Haven 5: Invincible

by Gabrielle Evans

  Elder Means doesn’t care for the Braddocks much. He disappeared the day I moved in.” He paused and frowned down at his toes. “And Layke has been suspiciously absent lately.” He wondered what the other elder was up to, but figured he’d find out sooner or later without too much digging on his part. It wasn’t like he didn’t already have enough shit to deal with.

  Washed, rinsed, and dried, Torren wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into his bedroom right as Wren came bursting through the door.

  “Wren, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to knock.” He’d meant to sound stern, but he doubted he’d pulled it off well. The kid was just too damn cute standing there with his wide eyes and bright smile. From the moment Aslan had waltzed into his office and dropped Wren in his lap, Torren had lost his heart.

  “Sorry,” Wren answered, not looking it at all. “There’s a big doggy in the living room.” He held his arms wide to show off how big. Then he put his hand to his mouth and giggled. “He’s holding Uncle Lynk and licking him.”

  “Ah, shit.” Torren turned to his dresser but paused and looked over his shoulder at Wren. “Don’t repeat that.” Wren giggled again and bobbed his head up and down obediently.

  Aslan waltzed out of the bathroom with his own towel wrapped around him and beamed when he saw Wren. “What are you doing here, little monster?”

  “Big doggy!” Wren repeated as he bounced a little where he stood.

  Aslan arched an eyebrow at Torren and shook his head. “You handle that. I’ll get Wren ready for bed.”

  “I want to pet the doggy.” Wren pouted, his little lip sticking out and trembling pathetically.

  Torren had no idea who was in his living room, but he wasn’t letting Wren near them. “What if we get you your own puppy?” he found himself asking. God, he was such a pushover. One little quiver of that pink lip and he was putty in the kid’s hands.

  “Yay!” Wren clapped his hands together and darted from the room.

  “I’ve got him.” Aslan threw on a pair of sweats and chased after the tiny pixie. He did pause at the door, however, and threw Torren a wink over his shoulder. “I want a puppy, too.”

  “Okay.” What the fuck? Before he could recall the words, Aslan had disappeared, his laughter ringing down the hallway. Torren just hung his head and sighed. “I am so screwed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aslan hurried down the hall to the living room to find out what all the commotion was about. “What’s going on?” Raith had Wren perched on his hip and was laughing so hard he could barely breathe as he pointed across the room.

  A huge, russet-colored werewolf held Lynk in his arms while he licked up the side of his neck and rumbled in what Aslan hoped was approval. Lynk didn’t look to be a willing participant as he struggled against the wolf’s hold, hurtling every insult under the sun at him.

  Bannon stood off to the side, shaking with his own amusement as Galen danced around the werewolf, swatting him with a rolled up newspaper.

  “Put him down,” Galen ordered, stomping his foot. “Right now, Kieran. I mean it!” He whacked the wolf on the nose again. “Now!” Kieran looked up and huffed at him before going back to nuzzling and licking at Lynk. Bannon roared with laughter, Raith had turned a brilliant shade of red, and even Wren was giggling madly.

  “Let me go, you stupid, overgrown, idiotic fur ball!” Lynk jerked one way and then the other. He kicked out, landing a solid blow to Kieran’s knee, but the beast didn’t even flinch.

  Aslan had a feeling that things were about to get ugly, though.

  “Raith, go put Wren down for the night. He can take a bath in the morning.”

  Still chuckling, the witch nodded and carried Wren off to get him ready for bed. Aslan had to admit that he was proud, though a little shocked, at how quickly the Braddock brothers had fallen into the routine of caring for the child.

  “What the hell is going on in here?” Torren roared, making Aslan jump as he swung around to look up at his mate.

  “Umm, I’m going to guess that Lynk is Kieran’s mate. And he doesn’t look like he’ll be letting go any time soon.” He was afraid Torren might choke at first. The man stared at his brother trapped in the arms of the wolf for a full minute before he doubled over in laughter. It was the first time Aslan had seen him really and truly laugh. It did funny things to his belly and made him feel all warm and mushy on the inside. His big, scary lover was utterly gorgeous when he laughed, and Aslan decided he was one lucky man.

