill him, but ran like a coward.

  And now Logan was paying the price.

  If she had a chance to do it all over again, she’d kill that man in a heartbeat. It didn’t matter that she would’ve likely died in the process, she would take the chance if it meant the guys would be safe.

  Camden gingerly settled his hand on her hip, pulling her mind away from the nightmare of her thoughts. He slid his palm upward until his fingers rested against bare flesh at her waist, effectively distracting her. His breath stalled in his chest, his body stiff beneath her, as if he was waiting for a rejection.

  She placed her hand on his chest and slid it up until her fingertips rested against the pulse in his neck. The furious beating relaxed her, and she mentally counted each thump. “Don’t let me drown in the nightmares.”

  She lasted no more than thirty seconds before sleep claimed her.

  “Never.” He kissed her brow, his murmured words the last thing she heard.

  * * *

  Annora wasn’t sure what to expect, but finding Logan huddled on the cement floor was a relief. He wasn’t strapped to a table, his chest ripped open for her to watch his organs move and struggle to survive. Her uncle wasn’t hovering over him with a maniacal grin and sharp blades.

  But her relief was short-lived. He curled into a tighter ball, keeping his back to her, as if sensing her presence. “You shouldn’t have come. I told you not to come again.”

  His voice was hoarse and broken from too much screaming.

  She knew the signs well enough.

  Annora snorted at his comment and dropped to her knees at his side. “You should know by now that I rarely do as I’m told.”

  His huffed laugh was quickly cut off when he seemed to fold into himself. She touched his arm gently, almost afraid of what she would see. Her lungs stalled when
she caught her first sight of him. His face was almost unrecognizable under all the blood. Hundreds of cuts and bruises and massive swelling distorted his features, and her heart slowly shredded, threatening to choke her.

  Thick chains were cuffed around his arms, shackling him to the floor. The wounds around his wrists were so raw, bone gleamed through the meaty mess of what was left of his flesh, as if he was seconds away from gnawing off his own hands to be free. Blood continued to drip on the floor in an ever-widening puddle.

  Acid curdled her stomach.

  He’d given up hope.

  His black hair was limp, the bright red tips dulled. While he was normally slim, now his bones poked against his skin, his body all angles and sharp edges. His clothes were stained and matted, sticking to his skin, and she knew he must be severely injured if he was still bleeding. The floor was more of a stained concrete…easier to disguise the blood when they had visitors.

  Surprisingly, when people came to purchase your services, they didn’t like to see signs of torture. They liked things nice and tidy. Knowing was one thing, but seeing the results was too much for their delicate sensibilities.

  Not that any of the clients would have tried to help and rescue her—but because her value decreased if the client was distressed by all the blood and injuries.

  She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You think my uncle could be a little more original in his torture. How many cuts did he make before he gave up? I reached over three hundred before he got frustrated and slit my throat.”

  “Jesus.” They both turned at the sound of Camden’s voice.

  “What the hell?!” Annora blinked at him in surprise. “You were able to follow me.”

  Instead of replying, he knelt next to Logan and carefully touched his hand to the back of the kitsune’s neck.

  Logan blinked, as if in shock, then reached out and locked his hand around Camden’s wrist. “You’re real?” His eyes quickly latched onto hers and tears flooded his eyes. “The dreams are real? You’re not just in my head?”