Torn (Devils Wolves Book 1)

by Carian Cole

  You're where I always wanted to be.

  It was obvious he didn't want to say those words. But something inside him made him say it, like he had to say it, like they were eating at him, threatening him to let them out. The taboo of what could be hiding in the depths of him awakens a part of me that feels like it's been waiting, patiently, silently for him to come.

  Warmth starts in my stomach and spreads like a slow fire, down between my thighs, and up to my chest. My pulse speeds up as I watch him, my head becoming light.

  I can't think.

  I should be scared. I should recognize this as wrong. I should go inside.

  But I'm not, and I don't, and I can't, because he suddenly looks over at me and smiles, holding my lost penny up triumphantly like my eternal hero, and it chases all those doubts away, leaving the truth staring me right in the face.

  We are an us.

  8

  Tor

  Kenzi ~ age five

  Toren ~ age twenty

  My little sister leans over the princess-shaped cake with a big smile and blows out her seven candles. Mom's dining room is filled with people - my aunts, uncles, cousins and brothers and a few little kids from Tesla's class. It's been six months since my father passed away and this is the first I've seen most of the people in this room smile in a long time. Including myself.

  Tessie starts to open her presents, with Kenzi sitting at her side, taking the discarded wrapping paper from her and shoving it in a big garbage bag, always the little neat freak. I wink at her across the room, and she waves at me.

  "Tesla seems better," I say to my mom when I bring some plates into the kitchen to help her clean up.

  "She's doing much better, but she still cries at night sometimes. She misses him a lot."

  "I know," I agree softly. "We all do."

  I help her load the dishwasher. "We should be going soon. Sydni has a class in the morning, and I have to get Kenzi to kindergarten on time for once."

  "You two are babysitting again?" she asks, with a slight emphasis on the 'again'.

  "Yeah, just for a few days."

  "It's nice you and Sydni help out so much." She wipes her hands on a dish towel and folds it neatly before putting it back on the counter.

  "We don't mind. She's a good kid, like Tessie."

  "Toren..." she starts and then stops for a moment. "I'm going to ask you something, and I just want you to tell me the truth. I'm your mother, and I love you. I won't judge you."

  I raise my eyebrows and take a step back. "Whoa, Mom. That sounds heavy."

  "Is she yours?"

  I stare at her in shock, the smile fading from my face. "What?"

  "Just answer me. Is that my granddaughter in there?"

  "Fuck, Mom. Is that what you think?"

  "She looks like you..."

  "I look like him. Everyone says we look like brothers. Even you said it when we were young. We've always looked alike."

  She nods. "Yes...that's true."

  Her eyes bore into me, waiting.

  "I can't believe you're asking me this, after all these years, Mom. You really think I'd let someone else raise my own kid?"

  "She's with you all the time."

  "Because her family is never around. They're all wrapped up in their own shit, being famous people. She can't live out of a fucking suitcase all the time. She needs some stability sometimes, and she likes staying with me. They're our best friends. What's the big deal?"

  "It's not a big deal, hon. Your devotion to her is sweet. You're a good friend to them. I just wondered if there was more to it than you just doing your friends a favor."

  I shake my head, my hair falling into my face. I push it away with annoyance. She could have been mine, if I hadn't introduced my best friend to the girl I was fuckin' crazy about but too shy to ask out.

  "No, Mom. She's not mine. I've never slept with Ember."

  Tor

  My fourth beer goes down too fast. I'm itching for another but I know if I keep drinking I won't stop. I sure as hell don't, scratch that, can’t be drunk tonight. I've already proved I can't control my mouth sober so there's no telling what I'll say if I get wasted off my ass.

  I'm doing a good job of pretending to have a conversation with this girl named Heather, but my eyes keep drifting back to Kenzi, who's talking to Sailor on the other side of the property, but also keeps looking over at me and quickly looking away when I catch her.

