Haven 5: Invincible

by Gabrielle Evans

  Very gently, Torren eased him back on the table and kissed a slow path down Aslan’s chest, leaving a trail of liquid heat in his wake. His tongue swirled around Aslan’s navel and dipped inside while he worked Aslan’s jeans off his legs and tossed them to the floor.

  Sitting back in his chair, he gripped Aslan’s calves and pulled him forward, sliding him to the edge of the table. “Spread your legs, baby.”

  Shivering and panting, he did as instructed, looping his elbows under his knees and opening himself to his lover’s gaze. The new position made him feel exposed and vulnerable, but when Torren hummed in approval, the anxiety ebbed just as quickly as it had come.

  Two thick fingers traced his bottom lip then tapped at it. Opening instantly, Aslan captured Torren’s digits in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and sucking hard. His back bowed and a strangled moan rose up from his chest when his mate palmed his heavy erection once more, squeezing it in rhythmic movements that made his asshole clench greedily.

  “That’s it,” Torren praised him. “Get them good and wet.” His soft hair tickled the inside of Aslan’s thighs just before incredible moist heat surrounded the head of his cock. Torren swirled his tongue around the crown then flicked at the bundle of nerves just under the ridge, sending Aslan into a tailspin of need.

  Sucking harder on his lover’s fingers, Aslan rocked as much as his position would allow, driving his throbbing dick deeper into Torren’s welcoming mouth. Wading through his blinding lust, an errant thought slipped into his muddled brain, reminding him not to thrust too deeply. Torren had a horrible gag reflex.

  Confusion cooled some of his ardor. How the hell did he know that?

  Then it all ceased to matter when Torren’s fingers slid from his mouth and pressed against his fluttering hole, ringing the muscles with gentle but steady pressure. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, Aslan still couldn’t stop his gasp when those spit-soaked digits pushed into his clenching channel and began pumping lazily.

  The burn was minimal, the pressure intense, and the pleasure mind numbing. His lover’s free hand gripped the base of his cock, sliding and twisting in an upward spiral until his fist met his lips.

  Over and over, Torren worked the rigid flesh in his mouth, moaning and growling while he continued stretching Aslan’s entrance.

  Jerking and spasming, Aslan made sounds he’d never heard issue from his own lips before. When the next inward glide sent Torren’s fingers brushing over his prostate, Aslan squeezed his eyes closed, arched his back, and shouted to the ceiling.

  While Torren’s hand kept stroking him, his mouth disappeared, leaving the torrent of warm cum spurting from Aslan’s cock to splash over his belly. Coming down from his orgasmic high, his body still quaking in aftershocks, Aslan peered down between his legs to see a very self-satisfied smirk on his lover’s ruggedly handsome face.

  Releasing Aslan’s still-hard cock and easing his fingers from his hole, Torren pushed his khakis off his hips, scooped the cooling cum from Aslan’s belly, and used it to slick his engorged shaft. Renewed desire slammed into Aslan, and he licked his dry lips while his cock throbbed painfully as though he hadn’t just had the orgasm of his life.

  The confident grin on Torren’s face was wickedly arousing as he lifted his hand and crooked one finger. “Come here, caro.” Apparently, he didn’t move fast enough, because in the next instant, he was hauled into Torren’s lap, the thick head of his lover’s cock poised at his opening. Their mouths crashed together, carnal and savage while Aslan lowered himself over Torren’s length, feeling his inner walls strain to accept his mate’s thick girth.

  He was so full, completely filled, and it was heaven. The ache in his ass, his balls, and his pulsing dick combined and exploded into an inferno of all-consuming pleasure. Flames of erotic desire licked at his skin, crawling over his body and engulfing him in their passionate embrace.

  Instinct took over, and he began to rise and fall, flexing his thighs and bracing his hands on the table behind him as he impaled himself on Torren’s cock. His head fell back on his shoulders, a high keening noise ripping from his throat when his mate’s hands began roaming his chest and tugging at his pebbled nipples.

