Shackled to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel

by Brutger, Stacey

  He slowly pulled away from temptation.

  Not like this.

  Not on the floor like the heathen he’d been accused of being so often when he was younger.

  Feeling like he was tearing off his own skin, he pulled away and stood, although seeing her sprawled naked on the floor nearly made him drop back to his knees.

  Instead, he reached down and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. At her questioning look, he kissed the tip of her nose and pushed her toward the shower. “I won’t take you while your blood still stains your skin. I won’t take advantage of you.”

  * * *

  Annora gave him a soft smile. He wasn’t the type of man to give her flowers or poetry. His gruff comment was his version of romance. She mattered to him, enough that he was trying to look out for her.

  If she was just another one of his girls, he would’ve fucked her without a second thought.

  Instead he wanted it to be special for her.

  Wanted to treat her like she mattered.

  When he tried to back away and give her space, she quickly grabbed his shirt. “But what if I want to take advantage of you? You have blood on you, too. We could share…the shower.”

  The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t because she was having doubts, it was because he was part of her soul. Touching him made her feel whole and loved. Like all the loss and pain had been worth it.

  His teal eyes darkened with lust and he stepped into the shower with her fully clothed.

  Hot water pelted them, soaking his clothes and painting the shower stall red with their blood.

  She slipped her hands between his back and his soaking wet shirt, running her palms up the powerful muscles, checking for any injuries…but the instant she touched his skin, she was distracted. A hum of pleasure caught in her throat when he pushed her against the cool tile and kissed her like he couldn’t get enough.

  He didn’t let up, didn’t let her catch her breath. His hand was pressed against the wall near her head, while the other rested at her waist, his fingers tracing lightly against her skin, the complete opposite of his demanding mouth.

  Annora pushed at his chest, and he backed away, searching her face, as if checking to make sure he hadn’t pushed her too far, too fast. Without giving him a chance to ask questions, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled up on it, then scowled when she couldn’t reach high enough to remove it completely.

  Being short fucking sucked. “Off.”

  He smirked at her demand, but obeyed, tugging it over his head before tossing it aside without bothering to look where it landed with a splotch.

  Narrowing her eyes at him, mostly to stop herself from licking the water off his chest, she lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “Pants, too.”

  There was no smile this time when he glanced at her from under his brows, just straight lust. Without hesitation, he reached for his pants, freeing himself.

  Dear gods above—the man didn’t wear underwear.

  Steam curled around them, playing peek-a-boo with the goods. As if knowing he had her completely captivated, he quickly stripped and straightened, making no move to touch her while she looked her fill.

  The man was built, not an inch of fat on him. She noted the silver marks of old scars but barely noticed them at all, too distracted by the delicious muscles on display. His thighs were huge, matching the expanse of his chest and strong arms. A light dusting of hair covered his chest, and it was all she could do not to close the distance between them and nuzzle against him.

  When he moved, he didn’t touch her. Instead, he reached down and cupped himself, running his hand over his erection. Heat swamped her cheeks, spreading down her neck, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from watching him stroke himself.

  Memories of the last time she watched him in the shower nearly made her groan. “No fair.”

  The way his eyes darkened said he was remembering, too.

  She licked her lips, aching to touch him.

  Then he stopped, and her head snapped up. Before she could open her mouth to protest, he bowed his head to her. “I’m yours to command.”

  Giving her complete and total control over him.

  Lust weakened her knees, and she leaned back against the cold wall when her legs wobbled.

  He did that once before when he was worried about rushing her, when he thought she was afraid, trying to give her time to adjust to touching him.

  There was something wicked about knowing she could do whatever she wanted to him. Giving in to temptation, she leaned closer and licked his chest.

  And was startled when he groaned and trembled.

  Gently resting her hand on his chest, she marveled at being able to touch his hot, naked skin, the hairs tickling deliciously against her palms. His tortured expression was both heaven and hell, and every drop of water was a caress, leaving her wanting more. “Next time we can play your game. Right now, I need you.”

  She nipped his chest when he only stared down at her.

  Then she was lifted clear off her feet when he exploded into action. She wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning when she felt his erection press against her. His grip was rough, his lips bruising when he smashed his mouth against hers.

  The kiss was demanding and consuming. He nipped and sucked, granting her no quarter.

  He made her feel alive and cherished, his hands rough as he dragged his callused palms over her body. The heat of him burned, and she rubbed against him, reveling in his nearness.

  He slammed her against the cool tiles, the roughness startling a groan out of her. He ripped his mouth away from hers, then leaned down and nipped at the tip of her breast. She shuddered, the pain twisting to pleasure until she burned right along with him.

  It was almost too much, her senses on the verge of overload. Feeling his teeth and claws caress her skin made her shiver, and it wasn’t long before she was marked from head to toe. When she tried to touch him in return, he resisted, like he was on a mission to drive her insane.

  Determined not to let him get away with taking charge, she reached between them and grabbed his cock, setting her nails against the warm skin, and he instantly stilled.