  The wish she made after I found her penny in the grass keeps echoing in my head.

  I wish you weren't who you are...

  We laughed at it awkwardly, trying to make something funny that wasn't, and then I made an equally riddling joke about it before I forced myself to get away from her, running to the nearest good-looking woman at the party, like that was going to cover up what just happened.

  I think I knew what Kenzi was trying to say with her wish, though, and I don't like it.

  That's a fucking lie. I like it a lot.

  I'm pretty sure she's got a crush on me. Lots of Tessie's friends flirted with me when they were in high school. They giggled at me, said crazy things to me, paraded around trying to make me notice them, and then giggled some more. It's the same thing and normal for girls her age. That's all it is.

  My own feelings, however, are completely not normal. In any way. I shouldn't be flirting back with her. Or feeling all fucking giddy stupid over her hat on my head. But I do. I might never take this thing off.

  "I'd love to go for a ride on your bike someday," Heather is saying. I've known her for a while, and she says this every time we talk, even though I continue to never call her.

  "Sure...when I get a free day, we'll go for a ride." I say the lie well. It sounds legit.

  It's my canned reply when a woman thinks she's just going to hop on the back of my ride like I'm some kind pony. I like to ride alone. If I ever stick a woman on the back my bike, there's a good reason for her to be back there.

  Kenzi's laugh floats across the yard, even over the acoustic music Asher and his friends are playing. I can tell she likes Sailor, and judging from the attention he's giving her, he feels the same, which is no surprise. I'm not normally the jealous type, but I can feel a shade of green coming over me.

  Sailor is me twelve years ago. A young, good-looking musician on the cusp of a kick-ass music career. I've heard him play, and he's good. His riffs are fast, furious, and flawless. Like I once was.

  Now my fingers fly over wrenches. And the occasional text message reply.

  What I really want and need is my fingers on the warm flesh of a woman. This self-imposed celibacy is making me question my own sanity. Shutting out Kenzi's laughter, I focus on Heather like I should be doing. She's telling me she's a fitness instructor now, and it shows. Her body is tight, lean, and lacking the curves I prefer, but she's very easy on the eyes and hasn't shown any signs of being a psycho freak yet. Always a plus.

  I'm not surprised when she reaches towards me and lifts my shirt, her eyes widening in appreciation as she takes in my abs. When you have lots of muscles and ink and hair that's longer than the norm, people think they can touch you. Pet you. Like it's okay.

  "Wow, Toren. You've been hitting the gym hard. I noticed a difference as soon as I saw you tonight. Are you fighting again?"

  Raising my beer to my mouth, I shake my head before taking a drink. "No, I'm done with that. Just been working out a lot."

  She nods and licks her glossy lips. "It shows. Abs and eyes are my favorite parts of a man."

  I grin at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "I hope you do," her smile is sexy and inviting, and I wonder how I always seem to get here. I only wanted a conversation.

  I consider taking her home and breaking my sexual leave of absence. A long night with her would put me out of this self-imposed misery and maybe I'll stop reading nonexistent signs from my best friend’s seventeen-year-old daughter.

  Heather runs her finger along the waistband of my jeans, her finger
nail grazing over my skin. "I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow," she hints.

  My stomach muscles twitch under her touch, begging for more. My body isn't exactly on the same page as my brain.

  "Is that right?"

  Her hand slides a bit further into my pants. "I'll do all the work," she coos. "You can just lay there and enjoy the ride."

  I grab her hand and pull it out of my jeans. "That's not how I like it, sweetheart."

  "How do you like it?"

  "Not easy."

  I'm not sure if she gets the double meaning of my answer, but she tries one more time.

  "I don't mind it rough."

  Most women say that without having any idea what they're asking for. Cheap sheets are rough. An unpaved road is rough. A slap on the ass, some handcuffs, a hard pounding - that's not rough. That's fun.

