Torment

40 part II

“Rune,” I say, “I’m fine. Just … can you give me some time?”

Rune is quiet as he gives me a look. His jaw is tight, as he glances between Torren and I, and it’s like he realizes it’s not worth the trouble, because he sighs. “I’ll be inside.”

Torren’s voice slices through the charged silence. “You’re leaving with him.”

He doesn’t say it like a question.

I swallow, eyes burning. “It’s the last bit of self-preservation I have left.”

He snarls. “Fuck self-preservation.”

“If you’re here to kill me,” I say, tears rushing to my eyes. “Just do it.”

Torren tilts his head as his gaze washes over me, anger and dark amusement swimming in his eyes.

Suddenly, he takes a step forward, wrapping his hand around my throat.

I gasp, more from surprise. The action seems to hurt him more than it does me, because a grimace briefly contorts his face.

He must’ve gotten the bullets removed and the wounds stitched up, but I’m certain he shouldn’t be putting any strain on his body right now.

His hand around my neck — it’s not the worst way to go. Kill me, I want to say. Take the breath out of me, because now that I know you, no one else compares. I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life.

It was never meant to be like this. I was never meant to fall for him. It takes a monster to love a monster. And I would fight anyone who threatened my life. Anyone but him.

I’d let him drag me into hell, so long as it meant that he was by my side.

So much for self-preservation.

I close my eyes and let the tears slide down my cheeks.

Torren’s hand tightens around my neck, but it’s not a threatening grip. I glance up at him. His dark hair is scattered over his forehead, and his breath fans my face as he leans in closer, pressing his against mine. The metallic scent of blood on his skin mixes with the lingering trace of whiskey.

For a moment, I think he might strangle me, or maybe even kiss me. But he just runs his thumb across the crest of my cheeks, his touch tender and possessive as he wipes away my tears. I shudder at the touch.

Torren tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

Then he runs his hand through my hair, tugging the strands back so that I’m forced to meet his gaze.

The air between us thickens. His lips hover above mine, and when he speaks, they graze against my lips, like the delicate touch of a flame. “Did you mean it?”

I furrow my brows. “What?”

His breathing is labored, and his hands are shaking. “When you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

I stay quiet for a while. Then, I say, “Does it matter? You hate me.”

His gaze is resolute. “It’s not a switch.”

An echo of the words I said to him.

“Ask me,” he demands, “Ask me if I hate you.”

My voice comes as a whisper, barely audible over the blood rushing through my ears. “Do you hate me?”

His gaze is dark. “I hate everyone else in the world but you.”

My breath catches, my body frozen in the weight of his admission.

A line forms between his brows. “Why did you run?”

I frown. “You told me to.”

“When have you ever listened to me?” he retorts, frustration lacing his words.

My frown deepens.

“You were meant . . .” he rasps, “You were meant to stay and fight me.”

I shake my head. “I can’t fight you anymore.”

But he ignores me, pressing on. “You weren’t supposed to leave the country. You were supposed to stay here, where I could keep an eye on you.”

And then something inside me pushes me to lash out, like a wounded animal.

“And what? You let me go and I’m supposed to…

what? Stay alone for the rest of my life?

You should’ve known that the first chance you gave me, I would run.

I would try to live a life without you. And maybe one day, I would get married to someone decent,” I say, like the thought of marrying someone else doesn’t sicken me.

He growls. “Who are you going to marry? Who the fuck are you going to marry?! I’m your fucking man.”

Stunned into silence, I’m lost for words, my heart racing at a hundred an hour in my chest. And then, realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. I glance up at him. “How did you find me?”

He’s unperturbed, his gaze unwavering. “There’s a tracker in the Mustang. Answer my question.”

“What question?”

His jaw is tight. “Did you mean what you said?”

I let out a harsh breath. “You think I lied? You think I was scared of losing my life? I was scared of losing you!”

Torren goes rigid, his features blank. He takes a staggered breath, and his jaw slackens.

“And your feelings haven’t changed?” he says, slowly, “After watching me kill your father?”

“You —” I shrug helplessly. “You damaged me.”

He takes a step closer to me.

“There’s another version of this story,” he says, “In it, I let you go.”

I take a step back. “You can’t have it all.”

“Yes,” he says, “I can. I will.”

A flicker of pain crosses his features. “You’re a star. With or without me, you fucking shine. Ten years from now, you’ll still be a star. And I’ll be alone.”

“I betrayed you,” I murmur.

There’s an empty flicker to his eyes. “You could stick a knife in my fucking chest, and I’d let you twist it.”

Pain slices through my chest. “You said you’d kill me.”

A bitter laugh escapes his lips. “I’d rather kill myself.”

