“Sorry,” Raven answered, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “No can do.”
“Not happening,” Demos agreed. “What the hell is an Infinity? ” Torren tensed in his arms, and his head whipped around to pin Raith with his dark gaze. Very slowly, his attention returned to Aslan, staring at him as though he’d never seen him before. Aslan frowned.
“Do I have something on my face?” Crap, maybe he was getting a zit.
That would really suck.
“It can’t be,” Torren whispered. “I…I…”
“Stop fighting it, brother.” Raith shuffled closer to them, but kept a respectful distance. “Let go and feel it.” Aslan didn’t know what the hell was going on, but the two witches were starting to make him nervous. “What’s he talking about?” he demanded of his mate. “What are you fighting? What are you supposed to feel?” He began struggling, trying to free himself from Torren’s arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Torren’s arms tightened, preventing his escape. “Aslan, calm down.”
Instantly, Aslan went completely still, and the anxiety that had threatened to overwhelm him vanished, replaced by a deep sense of peace and contentment. “How did you do that?” he breathed in awe.
Instead of answering, Torren stared into his eyes unblinkingly, and Aslan couldn’t help but stare back. As he watched, he could have sworn that a soft, shimmering light flickered in the gold specks around Torren’s pupils. Looking deeper, losing himself in those endless pools of onyx, Aslan felt as though he’d known Torren for not just his entire life, but for lifetimes before that.
The moment stretched on, and suddenly, he found himself getting angry. He didn’t know where the agitation came from, but it was there all the same. Without conscious decision to do so, he heard himself saying, “You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Torren Braddock.” Torren growled, grabbed the back of Aslan’s neck, and crushed their mouths together in a kiss that lit Aslan up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It was hard, hungry, demanding, and possessive, consuming him until his world tilted on its axis and ceased to spin, holding them motionless in this one perfect moment of time.
“No!” a voice roared inside his head, making him jump. “Leave! Make him leave!”
“Fight it, caro,” Torren panted against his lips. “You’re stronger than he is. Silence him.”
It wasn’t easy, and the voice didn’t completely disappear, but Aslan was able to mute it until it was barely more than a dull whisper.
It was draining, however, as though he’d turned the volume down on the radio but had to fight against the dial to keep it in place.
“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Stavion bit out, obviously unhappy about his lack of knowledge.
Well, he could just join the goddamn club, because Aslan didn’t have a clue, either. Something was different. Something had changed inside Torren, and Aslan’s entire body yearned for the man. “Yeah, okay,” he finally said with a heartfelt sigh. “I’d like to know what’s going on as well.”
Torren smirked at him and kissed the tip of his nose. “Let me tell you a story.”
“Does it start with ‘once upon a time’?” With a sly wink, Torren set him on his feet and nodded. “Actually, it does.”
* * * *
Since Aslan’s friends had wanted to be included in the conversation, they ended up moving their meeting to the spacious library. Torren didn’t really care where they went as long as Aslan remained close enough to touch.
Watching his mate chattering away with his friends, Torren smiled and relaxed back into one of the armchairs. The man was so full of life, babbling excitedly as he waved his hands around in animated movements. His smile could light the darkest well, paling the sun in comparison. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.
“You’ve got it bad,” Raven teased him as he flopped down into the chair beside him. “I really wish you could see the dopey look on your face right now.”
“I’ve waited a long time for him.”
“Okay, everyone zip it,” Stavion ordered, settling onto the sofa and calling for Jory to join him.
The Enforcers found seats as well, those with their own mates motioning their men to them. Torren couldn’t have been more pleased when Aslan bounced across the room, climbed right up into his lap, and curled against his chest. “Okay, love, let’s hear it.”
“Whatever we tell you does not leave this room,” Raith began from where he was leaning against the desk at the front of their group. “Not only is it extremely personal, but it could be very dangerous for Aslan and Torren.”
Everyone nodded their understanding and gave verbal vows that they’d not do anything to endanger the lives of their friends. Torren was a little shocked to be counted as a friend amongst the Enforcers, but he found it sparked a flame of warmth inside his chest as well.
Nodding at his brother, Torren gave his silent approval for Raith to begin the story as it had been told to them when they were young.
“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away.” Raith stopped and winked at Aslan, sending him into a fit of adorable laughter.
Torren picked up the square box of tissues on the table beside him and sent it sailing toward his brother’s head. “Stop flirting with my mate and get on with it, asshole.”
Raith just laughed as he caught the box and placed it on the desk behind him. “Fine, I’ll skip the history lesson and get to the point. In the early fifteen hundreds the Book of the Banished was used to call forth an army of the dead. War ensued. People died. You get the idea.”
They all nodded, though Torren had to fight the urge to groan.
Obviously, his brother was not the most skilled storyteller, but at least he was hitting the main points.
“Well, short story shorter, a circle of thirteen witches was able to cast the souls back into Purgatory where they belonged. Too dangerous in the wrong hands, the book had to be destroyed.”
“Only, when the circle attempted to destroy it, the curse rebounded,” Torren said, taking over the story. “The legend goes that the thirteen fell to their knees and cried out to the heavens as their souls were ripped in two and one half was lost to the universe.”
