Torn (A Wicked Trilogy Book 2)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“Ren is cool and awesome enough,” I corrected Tink. “He’s a total badass.”

  “Whatever.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree. Moving on. You cannot tell him. It is his duty to end you.”

  My breath caught.

  Like it had been his duty to allow his best friend Noah to walk away, knowing that it would be the last time he’d see him. God, Ren had even said he couldn’t go through that again, and I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t put that kind of knowledge on him.

  “I won’t,” I whispered.

  Tink nudged my arm with his foot. “You have to pull it together, Ivy. Like right now.”

  I looked over at him. “I think I’m owed a pity party for the next couple of minutes.”

  “Save your tears for the pillow.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “This isn’t an episode of Dance Moms.”

  But Tink was right. Not like I was going to tell him that, especially when I was still considering doing minor bodily harm to him. I needed to pull it together. I had no other choice. Leaving wasn’t an option. I controlled the whole baby-making aspect and there was no way I was willingly going to knock boots with that freak. I needed to get it together, because the only choice I had now was to stop the prince.

  Stop the prince and make sure no that one, including Ren, found out what I was. I shivered. A question floated through my crowded thoughts, pushing everything out of my mind.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What?” Tink asked.

  “How . . . how am I a halfling?” I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t remember my parents, but Ren said he checked into them. He said they were in love. How could this have happened?”

  Tink didn’t answer.

  He didn’t know. Probably no one would ever know the truth. Anything was possible. My mother might’ve slept with a fae. Or maybe it was like Noah’s father. He’d met a fae woman and had gotten her pregnant before he met the woman he ended up marrying. I just couldn’t imagine how anyone who knew what the fae were could knowingly sleep with one.

  I exhaled shakily and thought that maybe I would expel all my tears onto my pillow. I sort of just wanted to roll over and let it all out. Actually, I honestly didn’t want to think about any of it, but that was impossible.

  “You need to let him go,” Tink said quietly.

  I turned my head to him. “What?”

  “Ren. You need to let him go. Push him away. Break up with him. Whatever. You need to get as far away from him as possible.”

  I stiffened and my response was immediate. “No.”

  “Ivy—”

  “No,” I repeated, waving my left hand. “End of discussion.”

  Tink stared at me mutinously, but he shut up. I knew that letting Ren go and pushing him away would be the smart and right thing to do in case things went south, but I couldn’t bring myself to even consider that. That probably said really bad things about me.

  Okay. It definitely said really bad things about me.

  But I had just found Ren. I’d fallen underwater, completely over my head, for him, with him, and I couldn’t do it. I was too selfish. He was . . . he was mine, and I’d be damned if I lost that too due to things completely out of my control. It wasn’t fair. I . . . I deserved him.

  “Fine,” Tink muttered finally.

  Lying there for a few moments, I gathered what remained of my composure like it was a tattered blanket, wrapped it around me, and sat up, wincing. “I need to shower.”

  “Thank Queen Mab!” Tink buzzed to the foot of the bed, giving me room. “You were starting to get a bit rank.”

  I shot him a dark look as I rose.

  “And your hair looks like I could cook French fries in it.” He twirled in the air and what was left of the powdered sugar hit my face. “It’s that greasy.”

  My shoulders slumped as I shuffled to the bathroom. “Thanks,” I said, pushing open the door.

  Suddenly Tink was right in front of my face, causing me to jerk back. “I know you’re mad at me and you probably want to slice and dice me up and wear my skin as a new bracelet.”

  I glanced around. “Um. That’s not exactly what I want to do.”

  Hope widened his eyes.

  “But I kind of want to flush you down a toilet,” I amended.

  He gasped. “I’d get stuck! And these pipes are old. How would you even do that? I’m not a goldfish.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Tink swayed and then shot forward, placing his tiny hands on my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  Blinking, I tried to remember if Tink had ever apologized for anything. Not even when he knocked my laptop off the balcony when he’d decided he wanted to watch Harry Potter outside. Or when he caught the stove on fire and then tried to put it out with my favorite blanket. Or when he . . . Well, there were a lot of examples of when he should’ve apologized but hadn’t.

  “You might not believe this, but I didn’t stay with you because of what you are.” His pale Otherworld eyes met mine. “I stayed because I like you, Ivy. I stayed because I care about you.”

  Oh gosh.

  My lips parted, and that messy knot of emotion ballooned in my throat. I wanted to cry again. I was such a mess, a hot and stinky mess.

  Tink grinned and his eyes glimmered. “And, okay, I also stayed because you have the magical and wonderful Amazon Prime.”

  Chapter Two

  Exhausted physically, mentally, and most definitely emotionally, all I managed to do was pull on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top after my much-needed shower. There was no way I was going to have the energy or even the desire to dry the mass of wet curls on my head, so I twisted them up and shoved a thick bobby pin into my hair.

  I roamed back out into the living room around eleven. The entire time I was showering I fought down a hot mess of emotion and locked it away and threw away the key. Well, to be honest, I probably only lost the key to the Pandora’s box level of emotional breakdown, but I stayed in that shower until I was confident I could handle everything.