“What more do you want?” I murmur, “You got your revenge. You—” My voice cracks, “You killed my father.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and in an instant, it’s gone. “Seeing the look on your father’s face when I took everything from him was what I woke up for every single day for the past five years. But when I stood there, watching you cry over his dead body, I felt nothing.”

I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding the heavy weight of his gaze. “My stepmother was right, you know,” I admit quietly. “Men like you will always choose revenge and power.”

“I’d give it all up to sit on a beach with you,” he says quietly.

And just like that, my heart turns to goo in my chest. No, no, no. I place my hands on my face and try to think rationally. “I’m going to have nightmares forever.”

His gaze is resolute. “I’ll wipe your tears away.”

My heart sinks. “How can I seek comfort from the man who murdered my father?”

“We never did things the right way.”

“How will … how will any of this ever be fixed?”

“We fight,” he says, “and we fuck, and we work it out.”

I scoff, glancing at the open airstrip.

“You said—” I say, my eyes burning with tears. “You said you should’ve chosen my sister over me.”

“Yes.”

I turn my gaze to him in disbelief.

“Because if she betrayed me the way you did,” he says, “I wouldn’t have given a single fuck. You have too much fucking power over me. I’d never feel this way with your sister.”

I frown. “What way?”

“I love you, Freya. I love you so fucking much it kills me. Is that what you want to hear?”

His words steal the breath from my lungs. I can barely breathe. And yet, he keeps talking. “A world without you is a life sentence.”

“Torren—” I manage.

“Every time you pushed me away,” he presses on, “It only made me want you more.”

I blink as tears line my eyes.

“Every time I wanted to kill you,” he says, “I wanted to kiss you twice as much.” He meets my gaze. “You began to grow on me. Like a mold.”

“Stop speaking,” I snap, “Stop it.”

“Take my fucking clothes,” he says, “Use my fucking bathroom. Do everything you want to do. But do it at my side.”

The ache in my chest spreads to every end-point in my body.

Torren reaches over, his touch on my jaw barely there. “When I say leave, I mean stay. Stay and hate me. Stay and torment me for the rest of my life. Just stay.”

Then, he lowers in front of me. He grits his teeth, the action no doubt causing pain to shoot up his torso. There’s blood blooming on his crisp white shirt, and the feverish flush to his skin.

Panic clawing up my throat, I reach over to help him, but he holds up a hand to stop me, digging in the pocket of his pants with the other. He pulls out the ring.

My ring.

The one I had on my finger for over three months.

The one I gave back to him.

“Marry me, little Morozov,” he says.

And then my heart falls out of my chest.

I’m frozen in place. It’s a while before I can do anything. When I regain the ability to move, I place the back of my hand to his forehead. It’s scorching. “You’re bleeding, and you have a fever,” I say, “You need to go to a hospital.”

He ignores me, his hand coming up to settle on my hip as he presses his forehead into my stomach. “Marry me.”

“One knee is asking,” I murmur, “Two are begging.”

He stays on his knees.

Without hesitation, I let myself crumble, falling to my knees against him. “Fine,” I say, “Fine. You win.”

His gaze flares, and now that I’m on my knees, too, he’s back to looking down at me.

With a trembling hand, I offer him my left hand. His touch is rough as he silently slides the metallic band sliding over my finger. My skin is covered in my father’s blood, just like the first time.

Before I can think too hard about it, I cup his face with shaking hands and press my lips to his. He staggers against my touch, stiffening. He adjusts quickly, though, groaning into my mouth.

And all I can think is—

Nothing. My mind is blank. Everything becomes a blur. My body is doing things on its own. It’s reaching over to him, our lips still connected, a fire burning there.

My hands find warmth at the nape of his neck— his are on the side of my face, the other buried in my hair, and it’s a slow, slow descent into heaven. The feel of his jaw is something else.

His lips are soft. My chest flush with his and we’re both gasping for air— fighting against this fervent addiction.

God this is so fucked up. What am I doing? What am I doing? Why can’t I stop?

He murdered your father.

But none of it matters. All that matters is now. All that matters is the way he parts my lips with his own, the way his slips his tongue into my mouth and uses my tongue to stifle his groan.

His rough hand slips under my top, grazing the skin of my midriff. He kisses me. Gently yet roughly, slowly yet with a fierce urgency.

“Freya,” he says into my mouth.

My heart is traipsing all over itself, blood rushing to every pressure point of my body, pooling below my torso, settling under the flesh of my cheeks. His skin is heating up under my fingers.

Torren curses as he tears away from me, leaving me breathless and disoriented. The world around us returns with a rush, the sounds of the empty night seeping back into my consciousness. His eyes are almost entirely black as they meet mine.

“Only God can take you away from me now, Freya,” he says, “Only God.”