“That’s horrible,” Aslan whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Were those your ancestors?”
“I’m getting to that part.” He offered his mate a soft smile and pecked his forehead before returning to the story. “Bound in wolf skin and animated by the cursed blood of a vampire, the book sought to bind itself with the closest living soul in a bid for survival.”
“That’s what happened to Camdin.” Galen nodded thoughtfully while he slapped at Bannon’s wandering hand where it snaked up the inside of his thigh. “Would you knock it off?” It was kind of comical the way Bannon huffed and pouted as he sunk back into the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. Galen just rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, so that’s how Camdin essentially became the book, right?”
“That’s right.” There was a little more to the story about the faerie and his curse, but that part wasn’t for Torren to tell. “Anyway, the circle sealed the book within Camdin so that only one of the thirteen could open it.”
“So, is it your bloodline?” Cassius asked. “Is that how you’re able to open the book?”
Here came the tricky part. Luckily for Torren, Raith took up where he’d left off without having to be asked.
“While Camdin is physically bound to the Book of the Banished, the circle was bound spiritually. They would never die, because the minute one body stopped breathing, another was born.”
“Like reincarnation?”
Raith nodded at the Enforcer. “Something like that. Call it whatever you like.”
“Okay, so what does any of this have to do with Torren and Aslan?” Jory asked from his perch on the arm of Stavion’s chair.
“The fates smiled upon the circle for their sacrifice and gave homes to the torn pieces of their souls.”
Torren looked down at the man in his lap and had to swallow around the lump in his throat.
“While shifters, weres, vampires, and whatever have fated mates who complete them, a witch’s Infinity is literally their missing half.”
“Torren and Aslan are Twin Flames,” Raith explained. “They are two bodies that share one soul.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Galen jumped up and started waving his hands around to get everyone’s attention. “You”—He pointed right at Torren—“are one of the thirteen that originally sealed the book?”
“We all are,” Raith answered before Torren had the chance. “It is exceedingly rare for all thirteen to be born to the same family. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever happened before.”
“But your dad died fifteen years ago.” Kendall sat up a little straighter and frowned, obviously having trouble deciding how to word his question.
Torren understood, though, and took pity on the pixie. “My stepmother gave birth to our youngest brother, Indo, the night our father was executed.”
Galen’s mouth dropped open. “He’s only fifteen! Where is he? How could you just send him off on his own?” How strange that Galen would be concerned for someone he’d never met. Still, there was no need for the alarm. “He’s safe.” The kid had no idea who he was or who any of his siblings were, but he was safe.
Jory tilted his head, his blond hair falling over one shoulder as he wrinkled his nose. “You have a daddy brother. That’s gross.”
“Well, when you say it like that,” Raith said with a mock shudder.
“Since I’m forty years older than Indo, I’m pretty sure he’s just my kid brother. Witches don’t really think in those terms, though. The reincarnation thing is weird, but Indo is very much my sibling and not my father.”
“How old are you?”
Torren realized it was the first thing Aslan had said in a while.
“Sixty-two,” he said cautiously. “The original circle doesn’t die from disease or old age, but we can be killed by other means.” Nice going, jackass, he chided himself when Aslan’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. Why couldn’t he have just answered with his age and left it at that?
“Are we done now?”
Without even checking with the others, Torren stood from his seat, lifting Aslan easily and cradling him in his arms. “Where would you like to go?”
“You know I can walk, right?”
Torren shrugged. “Yeah, so?” He knew Aslan wasn’t a child or an invalid, but he just liked having the man in his arms. He couldn’t remember their previous lives together, doubted his mate even understood what it all meant, but he definitely felt the connection. It was also an enormous relief to finally understand why he was acting like such a crazy person.
With a snort, Aslan shook his head and wrapped his arms around Torren’s neck. “You have a lot of explaining to do, so we should probably get something to eat first.” He pointed toward the door and clucked his tongue. “To the kitchen!”
Chapter Seven
The story had been interesting, but Aslan hadn’t understood a great portion of it. Since everyone else seemed to have been following along, he hadn’t wanted to look like an idiot. So he’d kept his mouth shut and hoped that Torren would explain it to him when they were alone.
After storming into the kitchen and ordering everyone out like he owned the place, Torren had provided that alone time in grand fashion. “That was really rude,” Aslan chastised his mate. “They were just doing their jobs.”
“You looked like you needed to talk, and I didn’t think you’d want an audience.” He was completely unrepentant about his behavior as he began pulling things out of the refrigerator to make them sandwiches. “Go ahead and ask me anything. I have no secrets from you.”
“How come you don’t look that old?” As far as he knew, witches were not immortal. Yet Torren said he couldn’t die of old age.
“Why do you bother asking questions? You’ll never understand it.”
Taking a deep breath, Aslan did his best to push the voice away and ignore it. Now was not the time for him to be distracted.
“It’s part of the curse,” Torren answered without turning away from the counter. “Our bodies stop aging when we reach however old we were at the time our souls were split. I was twenty-six. What else would you like to know?”
