by Billi Jean
“Yeah? What kind of rules are those?” Sorcha looked more interested than he wanted, but she stood up and picked up her coat. Beauty, bless her heart, didn’t say a word, merely watched Sorcha with an intensity that had his guard up. “I bet he breaks them,” Sorcha said.
“Thank you Sorcha, but you really need to go. The news, Tabithia, Hunter, right?” If he’d thought that would hurry the witch up, he was wrong. She tugged her long red hair out of her jacket and looked like she was settling in for another talk.
“I think I have some time. To hear this, don’t you think?” she replied, unruffled by his rudeness.
Maybe he needed to take it up a notch.
“So far he’s not. Rule number two?” Beauty said, eyes on him.
That better not be wake her up with oral sex. Maybe that was number two? Or three? He was getting a little fuzzy on her rules.
“Don’t leave me behind,” she murmured.
Oh, yeah. He knew that one. Why did that make Sorcha laugh?
“Good one. See he keeps it front and centre. I’ll be seeing you both soon, no doubt. Until then, try to stay out of trouble.”
She disappeared with a wave. Beauty narrowed her eyes to green slits of pissed-off woman.
“She tried to say you’d forced our bond. That you’d done something to make me love you. The witch.”
His brow puckered. Surely she’d heard wrong. He’d not heard anything like that. Well, he’d been too pissed over Sorcha even insinuating that Beauty might be tainted.
Suddenly it dawned on him. They were alone. He pulled Beauty into his arms and ignored her protests as he kissed every inch of her sweet face. She fought him a little, but really, he was bigger and he was using it. “I love you. Never do that to me again. Never.”
When she melted into him, she’d never felt better. Nothing could be better than this.
“Make love to me, Torque.”
All right. He was man enough to admit when he was wrong. Nothing was better than hearing those sweet words from those sweet lips.
“Rule number three?”
Green eyes glowing darker, she purred. “Yes. Oh, definitely rule number three.”
Gods, she was so his. He shoved the covers aside, dived between her silky thighs and went to work on his favourite rule. Making Beauty scream in orgasm. With his tongue.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Beauty! Wake up! Beauty! Damn it to hell! Wake up sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Torque! Wake up!”
Beauty gasped and fought with all her might. They’d not take her.
“No one is taking you. No one. Beauty!” Hard hands shook her, she felt the power flow, the warning tingle along her spine, then the hands were gone. Crashing sounded, and a vicious curse.
A voice. She knew. She knew that voice. The shadows cleared. Breathless, hurting so badly she couldn’t catch her breath. She licked dry lips and frantically looked around the room. A room. Warm. Comforting.
A man stood, big, tall, and menacing, coming towards her. Her hands jerked up and she stumbled on her feet, standing on—glancing down, she realised she stood on a bed.
“Beauty? It’s me. Torque. Sweetheart, what is it? What is it?”
Memories crashed in. Torque. She latched on to them and fell back against the headboard. Pain shot up her spine, heating her back. Images shoved at her, winging dangerously close before she blinked them away and latched onto a face.
Torque. He was naked, for once not aroused. Chest heaving, hands up, he stood a few feet from the bed. Behind him, the small antique table she’d just purchased in Paris lay broken to bits. A mirror had fallen down next to it, and when she met Torque’s eyes, he winced.
“Beauty? Sweetheart? Talk to me. Talk to me.”
He sounded desperate. Strangled.
Her knees gave out and the bed rose up to meet her. Torque cursed horribly.
Kneeling, she shook her head to clear the last bits of her dream. Dream? Or memory? Whatever it was, it was beginning to become hard to grab hold of as if the wisps of smoke flowed away on a breeze. Not that she wanted to hold on. Goddess, her head hurt.
“Shit. This re-run is getting old, Torque.”