  Then those strong hands moved to his hips, grasping him firmly and encouraging him to move faster. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my cock.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging into Aslan’s flesh as he began thrusting upward, driving into Aslan’s ass in lightning-quick strokes.

  “Ahhh!” Aslan cried out, his pleasure spiking as he teetered on the edge of climax. “Torren!”

  “Yeah, scream, Aslan. Scream my name.” Torren yanked him forward, molding their chests together as his arms locked behind Aslan’s back. “Come for me,” Torren rasped in his ear. “Come on my cock. Milk me dry.”

  He whispered words that Aslan didn’t understand, but they sounded important, and suddenly it felt as though the sun itself had burst inside of him. Aslan screamed until his throat was raw and his head spun. Explosions wracked his body, tearing his release from him, and he coated Torren’s cobblestone abs with his heated seed.

  Floating somewhere above his body, he heard Torren’s roar as though from a great distance, felt the splash of his lover’s climax filling his depths, and then everything disappeared as he drifted into darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  Placing Aslan back on the table, Torren couldn’t stop his chuckle when his mate didn’t even twitch. Scrubbing himself first, he then wet a dishcloth with warm water and cleaned Aslan as best he could. It would at least be enough to get them back to the man’s room.

  Grabbing Aslan’s jeans off the floor, he looked between the denim and his lover. Tossing the pants to the side, he picked his own sweater up instead, tugged it over Aslan’s head, and pulled it down his body to hide all of his bits and pieces.

  He’d just finished buttoning his own pants and lifting Aslan into his arms when his brother stepped into the kitchen with a knowing smirk on his face. “I’m going to guess the screaming we heard was a good thing this time.”

  “You’d guess correctly.” It was better than good. It was amazing.

  “Do you think he’ll be pissed?”

  Raith shrugged. “That you claimed him? I doubt it.” He stepped aside to allow Torren to exit the room and followed behind him as they climbed the stairs. “Do you remember anything yet?”

  “Bits and pieces.” It was more like a slow trickle, and he’d occasionally get a little flash of his previous lives with Aslan. They’d first met just a year after the battle between the Magiks had ended.

  The war wasn’t quite as over as they thought, though. Six months into their relationship, they were dragged from their beds and slain in the middle of the night.

  He’d found Aslan again in Salem Village in 1692—the year of the Salem Witch Trials. Again, it had ended in death for both of them just months after meeting. Then once more in 1854 they’d found their way together. And once more it had spelled tragedy less than a year later when a circle of witches had kidnapped Aslan and beheaded him.

  Torren had been so devastated over the loss that he’d taken his own life, unable to bear the passing days without his mate.

  It had been almost a hundred and sixty years since, and now that they were bonded, Torren felt each one of those years like a white-hot poker to his gut. None of that mattered, though. He had Aslan in his arms, and he’d be prepared this time. His past failures would not be repeated. No matter what he had to do, Aslan would be protected because he couldn’t lose him yet again.

  “This could get complicated,” Raith said quietly, leaning against the doorframe as Torren tucked Aslan into bed and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders.

  “How is that?” He wasn’t really listening, his full attention focused on the breathtaking man sleeping on the mattress.

  “You have responsibilities as an elder. He’s going to be a huge distraction for you. I can already tell that it’s been a long time since
you were together, and the need to always be close to him is going to consume you. War is coming, brother, and we need to be prepared.” Torren spun around and growled at Raith. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake? Do you really believe that I don’t know what’s coming? I’ll do my job, brother. He won’t be hurt again.” No matter what he’d tried to tell himself—and most of that he’d kept from everyone else—the war between his kind was already stirring. “We have to find the others.”

  Their best hope at winning rested in having the original circle reunited. Individually, they were strong. Together they were a force to be reckoned with.

  “Halloween is next week. There’s not enough time to find everyone,” Raith argued.