Hoping Torren wouldn’t think he was a complete moron, Aslan blurted the most pressing issue on his mind. “I didn’t understand a word about this Twin Flames thing.” He didn’t even know where to start asking questions, either. None of it made sense to him. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was clueless.
“Well, of course you are.”
Aslan didn’t even bother putting up a fight with the cold, heartless voice. What would be the point? “I’m sorry,” he said to Torren. “I don’t mean to be so stu—”
He cut off abruptly when Torren growled and slammed the mustard down on the counter with enough force to crack the bottom of the plastic bottle. Then he was across the kitchen and in Aslan’s face before he even knew what was happening.
“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. Am I understood?” His eyes flashed fire, and heat rolled off of him in waves.
Aslan swallowed hard. His pulse tripped into overdrive, his palms began to sweat, and every muscle in his body quivered with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t afraid of the giant towering over him, but something inside him responded to the steel-laced command in Torren’s tone—something connected straight to his cock.
“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, trying like hell to keep from panting. “I understand.”
Torren’s eyes softened, and he caressed the side of Aslan’s face with his fingertips. “Better.”
Shivering in delight from his mate’s touch and the fact that he’d pleased the man, Aslan wrapped his fingers around Torren’s wrist and pressed his face into the huge, soft palm, nuzzling his cheek against it.
He loved that Torren was so much bigger than him. It made him feel safe and protected, as though nothing in the world could hurt him while he was surrounded by Torren’s strength.
“I’ve really missed you.” It was a strange feeling, but he felt it all the same—like part of him had disappeared and only now returned. “I don’t understand any of this.” His eyes popped open wide when Torren growled at him. What had he done wrong now? “Torren?”
“Maybe I should have qualified my statement earlier. I never want to hear you talk about yourself in a negative way, and I don’t want to feel it, either. This is a lot, Aslan. Anyone would be spinning from all of it right now. Just because you don’t understand, it does not make you less intelligent than anyone else.” It should have occurred to him that if he could feel Torren’s emotions, then the same would be true in reverse. He couldn’t help how he felt, though. What did the man want from him? He’d promised that he wouldn’t speak his concerns aloud. That’s the best he could do, though.
As though reading his mind, Torren sighed, scooped Aslan into his arms, and settled him in his lap as he sat in Aslan’s now-vacated seat. “Now, you listen to me, Aslan…” He trailed off and frowned. “I don’t even know your last name.”
Aslan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I stopped using it when my parents sold me to that vampire coven.”
“When was this?”
“A couple of years ago, I guess. I was sixteen.” Torren’s face took on a pinched look and his eyes creased in the corners. “Please tell me that you’re eighteen.” He sounded choked and maybe even a little sick.
Rolling his eyes, Aslan leaned forward and pressed their lips together as he straddled Torren’s massive thighs. “I’ll be twenty next month.”
To his surprise, Torren closed his eyes and groaned. “So young,” he whispered as though it was painful for him to speak the words.
Deciding that line of thinking had gone far enough, he reached between their bodies and pressed his palm to Torren’s zipper, giving his soft coc
k a nice, gentle squeeze. “Not that young,” he said in what he hoped was a seductive purr.
He guessed he’d gotten it right when Torren’s eyes popped open, blazing with unhidden lust.
“You know what they say about playing with fire, baby.”
Grinning mischievously, Aslan leaned forward again, tickling the seam of Torren’s lips with his tongue, coaxing the man to open for him. “No, but I hope it means I’m going to get a blow job in the kitchen.”
Torren’s breathy chuckle parted his plump lips, and Aslan took full advantage, sweeping his tongue inside his mate’s mouth. It was hard to tell who groaned louder when their tongues met and twined, but it didn’t really matter. Winding one arm around his waist, Torren fisted his other hand in Aslan’s short hair, holding him still so he could take the kiss deeper.
Content to submit to his mate’s dominance, Aslan relaxed his body, melting against Torren’s chest and moaning softly at the intense pleasure that seemed to burn him from the inside out. Drowning in the taste of his mate, reality warped, turning him upside down so that when he finally came up for air it was to find himself sans his shirt.
The button on his jeans popped open with a skilled twist of Torren’s long fingers. His zipper followed quickly as his cock swelled and strained, pressing against the soft denim in its bid for freedom.
Torren’s quiet, growling moan filled his mouth as his soon-to-be lover extracted his aching dick and stroked it lightly from base to helmet. The act felt familiar, as though they’d done it a thousand times before, and Aslan jerked in Torren’s embrace, flexing his hips so that his length slid through his mate’s fist.
“More,” he begged, clutching at the fabric of Torren’s sweater and dragging it over his head, needing to feel the hot, hard muscles beneath his palms.
Instead of heeding his plea, Torren released his cock, jerked Aslan’s head back on his shoulders, and attacked the sensitive skin along his throat while he lifted him onto the table. Following him up, Torren kept one arm around his waist, holding him in an inclined position and placing himself between Aslan’s knees.
Haven 5: Invincible Page 6