Page 9 of Fire Kissed
An uncomfortable flit of quiet drops in.
I—I, uh, I think it’s probably just bad reception here or something. Crossed waves of mind magic that’s been pent up for too long that’s madeyour emotions link with mine. It’ll probably be sorted out once you’re back in the human realm.
I blink at his response. I didn’t exactly think we were mates even though we’re both wolves of sorts. Sure, the sex was amazing. He’s amazing. Smart. Sweet. Sexy. So undeniably sexy.
“Yeah. Crossed waves makes way more sense,” I finally murmur just to get my thoughts to shut up before he hears too much.
“Who are you talking to?” A booming voice shakes through the room, rattling my focus entirely.
I shake my head hard as my gaze meets the intense stare of the man filling the doorway. It’s strange how big and empty the cavernous space suddenly seems now that I focus on it all. Torben’s brooding appearance is scary in the darkness. So much so that I still don’t know how I ever thought of him as the sweet Hell warrior who protected me.
“No one,” I answer too quickly.
His brows lower even more. Only when his dark attention drifts south do I realize I’m holding my arms around myself like a hug... and only emphasizing the plumpness of my slick breasts in the flickering light.
He clears his throat hard and looks away, my own reaction mirroring his as I slink down into the warm bath. His big hand pushes down his beard. To my surprise, he comes closer. His boots scuff over the stone floor until he’s at the edge of the carved pool.
“I—”
“I want to see Latham and Aric,” I blurt before I can talk myself out of it.
I steel my spine for a fight. I won’t drop it this time. I refuse.
He doesn’t even look at the determination in my eyes though. There’s too much of a defeated pull to his wide shoulders that seems to drag a single word out of him:
“Okay.”
My steely spine wavers like fresh jello...
What?
“What?” I echo, with confusion lacing each letter of that tiny word.
“Get dressed,” he orders.
And then he walks away. He strides right out like he’s on a sudden mission, and I find myself staggering after him on wet, slick steps. In the bedroom, I grab his sheet and wrap it around myself, his glare catching on his sopping wet bedding instantly.
“That was my fucking sheet,” he howls, his hand thrusting between us to motion to said wet sheet.
“You’ll take me to them?”
“I said get dressed, not ruin my godsdamn bedding.”
My mouth opens to direct him back to the issue at hand, but then I see it. Long lines of lashing wounds cover his right side. His chest is bare and damp... And bloody. Fresh blood trickles from one red line, and I’m rushing around him to see what I already know is there.
My mouth falls. Deep wounds cut across his broad shoulders. They slash down his back all the way to the small of his hips.
“She whipped you,” I say on an empty voice.
Shaking fingers reach out to him. I barely graze a section of smooth, red skin when he pulls away. He turns quickly to face me, hiding the bleeding lashing from my accusing sight.
My glare hits his gaze, but he diverts his attention to the big, carved wardrobe near the bookshelf. Without much thought, he grabs a black shirt and tugs it roughly over his head, wincing only slightly once the cloth settles on his back. With that rough caveman demeanor, he jerks another dark shirt from the wardrobe and tosses it at me.
“Get dressed,” he barks.
The sheet falls from my hands and I go through the motions of dressing. He doesn’t look at me in my nudity. He can’t even meet my eyes. The energy that’s always sparking between us is soft and painful now. I want to wrap my arms around him and shield him from life.
It’s then that I realize my tormentor is just as much a prisoner as I am.