Torque pulled her close, nestling her aching head against his warm chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
That was getting old too. Sucked. Truly. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” Breathless, he let her go to turn her. She knew the moment he saw the blood. His body stiffened and his hands gentled down her arm to clutch her hand. “Sweetheart. I—”
“It’s okay. Don’t call Sorcha. Just hold me. It was a nightmare, nothing more.”
She saw his argument but he held it in, simply pulling her close and hugging her carefully. “I can’t help you. I can’t keep you safe.”
Heart swelling painfully, she shook her head in denial. “It was only a memory. It’s gone now. I can’t—”
“Don’t. Christ. Don’t even think about it.” He sounded so upset she nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around him. They stayed kneeling, holding each other for a long while, until his heartbeat steadied out and she could breathe without pain. Her head hurt. She felt his exhaustion. He needed to sleep and she knew he wouldn’t. Not even when she did.
Now he’d want to stand sentry while she slept.
“I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s sleep, Beauty.”
He let her pull away enough to meet his eyes. He looked so worried he broke her heart. He didn’t need this. Her. This constant battle just for a little peace. And now she couldn’t even sleep safely.
“I want you to sleep as well, Torque, or I won’t.”
“Beauty, we don’t even know what just happened—”
“I dreamed, Torque. A memory. Sorcha was right about the binding. You know it, I know it. The spell is there. It’s keeping my memories from me, even if I want to remember, I can’t.”
He got off the bed with a low curse. “Let me get the spare sheets.”
Spare sheets? She felt a small smile form on her lips. Did he know where they were?
“Where are they?” he asked a second later.
She got off the bed, bent and picked up his shirt from the floor, and tugged it on over her burning back before walking to the large wooden chest by the window and pulling a set of pale yellow sheets out.
“I ruined the sheets, didn’t I?” Blood wasn’t coming out of the silk. Glancing around at the damage to the room, she frowned. “Why is the table crushed?” She saw his face tighten but he refused to say a thing.
Instead, he rubbed his hand through his dishevelled hair and walked over to pick up his sleep pants, sliding them on before meeting her eyes. “You threw me.”
She threw him? Startled she ran over to turn him around and sucked in a breath at his back. A large cut, dripping blood down his shoulder, marred his beautiful skin. Oh, Gods. She’d done this.
“It’ll heal in a few, now, come on—”
“No! Torque! No.” Breathless, she touched his skin and he turned, took her hands, and shook them gently until she looked up.
“I’m glad you threw me. Glad. Do you hear? No one, no one will ever harm you. You were dreaming. You didn’t know it was me.”
“But your back!”
“It will heal. It will heal,” he repeated when she didn’t say anything.
She nodded, but couldn’t stop the flow of tears. She didn’t want to. It hurt. This hurt. A life? She’d thought she had one. Now? Did she? Had the Death Stalker done something?
“Help me make the bed, you know I can’t.”
He was trying to distract her. She stalled. Pulled him but he pulled harder and simply dragged her to the bed. “Torque.”
“Let’s clean up. Then we can discuss all your worries.”
Her worries? The little—She met his eyes and sighed. He was trying to ease her and she sensed himself.
“You have to pull the old ones off first. Then we can put these on.”
Several min
utes later, he was grumbling at her for how freaking complicated making a bed was when his phone buzzed. They both froze.
“Torque?”
He ignored the phone and pulled her with him to sit on his lap. She curled up, suddenly exhausted. “Do you have to answer?”
“Yeah, I’d better. Stay here though. I want to hold you, Beauty.”
Nodding, she tamped down the hurt and confusion, feeling his love warming her as much as his arms. “I love you so, Torque.”
“Ah, sweetheart.” He gently brushed a hand over her hair. “I love you, too. We’ll figure this out. We will. Don’t look so sad.” He watched her closely, his intelligent grey eyes focused on her intently. “Trust me.”
She didn’t say anything. There was no need. She let her head sag against his bare chest and let him wrap his hand around hers, lacing their fingers as he brushed another kiss to her brow before flipping his phone open one-handed.