  I had to handle this.

  I walked into the kitchen, noticing that Tink’s bedroom door was cracked open and the room was dark inside, but I doubted he was actually asleep. Stomach grumbling, I headed for the carryout container Ren had showed up with earlier. Mentally crossing my fingers, I flicked open the lid and sighed.

  There was one beignet left.

  One.

  Shooting Tink’s door a glare, I snatched a paper towel off the counter and scooped up the piece of sugary heaven. Then I grabbed a root beer out of the fridge and the can of Pringles out of the cupboard.

  Healthy eating at its finest, but I figured I deserved it.

  Back in the living room, I eased down on the couch and turned on the TV. Settling on a show about child geniuses, I did the whole hand to mouth thing, getting more sugar and potato-chip crumbs on my chest than in my mouth while I got way too engrossed in the TV. I was equally fascinated by how incredibly smart these kids were, and somewhat shamed because I had no idea what the capital of Tajikistan was when a ten year old did.

  I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew I felt the soft brush of fingertips coasting down the right side of my face. My eyes flickered open, and the first thing I saw was a powerful forearm covered with vines shaded in deep green. I followed that tattoo up to a dark-colored sleeve, knowing it formed the most amazing design under the shirt, and over a sexy throat. I never knew throats could be sexy, but they could be. Oh yes, they could be.

  Ren was sitting on the edge of the couch, and my heart did an unsteady flip as a horrible thought invaded my sleep-hazed consciousness. Would he be sitting here if he knew I was a halfling? I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course I knew the answer. He’d be as far away from me as humanly possible. Probably in a different time zone.

  “Hey.” Ren’s deep voice was sex on a stick. Good sex, too. Perfect sex. Mind-blowing sex. It was smooth like chocolate and cultured
. I really need to make my brain stop. “You okay?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I said, telling myself that I’d pulled it together earlier. I opened my eyes and saw that Ren was holding a Pringles can in his lap. “What are you doing with the chips?”

  A dimple appeared in his left cheek. The boy had a set of dimples that were absolutely kissable. And lickable. Actually, Ren’s entire face was all that and a bag of beignets. His jaw was like marble. His cheekbones were broad and high, and his nose was slightly hooked, as if it had been broken at some point, which was highly possible considering our line of work. His lips were full and expressive, and those eyes of his were absolutely stunning. Thick, dark lashes framed irises so green they looked like emeralds freshly picked from a mine.

  Ren was gorgeous, almost so attractive that he could compete against a fae in the looks department, and that was saying something, because the fae were extraordinarily beautiful in their glamoured and true forms—especially the latter. But Ren had them beat. Fae didn’t have an ounce of his warmth and humanity.

  “Chips?” he said, laughing as he held them up. He shook it. “How about an empty can?”

  I frowned. “I was hungry.”

  “You were cuddling the empty can.” A wayward curl fell across his forehead.

  My brows lifted. “Was not.”

  “Was too. You were holding it to your chest like it was a treasured possession. I had to pry it from your fingers.”

  “Well, I do like Pringles a lot.”

  “I can tell.” He leaned over, placing the can on the coffee table. The other dimple appeared as he eyed my chest, and I got all warm and fuzzy. “You have sugar and crumbs all over you.”

  Oh.

  The warm and fuzzy vanished. “I was hungry and tired.”

  Ren chuckled as he lowered his head, kissing the corner of my lip. Another wretched thought started to break free. Would he kiss me if he—I cut the thought off, and focused on a better one. I couldn’t wait until he could really kiss me again. A split lip sucked ass.

  He lifted his head. “Did that ass save you any of the beignets?”

  One of these days he might actually refer to Tink as something other than a body part. “One.”

  He cursed under his breath. “And it looks like your chest ate most of it.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, shifting onto my side so he had more room. He scooted in, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he angled his body toward mine. “What time is it?”

  “A little after two in the morning.” His lashes lowered as he dragged his finger along the neckline of my tank top. I shivered. “The streets were dead. No sign of the prince or any of the warrior knights that came through the gates. Saw a fae, but he disappeared on me near Royal.”

  I started to sit up, but his finger did another pass, this time skating down the center, between my breasts. It was hard to concentrate on important things when he was touching me, but I managed. “Something is going on. I don’t understand why they’d be lying low like this, especially after busting the prince free.”

  “They’re probably trying to stay alive.” More fingers got involved as he coasted them carefully over my bruised side and still achy ribs. “After all, they’re probably focused on finding the halfling.”

  My breath caught.

  He moved his hand away as his eyes flew to mine. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” I swallowed hard as I pushed up into a sitting position and leaned against the arm of the couch. I curled the palm I’d sliced open into a fist, hiding the wound. Though I was a mess all over, I doubted he’d notice it. “Did you see David tonight?”

  His eyes searched my face. “Only for a bit at headquarters. He was busy getting the new members sorted.”

  “How many did we get?” We’d lost sixteen the night the fae opened the gate to the Otherworld at the LaLaurie house—the night my best friend, my closest friend, had betrayed us.