  She finally had his attention.

  He pressed one of his hands against the tile near her head, the other still supporting her…once again giving her complete control over him.

  Smiling in satisfaction, she tightened her hold and stroked him, leaving him panting in under a minute, thrusting his cock into her hand. He gave a tortured groan, the muscles in his neck straining as he tipped his head back and struggled not come in her hand.

  The tile under his hand cracked.

  Realizing that he needed the closeness between them as much as she did, Annora leaned in to him and bit his shoulder.

  Something inside him broke. He lifted her, then slammed into her hard and fast. The pleasure-pain was addicting. Neither of them lasted more than a minute as he pounded relentlessly into her. Her orgasm blasted through her first, taking all the worry and pain away until there was only the two of them. As she tightened around him, he flexed his hips in a way that robbed her of breath, sending her shooting even higher.

  He gave a tortured groan, and she felt him pulse inside her as he found his own release.

  She felt boneless, both of them panting as they struggled not to collapse and drown.

  The sex was rough and beautiful, just like him.

  He reached up, smoothing her hair away from her face, searching her eyes, his expression pensive. She smiled up at him lazily, using her fingertips to trace his lips. “Wow.”

  Only then did his serious expression melt away.

  His shoulders relaxed, his half smile a little smug as he turned and began to wash her clean. Once done, he then gave himself a perfunctory swipe. As he stood under the spray, she moved closer to him, slipping her arms around him from behind, setting her hands over the taut muscles of his stomach and pressing her face between h
is shoulder blades.

  Xander stilled, bowing his head, then rested his hand over hers, holding her close. Peace settled over them. Though she knew it wouldn’t last, she savored the feeling.

  Much too soon, he turned the water off, then swept her off her feet before setting her down gently on a fluffy rug. Walking naked to the open closet, he selected the biggest, fluffiest towel and wrapped her up in it, covering her from shoulders to ankles.

  She smiled, suspecting it was one of Mason’s.

  Xander patted her down, making sure every inch of her was dry before he was satisfied, then grabbed his own towel, wrapping it around his waist, leaving it hanging deliciously low. When he grabbed her hand and began dragging her back to his room, she stumbled after him, completely distracted by the view and water droplets trailing down his back.

  Shaking her head to clear it, she reached behind her, quickly snagging another towel and began to pat her hair dry, anything to get her mind out of the gutter.

  He left her standing in the middle of his room as he went to his dresser and rummaged through the top drawer. He returned with one of his shirts. Without asking permission, he tugged her towel off, letting it drop to the floor, and pulled his shirt over her head.

  He stood back, his head tipped to the side as he studied her, then grunted and nodded, seemingly pleased to see her wearing his shirt. Once satisfied, he cuddled her into his arms, leaning down to sniff at her neck and hair with a rumble of pleasure, seeming content to have her covered in his scent.

  When he pulled away, he went back to his dresser and dropped his towel. She made a strangled sound to see he was fully erect again. He glanced at her over his shoulder, brow raised, then shrugged when he saw the direction of her gaze and lazily pulled on a pair of sweatpants, completely ignoring his erection.

  “Ready?” He came to a stop next to her, hesitantly holding his hand out, not quite looking at her.

  As if he expected her to pull away and pretend what they shared never happened.

  Pursing her lips at the idiot girls in his past, she slipped her hand into his, enjoying the slide of his callused fingers against her palms, and tightened her grip until he looked up at her. “Any time.”

  His expression brightened, his teal eyes sparkled at the promise, and he tugged her out the door. As they headed toward the stairs, she stopped at the bottom, her chest constricting at the thought of seeing Logan again.

  “Annora? May I speak to you?”

  She whirled to see Edgar waiting at the bottom of the stairs, partially hidden in the shadows of the kitchen. Grateful for the reprieve, she nodded. “Fine.”

  She lifted Xander’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll be right back.”

  He leaned closer and kissed her forehead, then disappeared up the stairs. Blowing out a breath, she headed toward the kitchen with a heavy heart, bracing herself for the pain of having Edgar leave her for another woman.

  Edgar was pacing back and forth, his head down, looking completely lost, and it hurt her to see him so defeated.

  “Do you love her?”

  Edgar jerked as if she’d shot him. As she waited for him to answer, it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Edgar whirled and scowled at her. “Of course not.”

  Her relief was instantaneous, the churning in her stomach settled, while the world around her finally came into focus again, and she glared at him. “Then why did you go to her?”

  She bit her lip, cursing herself for even asking.

  It was selfish, but she couldn’t help feeling like he abandoned her.

  Edgar grabbed her hands as if he could stop her from slipping away. “She was dying. Dying for a phantom is beyond frightening. We don’t just die—we’re sent to the afterworld to be hunted down. I couldn’t let her face that alone.”

  His voice cracked, and she felt like an ass. He had been alone for so long in the abyss, and no one went after him. Of course he couldn’t let her die alone. She dropped her forehead against his shoulder, feeling like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.