  I can feel Kenzi's eyes on me without even having to look over at her, and I wonder if she saw Heather attempting to do a cock dive into my jeans.

  "I'm on a break," I finally say.

  "A what?"

  "A break," I repeat, finishing my beer. I want to go home. Alone. Heather might be fun for a few hours, but in the morning, I'd have to find a way to get rid of her and not see her again. I don't want to be a douche like that.

  "What does that mean, exactly?"

  "It means my dick is on a vacation."

  Heather scratches her head and looks around us, trying to find someone else to do all the work on, most likely. "Well...that's a new one, and I think I'll pass on asking for the details of what that might mean and why. Have a good one, Toren."

  As I watch her practically run away from me, I wonder what the hell I'm doing to myself. I'm on a path to sure social suicide.

  9

  Kenzi

  Kenzi ~ age ten

  Toren ~ age twenty-five (in jail for assault)

  Dear Uncle Tor,

  I miss you and hope you come home soon. Daddy said I can write to you every week. I'm using the special pen and ink you gave me.

  I am cleaning the bunny cage every Saturday just like I promised.

  I threw a penny in a puddle and wished you to be back, but it didn't work. I think it only works with deeper waters.

  Don't forget me while you are gone.

  I love you the most,

  Kenzi

  ——————————————————————————

  Dear Kenzi,

  I'll be home soon, I promise. Your writing is beautiful, and the parchment paper was very nice. A letter from you every week would make me happy. I'm sorry I'm not there to help you with Snuggles. I'll be back in a few months. Save some pennies for when I get there and we'll make wishes together. I don't think puddles will work, but thanks for trying.

  I could never forget you, Angel.

  Be good for Mommy and Daddy.

  I love you forever and longer,

  Uncle Tor

  Kenzi

  I always thought the last day of school would be exciting and I'd walk out the school doors for the last time with a huge smile, hugging Chloe, and we'd race off to get frappuccinos to discuss our plans for an amazing summer together.

  But instead, I'm standing under a tree on the front lawn of the school with my hoodie over my head, alone, in the rain. Chloe took off with Brendan to celebrate, and now I don't have a ride home. Six miles is going to feel like twelve in this weather, if I walk.

  I call my father on his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail. I frown, vaguely remembering him telling me he was going to the city today for a grief counseling meet up.

  Rayne is working, so she won't be able to come get me. I quickly flip through my contacts on my cell phone. I have Sailor's number saved, but I don't know him well enough to beg for a ride and I don't want him to see me looking like a gutter rat. Aunt Sydni isn't good at last minute plans and probably isn't even awake yet. I don't want to bother any of my dad's brothers, as they're all usually pretty busy.

  I hit Tor's number, and he picks up on the second ring.

  "Hey, you. Happy last day."

  "Thanks. I seem to be without a ride home. What a great way for me to launch into adulting."

  "You're in luck; I'm in the truck on my way to pick up a stray. I'll grab you first if you don't mind coming with me?"

  "Not at all. Now you can pick up two strays. I'm out front."

  Ten minutes later he pulls in front of the school, and I climb into his truck wearing a big grateful smile.

  "You're a life saver," I lean across the front seat to kiss his cheek. "I'm talking to Dad tonight about getting a car. This is stupid."

  "Truth. Ask for something cool, like a Mustang. Or a Corvette."

  "I'll take anything with four wheels and a roof at this point."

  "Be careful or he'll get you a golf cart."

  Laughing, I run my fingers through my damp hair that's starting to frizz. "So, where are we going?"

  "I just got a call about a dog on the highway; they said he almost got hit a few times."

  "On the highway? Where? How are you even going to find him?"

  He makes a left turn and turns the radio off. "They gave me a mile marker. They said he's not moving, just huddled up against the cement divider."

  This doesn't sound like it's going to go well. "Oh, no. Tor, he's probably hurt."

  Nodding, he pulls the truck onto the on ramp of the highway. "Can you climb in back and find one of my leashes? And there's some treats back there; I'll need those."