  While Torren and Raith were giants compared to him, Lynk wasn’t much taller or wider than Aslan. Kieran in shifted form completely dwarfed the man as he held him in his furry arms and continued to stroke Lynk’s neck with his impossibly long tongue.

  “Kieran Delaney, I’m going to call your sister,” Galen threatened with his hands on his hips. When that didn’t work, he went to hit Kieran with the newspaper again. It was all very hilarious until he missed and caught Lynk on the shoulder instead.

  Aslan pressed himself flat against the wall and covered his ears with his hands as Kieran let out an ear-piercing roar. Setting Lynk on his feet, he pushed the man behind him and growled viciously at Galen. Bannon was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Galen up and jerking him away from the beast. Aslan slid down to the floor and trembled violently as all hell broke loose, sure that someone was going to get hurt before they got Kieran under control.

  “Oh, for the love of Christmas,” Lynk huffed. He marched right around Kieran to stand between him and Bannon and shoved him in the chest. “Would you knock it off already?” Aslan was about to beg Torren to intervene when Lynk did something he’d never have expected. He grabbed a hunk of fur on Kieran’s chest, jerked it roughly, and tilted his head to the side to expose his throat. “Just get it over with.”

  There was no pause, no confusion or awkward moment of indecision. Kieran jerked Lynk into his arms and struck hard and fast, embedding his canines in the smaller man’s neck. Lynk cried out, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. Aslan was still extremely grateful that Torren didn’t need to bite him, though. No matter that Lynk seemed to be enjoying himself, it didn’t look very pleasant to Aslan.

  Extracting his fangs and licking over his mating mark, Kieran began to shrink as he slowly returned to his human skin. When he had shifted fully, he reached up to cup Lynk’s cheek, wearing the sappiest grin on his face. All he got for his efforts was a right hook to the jaw, though.

  “Now go away,” Lynk said icily before spinning around and storming out of the room like an angry buffalo. Kieran just rubbed at his jaw with a perplexed expression on his face.

  “You aren’t even safe in your own home,” the cruel voice whispered in Aslan’s mind.

  “Maybe you should be going home now,” the female coaxed, her voice dripping with honey.

  “Yes, indeed. You have no use for these barbarians.” The other male voice sounded highly agitated, which wasn’t at all normal. “Did you see that beast almost make a meal out of your friend? What kind of ruffians are these? We must go at once.”

  “And your gallant knight didn’t even try to protect you.” This voice was new and made Aslan’s heart hammer as he trembled violently. “Why look at him now. He hasn’t even noticed you here on the floor. Perhaps it’s only your body he loves.” Aslan jumped and bit down on his tongue to cut off his yelp when invisible hands began caressing his chest and abs. “What a lovely body it is, too.” He brushed inconspicuously at his chest, trying to knock the nonexistent hand away. This new voice wasn’t as cold as the first, but just as inauspicious—just as ominous. “He doesn’t love you.

  Remember how he let you die? He will always put himself first, put his needs above yours. Remember.”

  Unsolicited memories assailed him, flashing through in his mind’s eye like highlights of a movie clip.

  The rain beat down on them as they were shoved unceremoniously to the sodden ground. The torrential downpour wasn’t enough to extinguish the flames tha
t engulfed their home, though.

  A baby’s cry rose up over the wail of the wind and the pounding of the rain. Aslan fought against his captors, struggling to get to his feet and to his child. A sudden backhand sent him flying sideways, face-first into a puddle of icy water.

  “Give us the Regelatis!” one of the men ordered. His hand fisted in Torren’s hair, jerking his head back on his shoulders. “Give it to us or he dies.” His head tilted unnecessarily toward Aslan.

  In the next instance a big hand grabbed his chin to yank his head up, and the cold tip of a blade pressed against his throat. Aslan ceased his struggles, begging Torren with his eyes to just give them what they wanted. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he was terrified of what they’d do to Addison.