  Torren wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that, which was exactly why he’d sent Bannon to find Raith and Lynk in the first place. As the eldest three, they were the strongest. If their enemies chose to attack during the witching hour on Halloween, at least the coven was somewhat protected.

  “It will have to be enough. Nicholas McCarthy should be here before the meeting next week. He’s not very powerful and has spent most of his life hiding his gift. He’s still a witch and could be helpful, though.”

  “Raven told me what Aslan is,” Raith said just above a whisper.

  “If the other circles come…” He took a deep breath and pushed his black curls back from his face. “I think we need to reschedule the meeting. It’s too dangerous.”

  “We’ll leave when Aslan wakes up and discuss this when we get back to Casper.” His brother had legitimate concerns, but there were too many unknown factors for Torren to make a decision just then.

  He needed time to think, to consult with some of the other members of The Council, and then worry about what their next course of action should be. While he was responsible for the safety of the entirety of their world, his first and main concern was for the well-being of his mate.

  Raith didn’t look happy about being dismissed, but he nodded curtly and backed out of the open door. “I’ll be ready to leave when you are.”

  “Why are you always such a dick to everyone?” a sleepy voice asked from behind him.

  Turning and kneeling beside the bed, he smiled tenderly at his lover. “I’m not a dick to you.”

  Aslan rolled his eyes, but his lips stretched into a silly grin. “Let me get in the shower and pack a bag. I’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes.”

  “I think I should join you,” Torren replied seriously. “It would conserve water. Besides, you might need help reaching all the nooks and crannies to make sure they’re clean.”

  “How considerate of you.” Aslan gave him a teasing wink and pushed up on his elbow to deliver a blistering kiss to Torren’s lips.

  “Start the water. I’m right behind you.” No one needed to tell Torren twice. Now that he’d bound them and entwined their souls, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces, his heart was so full of warmth and love that he thought he’d burst with it. More memories assaulted him, crashing over him and soothing his frayed nerves.

  He wondered if it had been that way each time they were separated. The only memories he could remember from his previous lives involved Aslan, though, so he couldn’t be sure. All of his life—well, this life—he’d harbored trust and control issues, been emotionally stunted, detached, aloof, and reserved.

  While he hadn’t been a monk over the years, sex always left him feeling hollow and unfulfilled. For years he’d felt gutted, like he was only part of a man. There had always been something missing, and the depression that knowledge caused had slowly eaten away at him.

  Before he knew it, he’d become a cold, calculating, and unfeeling prick, pushing away everyone who had, did, or would ever care about him.

  With Aslan at his side, he finally felt whole. Making love to his mate was earth-shattering, yet it fed him emotionally as well. It was as though Aslan was the light to his darkness, the yin to his yang, and he complemented him so perfectly that he wasn’t sure where he ended and his lover began.

  No matter the sacrifices, he’d do anything to keep the feeling inside of him. Above all else, Aslan would be protected. No way would Torren allow them to be separated again. Ever.

  * * * *

  Arching his back, his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him while his head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. A thin coating of sweat covered his lover’s nude body, made his tan skin glisten in the soft flickering of the candlelight.

  Torren’s long, dark hair clung to his damp forehead and trailed down his defined shoulders. A rough five-o’clock shadow adorned his jaw while his eyes flashed with need, desire, and an untamed lust that made him look every bit the fierce warrior he was.

  The wind howled viciously outside their small home, battering against the window as though determined to break inside. Blue-white beams from the full moon filtered into their room, casting the corners into darkness but shining on them in its blessing.

  His mate’s body undulated between his splayed thighs, his hips rolling as his thick cock sank and retreated, surging into Aslan’s yielding body. Their gazes met and held, the pressure building, the passion soaring, and the storm raged on around them.

  Aslan didn’t fear a bit of rain, though. It was unmatched by the tempest his lover invoked within him. Shards of unmatched pleasure sliced through him, igniting his body and sending him hurling over the edge into free fall.

  Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle his groan of ecstasy, Aslan came in a blinding climax that stole his breath and muted his senses. Torren’s grunt of release was just as quiet, but no less satisfying as he pumped through his orgasm, filling Aslan’s depths with his seed.

  Tangled together, panting and shuddering, they clung to one another while their heart rates slowed, settling into a familiar synchronized rhythm. Soft, moist lips brushed over his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, and finally his mouth. Torren stroked his hair, his back, his hips, and every part of him he could reach.

  “Have I told you today how much I love you?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Aslan breathed. “But I never tire of hearing it.”

  “Then I love you more with each breath I take. Thank you for being mine.”

  But it was Aslan who was grateful. When Torren had found him, his life had been bleak at best. Until his mate had rescued him, he’d been an empty shell with no home and no one to call his own. Now, he had more love than he could possibly deserve, and each day he thanked whoever was listening out there in the universe that Torren had chosen him.

  They belonged together, though. He had vague recollections of their previous time together, and it only deepened his certainty that no matter the obstacles thrown before them, they would always find their way back to one another. Not even death could separate them forever.

  Just as he was debating climbing out from beneath the warmth of the blankets to clean up, loud banging sounded on their front door, followed by a multitude of angry voices. Aslan tensed, his eyes widened, and he looked to Torren for guidance.

  The banging grew loud, shaking the entire house, and suddenly an ear-splitting crash sounded from the front room and footsteps thundered across the hardwood floors.

  Torren hugged him close and kissed his forehead before pushing him away and springing up from the bed. “Go,” he directed.

  “You can’t fight them all,” Aslan argued, but he was already out of bed and pulling on his nightshirt. The footsteps were getting closer, almost to their door now. Opening the door that led to the adjoining room, Aslan cast a pleading look over his shoulder at his lover.

  “Come with us.”

  Their bedroom door exploded inward, and several large, menacing men advanced toward them. “Go!” Torren roared. “Take the baby and go!”

  Jerking upright in bed, Aslan felt the hot sting of tears as they slipped over his cheeks. A bubbling sob welled up in him, and before he could cut it off, it burst through his parted lips. His entire body shook and his hea
rt felt like it was being shredded inside his chest.

  Long, powerful arms wrapped gently around his waist, pulling him back against the solid wall of his lover’s chest. “Shh, baby. It was just a dream,” Torren murmured to him. “It was only a bad dream.” It wasn’t a dream, though. It was a memory. Aslan couldn’t remember which lifetime it was, what year, or even where they’d lived, but he felt it with a certainty that he had indeed lost his child and died in his mate’s arms that night. “We had a baby.” A precious little boy who had Torren’s raven hair and matching eyes. “His name was Addison.” How they’d come to have a child he couldn’t remember, but that wasn’t important just then.

  “My sister’s child,” Torren answered his unspoken question. “She had died in childbirth, so we took the infant in. I was scared to death and had no idea what I was doing, but you were amazing with him. My heart nearly exploded from my chest every time I watched you two together.”

  By the time he finished speaking, his voice was rough and hoarse, as though he forced words through a constriction in his throat.

  Wrapping his arms around his midsection, Aslan rocked back and forth, weeping for a child that he had lost so many years ago. The memory had been so real, so vivid. He’d remembered each detail of their room, the storm outside their window, and the all-encompassing love he’d felt for his family.

  When those men had beaten down their door, sheer terror gripped him in its iron clutches. Then they were dragged out onto their front lawn and forced to kneel on the sodden ground, and Aslan had known there was no hope. He’d watched his child carried away into the night, and his heart had ceased to beat. Though he was awake now, the gut-wrenching heartache wouldn’t leave him.

  In the four days since he’d arrived in Casper with his mate, his dreams had become more frequent and more realistic. Sometimes he’d even have flashes of their previous lives while awake, but it was rare and not nearly as richly detailed. Though they often left him shaken, he treasured each recollection because it confirmed what he’d known from the beginning.