  I lean over the seat into the back and find everything he mentioned and then spread an old blanket over the back seat. The dog’s paws and coat will be wet from the rain and I don't want Tor's truck to get all muddy. I grab an old towel so we can dry the dog off.

  "Shit, there he is."

  I turn back into my seat as he pulls the truck over onto the bumpy shoulder of the highway and throws it in park. He grabs the leash and the treats, shoving a handful into his pocket, and we both stare across the two lane busy road at the large off-white dog who’s got himself smashed up against the divider, his uncontrollable shaking visible from here.

  Tor turns his attention to me. "Kenzi, listen to me. I want you to stay right here. No matter what, do not try to follow me onto that highway, okay?"

  I look at him, to the dog on other side of all that traffic and then back at him. "Tor, you're scaring me. This is dangerous. It's pouring rain."

  "I can't leave him there; he'll get killed."

  "So could you." I point out. It's raining and foggy, and the cars are flying past us non-stop. He's crazy if he thinks he's going to get to that dog.

  "I'll be fine. If one of these assholes hit me, call 911 and stay in this truck."

  My heart seizes at his words. How can he say he'll be fine and then talk about calling 911 all in the same breath?

  "What? Tor, maybe you should let animal control come. Let's just wait here for them."

  "And do what? Watch that poor dog scared out of it's mind in the middle of a four lane highway? It'll take AC too long to get here. I'm here now."

  "I know, but-"

  He interrupts me, not hearing any of it. "Don't worry. Stay here and wait for me."

  Before I can say anything else, he's jumped out of the truck and is standing on the edge of the road, waiting for a gap in the traffic. I gasp when he runs across the first lane and then he's forced to stop right in the middle of the two lanes, to wait for another break in the traffic. Cars continue to fly by him, blaring their horns. I hold my breath as he makes another mad dash across the next lane, and ends up about ten feet behind the dog. My hand clutches my cell phone, ready to dial 911 immediately if anything happens to him.

  The shivering dog peers behind him warily and starts to belly-crawl further away, obviously petrified of not only the cars and trucks whizzing by but now a very large stranger creeping up behind him. Tor crouches to his knees and holds out his hand, offering treats, his lips moving. I know he's talking softly to th
e dog, attempting to gain the tiniest amount of trust. Animals can always sense he's a good person and they warm up to him quickly, but between the downpour and the traffic, the dog looks like it's on the verge of mania.

  Tor inches closer, and the dog’s ears perk up with a slight amount of interest. The leash is grasped in Tor's other hand at his side, the end in a noose-style loop so he can throw it quickly over the dog’s head.

  "Please stay, please stay," I whisper in desperation as Toren moves slowly closer to the dog, just inches from being able to pet him, when an eighteen wheeler flies by, spooking the dog.

  My body goes cold with fear as I watch as the dog stands and attempts to move further away from Tor, dragging one of it's back legs, it's eyes wild and darting from the stranger creeping up on him, to the busy road. The feeling of entrapment is bringing on a fight or flight reaction. Obviously, the dog got where he is by running through cars, and he's thinking about doing it again.

  Tor moves closer, and the dog suddenly lurches into the traffic, attempting to run away. Cars honk and swerve and the dog freezes - right in the middle of the fast lane. My heart jumps into my throat as Tor dives at the dog, landing on top of him, then scoops him up into his arms and somehow manages to get both of them out of oncoming traffic.

  "Oh my God," tears stream down my cheeks as I watch, completely stricken with panic as Tor stands between the lanes, the huge dog in his arms, trying to cross back to the shoulder where I'm waiting.

  I can't take this anymore. I leave the truck and run out to the edge of the highway and wave my arms at the oncoming traffic, trying to get the cars to slow down, or stop. Why does no one care or stop to help? Can't they see a person is standing in the middle of the highway with an injured dog?