  He could see it in his mate’s expression, feel it in the overwhelming guilt and sorrow that flowed from Torren and into him.

  Torren wasn’t going to give them the book.

  Coming out of his memory, Aslan felt like he was surfacing from a frigid lake as he sucked in deep breaths to his aching lungs. His chest felt heavy as though his heart was ripping in two, and unbidden tears pooled in his eyes.

  “Come home with us,” the new voice whispered to him, and Aslan recognized it as that of the man who’d carried Addison away in the storm. “We can protect you. Love you. We can give you what he can’t.”

  Unseen hands began stroking him again—along his throat, over his chest, up his arms. Ignoring the touches, Aslan lifted his head and looked across the room to find Torren and Kieran snarling in each other’s faces, standing so close that their noses almost touched.

  Off to the side, Galen was stroking Bannon’s chest, whispering to him and obviously trying to calm him. Aslan didn’t think it was really working, though. Bannon looked about two seconds away from launching himself at the werewolf.

  Their shouts, growls, and snarls all mingled together in a cacophony of noise that Aslan didn’t understand. He didn’t register any words, though he knew insults were flying between Torren and Kieran. Nothing made sense to him, and he was so tired.

  “Sleep, Aslan.” Invisible fingers stroked through his hair. “We can give you what you need.”

  Just as he was drifting off, a warm weight settled in his lap, and small hands squished his cheeks together. “I’m scared,” Wren whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. “Torren is very mad.” Those smoky, gray eyes were like a lifeline, wrapping around his heart and pulling him back from the void. Cradling the child to his chest, Aslan stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Yes, he is. Grownups get angry sometimes, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean that we would ever hurt you or that we don’t still love you.” Wren nodded and burrowed in closer, curling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on Aslan’s shoulder. “Can I sleep in your room?”

  “Tell him no.”

  “Of course you can. Do you want to get your piggy?” It was the ugliest damn pig that Aslan had ever seen, and he couldn’t fathom why Wren loved the thing so much, but whatever made the boy happy was fine by him.

  Wren nodded eagerly, his smile coming fast and easy.

  Getting his feet under him, Aslan started to stand, but sharp, sickening pain exploded in his temples, causing him to cry out as his back arched away from the wall. He had just enough presence of mind to tighten his arms around Wren to keep the child from being thrown to the floor, but it was a near thing.

  The pain subsided in his head, but before he could even catch his breath, it felt as though white-hot pokers were rammed through both of his sides. Aslan screamed again, throwing his head back against the wall and releasing Wren as sweat coated his entire body. He’d never felt anything so painful, and had serious doubts that he’d live through it.

  “I can make it all go away. Just let go. Come home, Aslan.” Wren climbed back up in his lap and slapped at his cheeks.

  “Aslan?” His sweet little voice was so full of concern.

  He wanted to answer the summons, but the nonexistent spears in his sides chose that moment to twist, and Aslan grinded his teeth together until he was sure they would shatter to keep from screaming again. If he did what the voice said, it could all stop. But at what price?

  Luckily, he didn’t get a chance to find out. Strong but gentle arms slid under him, lifting both him and Wren into Torren’s protective embrace. Those soft lips that were made for leisurely kissing brushed over his forehead, murmuring comforting words to him. Wren’s tiny hands landed on either side of Aslan’s face as he leaned up to mash their noses together.

  “You all better?”

  Though he didn’t think it was possible, Aslan found himself chuckling quietly. “Yeah, little man. I’m all better now.” Wren wrinkled his nose adorably and nodded once as he petted Aslan’s cheek like he would a cat or a puppy. “Do you want a Band-Aid?”

  Torren’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled them closer to his heart and started walking down the hallway. Kieran’s angry voice drew him to a stop, though, and Aslan squeezed his eyes closed, praying the idiot would just go away.

  “I’m not finished talking to you.”

  “Well, I am finished. We can talk later.”

  “Torren, this is important. I need your help on this!”