  “Why didn’t she heal?” She pressed her hand over his heart, only relaxing when his arms wrapped around her.

  Edgar rubbed the back of her neck, the touch soothing both of them. “She doesn’t have an affinity for the afterworld like you do. The sword that cut her was created with dark matter, making the wounds burn deeper, the injuries more severe. The combination was catastrophic for her.”

  He ran his hand down her back, cuddling her closer, almost as if she was the one he nearly lost. “What you did was absolutely amazing…but it’s going to attract the attention of your father. He’s going to come for you now.”

  She shivered at his certainty, then brushed it off. “He was going to come after me either way.”

  His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest. “You risk getting captured if you go help her.”

  “Not for her, you idiot…for you.” Annora pulled back to look up at him, needing to know how he really felt. “But are you sure this is what you want? You could have your old life back, everything you lost. I—”

  “I’m sure.” He buried his face against the crook of her neck. “I can’t lose you, not after I just found you. I can’t go back to that empty life—I won’t. We’re in this together.”

  Her heart seized at his conviction. While his vow should’ve thrilled her, she was terrified instead. She didn’t want sole responsibility for his happiness. She was toxic to those she loved. People would keep coming for her, targeting them to get to her.

  But she was too selfish to let them go.

  She pressed against Edgar, vowing to do everything in her power, even break the veil separating them from the afterworld, if that’s what it took.

  Edgar straightened and kissed the top of her head. “Your men are waiting for you.”

  Upstairs.

  In her bed.

  She should be nervous about the prospect of sleeping next to them—touching them—but it felt odd not to have them close. She craved their touch after so many years of being isolated. Pulling away from him, she turned toward the stairs, then reached back and held out her hand when he didn’t follow. “You coming?”

  He straightened, his shoulders going back, his eyes suddenly blazing with emotions, and he grabbed her hand. His grip was tight, a silent promise that he would never let her go again, and the cage holding her emotions in check creaked open a little. As they reached the second floor, she paused at the bottom of the steps, suddenly worried about her welcome.

  Edgar squeezed her hand, standing quietly at her side to give her time to shore up her ragged emotions. When she released a heavy sigh, he brushed his thumb along the back of her hand. Touching was still new for both of them, and she glanced at him to see his dark blue eyes staring at their joint hands in wonder.

  As if sensing her attention, he glanced up and gave her a gentle smile. “You have nothing to fear. Your battered heart is safe with them.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, her voice hoarse. She could survive a beating and swallow pain with a laugh, but just the thought of her men turning away from her was enough to destroy her.

  Edgar lifted her hand to cover his heart. “Because if they feel even a tenth of what I do, the thought of blaming you never entered their minds.”

  She searched his face for the truth and saw what she had been too afraid to look for earlier—and her breath caught in the back of her throat. “You love me.”

  “Always.” He gave her a crooked smile. “With everything that I am.”

  Wonder and joy bubbled through her, and she reached up to cup his face. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing, as if he’d finally come home.

  “How do phantoms pledge themselves to each other?” Her heart skipped a beat at the very idea of someone taking him from her now she finally found him.

  His eyes snapped open, and he gazed down at her with the pure afterworld bla
zing in his eyes. He searched her face, then released a shuddering breath. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Annora placed her hand directly over his heart. “We almost lost each other once. I want to be your anchor, so you’ll never be lost or alone again.”

  He wet his lips, his hand trembling under hers. “If you have any doubts, we can wait. Once done, it can’t be undone. You’ll never escape me.”

  “I’m sure. One hundred percent.” Annora tipped her head to the side and pursed her lips. “But the same goes for you. If you’re doing this out of a sense of obligation, or because of my father—”

  “Your father never crossed my mind.” Edgar gave her a savage grin, the afterworld fading from his eyes and the fathomless blue she adored swirled in the depths as he pulled her closer. “I’m selfish and greedy and want you for my own. I want the family you’re building here, not the one that tossed me away, and I will defend you and this new future with my life.” He quickly searched her eyes. “If you’ll have me.”

  Her skin tingled at his vow, her heart ready to burst. She tightened her hands on his shoulders, possessiveness and yearning sweeping through her. Everything he described sounded like a fairytale come true. “Yes—yes to everything.”

  Edgar drew away from her, pulling out a knife from somewhere on his person. He held out his hand, silently asking for her trust. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his, palm up. Gazing into her eyes, he ran the blade across her flesh. Blood beaded up from the small, shallow cut to pool in her hand, and she gave a hum of pleasure at the bite of pain.

  She watched him make the same cut across his own palm, then reach for her, his bloody hand closing around the inside of her wrist. She followed his example, clamping his arm in her hand, and she peeked up at him.

  Raw hunger and possessiveness blazed in his black eyes. She felt the tug of the afterworld as dark particles began to swirl and twine around their clamped arms. The darkness solidified until they were bound together by a curl of smoke. It licked at her flesh, and pain prickled along her wrist where his blood touched, searing into her skin like a brand.