CHAPTER 10 Torj
Torj
‘A soul bond can be likened to an instinct of the most primal nature’
– Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History
‘TORJ,’ WREN WHISPERED, turning to him from where she stood before the mirror.
With his name on her lips, he could only stare.
She was breathtaking in bridal white, the floor-length gown hugging her curves, the neckline plunging between her breasts. The silk gleamed in the candlelight as she moved towards him, her eyes red-rimmed.
Torj was in a trance. He had never allowed himself to envision Wren like this, as a bride. Some deep, dark part of him had always known that it would be pure torture, never fully believing it would come to pass. Only now, here she was, dressed for her wedding.
But it wasn’t for him.
As her fingertips skated along his skin, he was suddenly young again, happening upon her in the Bloodwoods, her basket of herbs at her feet, a harvesting knife pointed at him. A ragged sound shuddered out of him then – relief, sorrow, longing, all tangled into one.
‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me,’ he murmured, cupping her face and drinking in every freckle, each shifting shade of green in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Why him?’ he asked, voice cracking. ‘Tell me why it has to be him, after everything I told you.’
‘I’ve been trying to find the time to explain, but we can’t be seen together. You can’t—’
He knew he wasn’t being rational, but the primal urge to wipe Darian’s touches from her skin, to claim her as his own, as he was hers, was overpowering.
Every principle he’d lived by warred against the need consuming him.
She was promised to another – his sworn enemy, no less.
But the bond between them was older than any vow, deeper than any moral code.
‘Torj,’ she whispered, a plea.
There would be time for words later, but here and now?
Torj crushed his mouth to Wren’s in a searing kiss.
He tasted the salt of her tears as she moaned against his lips, opening for him, the sound shooting straight to his cock. Desire surged forth, and he carried her to one of the alcoves, wrenching the thick curtain closed behind them.
He wasn’t gentle. But nor was she. They matched each other’s desperation and hunger, clawing at one another—
Wren broke away, her bright eyes piercing him down to his soul. ‘I love you.’
‘You say that now . . .’ Torj let the hurt show, let her see how her plans had ruined him.
But Wren was fierce. ‘I’ll say it every day until you know it’s true, and forever after that.
’ She pressed her palm to his chest, where lightning scars marred his inked skin.
Her touch was not to push him away, but to centre him, to command his full attention.
‘Look at me, Torj,’ she demanded. ‘I have never belonged to him. This is strategy, not a surrender. I belong to you.’
‘Then why can’t we find some other way?’
‘This part of the plan requires sacrifice,’ she said, and he heard what remained unspoken – that she was the sacrifice, offered up like a lamb to slaughter.
Torj didn’t want to talk any more. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her answers. Instead, he wanted to remember the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she cried out his name when she came undone. She was his soul-bonded. His. And he would have her now, as the bond demanded.
Every fibre of his being longed to be united with her.
And so he mapped the curves of her body with his hands, mesmerized as she arched into his touch like a woman starved.
He savoured every reaction to him: the tremor of a muscle, the soft sighs on her lips, the crease in her brow as he taunted and teased her body into a frenzy.
A frenzy that only a soul-bonded could create.
With the curtains drawn, they were in their own world. He kissed her again, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth until she was whimpering and grinding herself against him in that beautiful white dress. A dress that Darian had given her.
‘I want to tear this thing off you,’ he growled in her ear, gripping the fabric at her waist, his cock straining at the thought. He could feel moisture beading at the tip – so ready for her, always ready for her.
‘Don’t you dare, Bear Slayer,’ she hissed, tensing beneath his grip. But the brightness in her eyes betrayed her arousal, as did the rise and fall of her chest within the confines of her gown.
‘I think you’d like it,’ he murmured against her neck, biting her gently so that she arched again. ‘You’d like it if I ripped this dress apart and fucked you for all the world to see. Tell me it’s not true, Embers.’
‘Torj . . .’ she warned, her tongue swiping across her lower lip.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, hiking the material up and bunching it around her thighs. ‘I’m not going to rip it off . . .’
Wren moaned as his fingers found her wet, bare centre.
‘But I am going to fuck you,’ he said, pushing two fingers inside her.
Her head hit the wall as it tipped back in ecstasy, and Torj bit the top of her breast to muffle a groan of his own.
The heat of her was intoxicating, and he relished every stroke as he worked her until her legs were trembling around him.
Where their skin touched, faint golden lines appeared, tracing patterns in a rhythm made for them and them alone – the physical manifestation of a bond written in fate.
He imagined the bliss of replacing his fingers with his cock, that tight wet heat wrapping around the length of him. But not yet. First, he wanted his name on her lips.
Freeing her breasts from the bodice of her dress, he teased her nipples with tongue and teeth, while his hand dipped between her legs and circled her clit. Light patterns, building in pressure and speed, before he pinched.
The sight of her writhing for him was almost enough to stop him from realizing one very disturbing fact: she hadn’t been wearing undergarments. Again.
With an open palm, he slapped her naked backside and Wren gasped, her eyes flying open in surprise. But her centre grew even wetter as he pushed his fingers inside once more. He made a mental note of that for another time.
‘You’re bare beneath these skirts for him?’ He didn’t even recognize his own voice as it dipped to a growl.
‘I—’ she panted. ‘I can’t wear them with a dress this tight—’
‘You’re mine, Embers.’ He gripped the swell of her backside hard enough to bruise, while he moved his fingers in punishing strokes.
Through the bond, he could feel her heart racing to match his own, could sense her thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.
He knew she felt his rage, his jealousy, his desperate love – laid bare without words.
Wren watched him with a knowing glint in her eye. She spread her legs wider, holding up the skirts so that when he looked down, he could see his fingers glistening with her arousal as they moved in and out of her.
‘Go on then, Bear Slayer,’ she taunted, riding his hand. ‘You said you were going to fuck me . . . so fuck me.’
Torj met her challenging gaze and gave her a wicked smile. ‘You asked for it, Embers . . .’
He freed his cock from his leathers and lifted her, bracing her against the wall, Wren wrapping her legs around him for stability. Torj held his breath as he lined himself up with her entrance—
Wren jerked her hips and the tip of him slid inside.
‘Fuck,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘That’s cheating.’
‘You’re taking too long—’
The curtains were suddenly ripped back.
‘Not even a week engaged, and you make a cuckold of me,’ a familiar voice sounded.