  Torren growled under his breath. “Then I suggest you call a repairman, because my give-a-damn is busted. Fix your own mess, Kieran.” Then he turned back and left the man sputtering behind them as he carried them to their bedroom.

  “Aslan said I get to sleep here.” Wren lifted his head and pointed at the big king-size bed. His expression held a hint of stubbornness, but Aslan knew he’d relent without argument if Torren said no.

  Of course, Torren had no resistance to the little imp. “Do you want me to get Mr. Pokey?” What a ridiculous name for a stuffed pig, but Wren had refused to rename him.

  “Please?”

  Torren winked and settled them both in bed, waiting for them to get comfortable before he pulled the blankets up around their shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

  Aslan sighed in contentment when Wren snuggled up to his chest and rested his little hand on the side of Aslan’s neck. The boy’s next words brought a hitch to his breathing and tears to his eyes. “I love you,” Wren whispered around a yawn as though it was no big deal at all.

  “I love you, too,” Aslan returned, trying to be just as nonchalant, but thinking he probably didn’t pull it off very well.

  Wren was almost asleep when Torren returned, but he blinked open his eyes and patted the mattress behind him, indicating that was where Torren should sleep. With a gentle smile, Torren held up one finger before he grabbed a pair of sleep pants and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Finally dressed for bed, he crawled under the blankets and draped an arm over Wren to rest on Aslan’s hip. “You okay, baby?” Feeling the warm weight of his mate’s hand on him and listening to Wren’s soft snoring, Aslan reached over and skimmed his finger down the slope of Torren’s nose. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  Torren looked concerned, but he simply bobbed his head and nestled down on his pillow. “I love you, caro. ” It was the first time that he had said it directly, and chasing quickly behind Wren’s declaration, Aslan wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The two were trying to kill him. So, he did what anyone would do in his place. He grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “I love you, too.”

  His heart full to overflowing, Aslan closed his eyes and joined Wren in a peaceful sleep—the stuffed pig, Mr. Pokey, forgotten at the foot of the bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Waiting until he was sure Aslan was fast asleep, Torren eased out of bed and stood, just staring down at the two people who had become his entire world in a very short amount of time. They hadn’t talked about it at length, but Torren knew how much Aslan loved the little boy in his arms. His own heart melted into a liquid puddle every time Wren smiled at him.

  After hearing the pixie’s accounts of his parents, Torren
knew he’d fight tooth and nail to keep Wren from having to go back there.

  With any luck, maybe he could get some information from the pack alpha they’d rescued Wren from. Hopefully, it would be enough to press charges against a certain Mr. Reeves.

  What would become of Wren after that, though? Was The Council house an appropriate place for the little one to grow up? After the stunt Kieran had pulled in the living room, Torren had his doubts.

  Still, something ached in his chest at the thought of giving up Wren.

  While he’d tried to remain impervious to the child’s charms, he had failed miserably. The minute he’d been plopped down in Torren’s lap, Wren had offered a sweet smile, traced the tattoo on Torren’s forearm, and admonished him for drawing on himself. Torren fell in love instantly.

  Wishing he could stay in bed but knowing he had important business to attend to, he scrubbed at his face and bit back a sigh of longing. Not willing to risk waking either of his sleepyheads, he tiptoed from the room dressed only in his sleep pants, and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Entering the living room, he was pleased to see that someone had at least found Kieran some clothes. While nudity was a common occurrence amongst shifters and weres—and apparently didn’t bother them in the least—Torren wasn’t fond of naked men running about his house with Aslan and Wren there.

  “How is Aslan?” Galen asked the minute he saw him. He fidgeted nervously, his eyes shining with desperation for news about his friend.

  “He and Wren are sleeping. He seems okay, but I’ll talk to him more when he wakes up.” Torren had been holding back, not wanting to frighten Aslan, but after the episode earlier, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The voices had been quiet for the last few days, but obviously, they were back with a vengeance.

  “You need to tell him,” Raith said from the sofa.