Could they fix this? How would they know when something else would spark her memory? Do this?
“Hey, what’s with calling in the middle of the night?”
She heard a low male voice but didn’t bother to try and figure it out. Exhaustion beat at her. Thankfully no images floated up. Struggling to stay awake she had to focus on Torque to keep sleep at bay.
“What? She’s fine. Fine. What—”
Whoever had called spoke rapidly and Torque frowned harder then sighed. “I’m sorry, man. Try again, one more day before you do something else.” A pause then he said, “Sure, sure I will. If you need me you know where I am.”
He sounded so normal. Underneath it, she felt his worry and fear for her. Helplessness, something she’d not felt before, flooded her. What were they to do? Live with her unstable memory?
“Stop. Don’t do this, sweetheart. We will figure this out.”
His complete confidence stirred her. He felt certain of it. Almost as if he could solve her past and find a way to cure her of the spell binding her memories all by himself. Gods, she loved him.
“Right, good, good. Call me tomorrow. Later.”
She couldn’t help but snuggle closer to this strength, letting him flood their bond with confidence and that maleness she loved. Torque. Her brave, beautiful warrior.
“I want to sleep.”
He chuckled into her hair. “So do I. Just no wake-up screams, okay, sweet?”
“Torque,” she protested, already sitting up to scold him.
His familiar grin stopped her heart. “I’m only teasing.”
“I love you, no teasing me.”
He was so handsome, he took her breath away. And she’d hurt him.
“Aw, I didn’t realise you loving me meant I couldn’t tease you.” Tapping her nose with a finger, he kissed her quickly when she snapped her teeth at him. “Behave. Now, let’s go sleep in that damn bed that takes way too much work to make up.”
Feeling marginally better, she nodded and stood up. Her back felt better, no doubt the painful welts already disappearing. Tugging his shirt off, she climbed up on the bed and heard Torque groan behind her.
“Damn, that was just plain mean.”
“Torque.” She moved closer when he slid next to her, wrapping her in his warm embrace so she rested against his heart.
“Your head is hurting?”
“Mmm, a little.”
He didn’t say anything, even through their bond he was silent, but she knew he was still worried over her.
“That’s never happened before, has it?”
She didn’t have to ask what. The blood. The whip marks, more precisely. Not since yesterday. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “No, not really.”
“Rest, sleep.”
“I want you too as well.”
He didn’t respond but she felt him relax under her.
“Torque.”
“I will, don’t worry, sweet.”
“I will unless you sleep, too.”
“I’m trying but someone is nagging me.”
Lifting her head, she gave him a dirty look for that. “I am not nagging you.”
One big hand reached up and he pulled her back down by her head. The brat.
“We’ll solve this just like we did my curse. Just like we did the club. Trust me. Sleep and in the morning, we’ll work on that fourth rule.”
Smiling, she kissed his big arm muscle. She loved her third rule. Make Torque beg for more with her mouth.
Feeling warmer, safer, and more at ease in his arms, she faded. Slowly, settling against Torque as his breathing slowed with hers.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“This will work.” Torque had already told Beauty this, but since she stood with her back to him, arms wrapped around her waist, and looking out the kitchen window, he thought restating the facts a good idea.
She didn’t turn but he saw her exhale. Her dark grey yoga pants and small black workout top showed off every inch of her, but for once his mind was on her mind, not her body.
“How will this help? I already feel wrapped in spells.”
Yeah, he got the frustration. It was the helplessness he didn’t like. “This will simply buy us some time. Until we can figure this out.” Or find the mage who’d done this to her. Last night had been bad, worse than even their fight in the witches’ shop. At least there, he’d known he was wrong, known he’d fucked up and needed to fix his shit. Now? He had nothing. Nothing but spelling her memories so they wouldn’t unconsciously break free and wake them up in the middle of the night to screams. And him tossed up against the wall like a rag doll. It was a good thing he had no doubts about his manhood, because Beauty surely chipped at his self-esteem. If he had issues. He didn’t.
