Page 51 of Faithless
“Enjoying the preview of what’s to come later?” Torr asked, his voice heavy with derision.
“Being cut up with machetes is actuallynotone of my kinks,” I shot back. “And like I said before, my plan is to talk to him, not fuck him.”
“But you haven’t ruled it out.” Torr pulled the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and drank directly from it. I held my hand out, but he didn’t offer me any. “And you’ve been eye-fucking him since he walked out there.”
I dropped my arm, letting it flop against the side of my chair. “What is your fucking problem?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Torr, we’re supposed to be working together.” I put my hands in my lap and turned to face him. “When you’re not ignoring me, you’re picking fights with me. I know this shit is difficult to see. I know it’s hard to pretend to be like the other guests. But we have the same goal, right?”
“I don’t know.” He took another swig from the bottle. “You tell me. What is that goal, Rori?”
I put my elbow on my knee, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth. The VIP box seemed private, but I still wanted to be careful. “We have to shut this place down. I don’t think it’s just the gladiators they exploit. I was talking to my maid earlier and…she didn’t outright say she was enslaved, but I could read between the lines.”
“Fuck.” Torr rubbed his eyes and took another pull of champagne. “And how are the two of us supposed to do that?”
“You see the Butcher’s jaguar?” I nodded toward the sand pit, where the fighter and his animal companion paced in the center. Shit, was there even more fighting to come?
“Yeah, so?”
“What if it’s a god like Astarte? Did you see how it protected his back? When it rubbed against the other man and then he stood up?” Torr remained silent, his brow furrowed as his mind put the pieces together. “That’s why I need to talk to him. I’ll bet you he’s the one we needed to meet. Maybe he can…I dunno, get the gladiators to revolt. Tell us what we need to know.”
Torr’s eyes shifted toward me. “You didn’t see the jaguar around when they lined up during training.”
I stared at him, confused. “Okay, so? Astarte isn’t exactly glued to me at all times, either.”
“I’m pointing out the fact that you were up for fucking—I’m sorry—talkingto him before ever knowing he had a jaguar.”
“Torr!” I barked so loudly, my voice echoed off the glass window. “Why the fuck is that such a stick up your ass? It’s a perfect opportunity to find more intel, and you’re acting like it’s some big fucking betrayal.”
“You know why.”
He continued hogging the champagne bottle, so I snatched it out of his grip because I sure as hell wasn’t going to have this argument sober.
“Is itreallybecause he’s a gladiator and can’t consent? Or is it something else? What do you want me to do, pinky-swear that I won’t fuck him? Why is it such a big fucking deal to you?”
Torr stood abruptly from his chair, towering over me for one intense second that felt like minutes. His shoulders and jaw were so rigid from held-back energy, I thought for a moment he might hit me.
Or throw me against a wall and fuck me, if he was that bent out of shape about mepotentiallyfucking someone else.
The familiar fantasy hit my frontal lobe, playing out like it had so many times before. Torr lifting me by the waist so I could wrap my legs around his hips. Kissing me like he needed my air to breathe. Walking forward until my back hit a wall and pinning there while we fumbled with passion and desperation to get clothing out of the way of our goal.
I’m right here,I thought, meeting his heated gaze.I’m right fucking here. You don’t want me alone with another man? Prove it. Show me the real reason why.
Torr broke his gaze away, his shoulders cutting stiffly through the air as he crossed the space to the door in a few strides. “I’m gonna finish drinking out there.” He angled his head toward the guest lounge on the other side of the door. “Probably won’t head back to the suite until later. Gonna need some space.”
He didn’t slam the door behind him, but he might as well have from the way I flinched at the sound.
Alone in the VIP box, I turned slowly to face the sand pit again. The Butcher was in the middle of another battle, another free-for-all with other gladiators like the first fight had been.
“Fuck Torr,” I said to the small, empty room I now had to myself. “Fuck me.”
I settled back into my chair and grabbed the half-empty champagne bottle. Bringing it to my lips, I leaned back, kicked off my shoes, and placed my feet on the table in front of me. My skirt slid up my legs, exposing me from my feet to just about my knees.
I drank my fill, both of the expensive booze and the beautiful display of strength and grace from the Butcher. Torr thought I was eye-fucking him before? That was nothing compared to this.
I watched the sweat roll down his neck to disappear under his thin shirt. The shape and tension of the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he swung the machetes at his opponents. I watched his tongue dart out to lick his lips and the intense focus in his dark eyes. His eyelashes were so thick and full, beads of sweat clung to them like tears. When his shoulders and chest rose and fell with great gulps of breath, I wished I could see that motion on a repeating loop.