  “Five for now, I think.” He leaned over, resting his weight on his arm and his cheek against his fist. “He said that he’s trying to pull more in from Georgia or something. While he was in the middle of yelling at someone on the phone and yelling at the new members, he asked about you.”

  Surprise hit me. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Wants to know if you’re still planning to come in tomorrow. I told him I thought you could use a few more days.”

  Twelve hours ago I would’ve pitched an absolute bitch fest at the suggestion, but after what I’d recently discovered, I wasn’t sure about returning tomorrow. “I don’t know if I’ll be . . . ready.”

  “I think you need to take a couple more days.” He reached over with his free hand and picked up a dry curl. “David agrees. You’ve come a long way in a week, but sweetness, you . . .” He stopped as he stretched out the curl and then let it go. It snapped back into place. “You were hurt bad. I don’t want you on the street until you’re at a hundred percent.”

  My gaze drifted to my closed hand. I wasn’t sure I’d be a hundred percent anytime soon. Physically? Yes. Everything else? Ha.

  “Hey.” Two fingers curled under my chin and lifted my head. His eyes were bright and beautiful. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “Then let’s hit the bed.”

  I didn’t protest as Ren rose and picked up my hand, gently hauling my butt off the couch. He led me toward the bedroom door and I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Tink peeking around the corner, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was surprised that he was missing a prime opportunity to annoy Ren.

  I climbed into the bed and got settled on my side—because now I had my own side, the left side, and Ren had the right side since he’d been staying with me each night for the past week. I watched him strip down. It was a show I didn’t want to ever miss, no matter what was going on in my head or with my body.

  Ren always started with his shirt, and he took it off in a way that I found fascinating. He reached behind him, grabbing the fabric at the nape of his neck and tugging it off over his head. I don’t know what it was about that, but it made all the lady bits stand up and take notice.

  So did his abs and pecs.

  Because our job required us to go toe to toe with a creature that could punt kick you like a football, we had to stay in shape, but I had a feeling that his flawless six-pack and defined chest had been some kind of gift from God. As were those amazing indents on either side of his lean hips. They were so perfect they were almost indecent.

  Ren unhooked the band that circled his stomach, just below the chest, and got down to removing the daggers at his side. He placed them next to mine on the dresser. His and hers weapons were the way of romance in the Order. Then he kicked off his boots and two more stakes joined his stash. Then his socks came off.

  His chin was bent as his hands dropped to his tactical pants. A button come undone and down went the zipper. I clutched the bedspread, and he lifted his gaze. “You like what you see, don’t you?” he asked as he shucked off his pants.

  I nodded and then said, “Yes,” in case he doubted it.

  A slow smile graced his lips. “I like you watching me.”

  Ren sometimes went commando, and that was incredibly hot to think of. Today he had on tight black boxer briefs, and I could tell he really did like me watching. I could see the hard, thick ridge of that approval straining the material.

  My stomach dipped as he picked up his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair by the door. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. We obviously hadn’t done anything of the fun and naughty nature since last Wednesday, and we only had sex that Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Before then, we’d messed around, and it had been wonderful, but we hadn’t spent a lot of time together. And before Ren, there had only been Shaun and the one time. A burst of sadness lit up my chest at the thought of the boy I’d loved and lost three years ago. The pain was still
there, probably would always be there, but it was fading like I guessed . . . I guessed it was supposed to.

  But now there was Ren, and I refused to lose him, too.

  The bathroom door opened. Our relationship was still so new that a fine tremble coursed through my belly as he approached the bed.

  “So, I’m wondering about something,” he said, stopping at his side.

  I focused on his face. “What?”

  “Why are you clutching the blanket like it’s going to run away from you?”

  “Oh.” I let go of the blanket and scooted down onto my back. “I don’t know.”

  A half-grin appeared as he slipped under the covers. He turned off the lamp and rolled over onto his side, facing me. “You’re really weird tonight.”

  Oh dear. “No, I’m not.”

  He carefully placed his arm over my hips and shifted so the front of his body was pressed against mine. I tipped my head back and turned toward him. I couldn’t make out his features at all since I kept heavy curtains on my windows. The room was pitch black, but I could feel his gaze.

  And I could feel his hard length against my hip.

  I couldn’t help it. I immediately thought of him in this bed, moving over me and in me. An ache blossomed between my thighs. I shifted, wiggling my hips, and Ren let out a deep, rumbling sound. I moved again.

  His fingers splayed across my outer hip as he dipped his head, brushing his lips over my temple. “You moving like that is going to drive me crazy.”

  My toes curled. “We could, you know, do something about it.”

  He made that sound again, and I felt the tips of my breasts tingle. “Ivy, we’ve got to take things easy for a little bit.”

  “What?” I whispered, turning onto my side. I placed my hands on his chest. In the darkness, he kissed my forehead. “Do you not . . . want to?”

  The second I asked that question I wanted to kick myself in the face. What in the hell was wrong with me? I was a halfling. And admittedly, I was feeling a wee bit unsure about things, like, for example, should I even be coming onto him when I was this . . . this thing he was here to literally kill? Was I betraying him in a way, his—