“This is an answer. For now. You know I can take it down, when we solve this.”
“If we solve this. You mean if.”
“No.” Enough was enough. He erased the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin against her silky hair. “I mean when. We will get answers. Don’t you trust me?” Not a fair play, but this was their life, and he wasn’t having her miserable. And she was. Miserable and sad, confused and guilty for waking them. Like he’d not been waken before by screaming banshees?
“Oh? What kind of women did you go to before me?”
“None. Not a one. Let me do this. I promise it will help. At the least, it will give us time.”
“And you won’t wake up to my insane screams and blood—”
“Stop. Woman, do you think I’ve never been hurt before? Fuck, you’ve seen my chest. That wall was nothing. You make me sound like a goddamn pussy.”
“Torque!” Outrage and a bit of humour coloured her tone. She wiggled her sweet butt against his hips and he reluctantly let her go enough to let her turn. He held her delicate shoulders so she’d face him. He hated when she blocked him out.
“Let me do this. Then we’ll check in on what went down with all that news hitting the different factions.”
He played dirty but there was no way he was taking a chance on her staying so unhappy. Not when he could fix it. Fix this. Her. For now, he told himself. Then? He’d worry about then when ‘then’ arrived.
“You don’t play nice.”
“Sweet, I want you happy. This will give us the time to figure out what to do. And you’ll be more at ease.” And so would he.
She sighed like he’d just ruined her day. “Fine.” “Baby.”
Oh, that was just cruel.
“I’m frightened, Torque. What if—?”
He couldn’t bear her being frightened enough to admit it. “No more what-ifs. Not now. Now we fix this.”
“More like putting a Band-aid over a break in the Hoover.”
“You are adorable when you grumble.” Not waiting on her come back, he tugged her to the study. He swore she dragged her feet.
She’d been right about the spells. They layered on her, one on top of the other. That worried him. What if one linked to the other like a house of cards? There wa
s the protection spell, oddly enough, it felt more like a trap spell but it acted as a shield of sorts. On top of that, there was the sick bastard’s memory spell he knew for a fact was a trap. Neither shared the same signature, so chances were slim they were from the same source.
“Now what I’m planning is simple really. I’m going through our bond, linking us deeper and creating a shield of sorts. This will allow us to control the Hoover.”
She huffed at his use of her term. “Funny.”
“It won’t hurt.”
“Duh, of course not. But will it last? And how long? I mean.” Throwing her hands up, she glared at him, then spun in a slow circle, her arms out from her sides, looking beautifully irritated when she faced him again. “Look at me. I’m a wreck. Any time, any time I could walk into something, someone that will trigger a memory and then—”
“That’s what this will do. When or if you run into something”—he created a box out of his hands, showing her the sides closing in—“the spell will control the flood and stem the memory before it can become too clear.” At least he hoped that was what it would do. How to corral those memories when he wasn’t sure what they were was tricky, but not completely out of reach. “I’m simply going to place a fence around your past, and keep your present free.”
She gave him a ‘oh shit’ look. “Okay.”
“Damn it, that’s—”
“No, it’s okay. Do it. I’m tired of worrying over it. It’s like messing with a broken tooth that might explode in my mouth if I don’t stop messing with it.”
Well, shit. He managed to handle her complete about-face without cursing. Barely. He needed to hug her. Make love to her. Spank her ass, and then love her again. But he couldn’t. Not now.
She raised a sexy hand, shifted her long golden hair off her face, and simply waited on him to get his shit together.
“All right. Sit down. I’ll sit next to you.” He was blabbering, but what the hell. Nervous energy made him a bit shaky. Nerves. Shit, he was a wreck. “This won’t hurt, but you will feel me, then maybe something odd, like—” Hell if he knew. She’d feel something, perhaps a layer of numb between her memories and the present and recent past. He wasn’t about to delete himself from that brilliant mind.