Golden's Rule (31 page)

“Torque. What’s wrong?”

He nearly couldn’t answer Sorcha, but finally managed to say, “I need you. I need your healing gift.”

A pause, then, “Right, that seems to be in demand. Where?”

“My home. I’ll set the wards for you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Her low, soft voice filled him with more reassurance than he wanted to admit. Sorcha was always giving, so much so he’d given her nothing but grief over it, but she’d always given him a look like someday he’d get a clue. He had a clue.

He needed Beauty awake. Awake and not hurting. Blood wet his arm, he cussed so long and loudly. Jaxon stalled with a towel when they met up in the hall.

“I’m out of here. Tell the crew we have answers, but not today. Not today.”

“Anything you want, man. Anything.”

Nodding, he gently settled Beauty more firmly against his chest and hit the portal.

He wanted her. Awake and unharmed.

* * * *

“She’s fine, Torque. Hurt, yes, I know. But not to any degree that will damage her.” Sorcha repeated.

Jaxon sighed heavily and slumped into the chair by the bed.

Torque blew out a breath. “Why did this happen? Did you sense the spell?”

“I have no idea why, but yes, I sensed the binding. It won’t be easy to break, and that’s if you even can. Until then…” Breaking off, Sorcha turned to look at Beauty again.

“Until then?”

He saw her frown and twist her lips in a grimace. Not good. Not good.

“Shhh, it’s just she…”

“Sorcha, the heavy pauses are pissing me off,” he said.

One delicate eyebrow quirked up and she blew out a frustrated-sounding breath. Hands on hips she gave him a once-over before saying, “She’s a Jade Witch. Did you know this?”

Jaxon shifted behind Sorcha but didn’t speak.

Torque shrugged.
Holy shit.
So she was a Jade witch? Eyes on his woman, sleeping peacefully now her wounds all healed, he shook his head. “I thought maybe, but wasn’t sure. Then we got so busy with the raid and…things.”

“Well, she is. Well, sorta.”

He caught a worried look before she shook her head again. “It’s like this. Some of our coven work as independents, not more than casual members, but they still have the flavour of our alliances. She isn’t familiar to me, but she’s one of ours. Weak, mixed blood a bit, but still there.”

Weak? He must have scowled because Sorcha laughed. “Not weak as in weak, your mate is very strong, extremely strong or she’d have died long ago.”

He didn’t like the word ‘dead’ in a sentence with Beauty and shot the witch a warning look for it. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, let’s see. Her memory is being tied up by some nastiness, there’s a safety net surrounding and protecting her, and her empathy gift is the strongest healing gift I’ve ever seen. Add to that she’s obviously been tortured and that torture is somehow tied into the binding on her memories, and yet, here she is. Strong, healthy, and from what I’ve heard”—tapping her pursed lips, she narrowed her eyes at him—“kind and gentle. So, either she is one very forgiving witch…” She made that sound doubtful. “Or she’s very, very strong. And her bond to you is…very strong.”

Huh.

Jaxon stood as if to leave. “I’ve got to go, too, Torque, unless you want me to stay, man?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Jaxon. I mean it.”

“Any time, you know that. It’s just…” he broke off and rubbed a hand through his hair and Torque frowned. “I have to check on some things. You know.”

Ah, the girl, Joey.
“Yes, of course. Please, go. I’ll call with an update.”

Jaxon nodded. “Later, then. Sorcha.”

“Jaxon.” Sorcha nodded and tilted her head, watching Jaxon shift out of the room. Even after he was gone she stared after him. “He’s up to something, isn’t he?”

Torque shrugged when she looked at him. He wasn’t saying a word about Jaxon and his human. Not yet, maybe never. “I’m sure he has things to do. So do you, I’m sure. Thank you for coming, Sorcha.”

“I want to check in on her again. Call me for any reason. Any.”

“Did you hear of the raid?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Yes, but that is merely a blip. You and I both know the cell wasn’t the head of the beast. Merely one extension of the whole. I fear cutting it off will only have dozens more sprouting up.”

“Hydra.”

Sorcha nodded at his reference to the mythical Greek monster. Who would be their Hercules, then?

“Funny, I wonder. But that raid was quick. Not that it hasn’t struck a painful blow, but I worry it will also start a progression of events we aren’t ready to meet.”

He worried the same. When he wasn’t out of his mind over Beauty. If she would only wake the—

“Torque, do you always have to swear so? I think my next rule will be no swearing.”

His heart tripped to a stop. “
I’m spanking you.”

“What? I earned some brownie points?” He’d never heard anything as beautiful as Beauty’s rough-from-sleep voice teasing the hell out of him.

“Damn, sweetheart, you scared the—”

He found himself pulled into a warm embrace, nearly crushing her in turn, before Sorcha cleared her throat and ended their little reunion.

“We have company. Try not to swear so much. Why am I in bed?” Beauty demanded. She pulled away from him and straightened the bedding like the Queen of Sheba.

Sorcha laughed and sat on the other side of their bed. “I’m not offended. Torque has a very colourful vocabulary. I’m Sorcha and I’ve heard of you, Beauty. It seems I owe you thanks for saving and healing one of my own. Hunter had nothing but good to say of you.”

“Hunter?” Beauty tried to sit up but when Torque saw her arms trembling, he jerked two pillows behind her and settled her back. Maybe a bit too rough, because both witches stared at him. Beauty huffed a laugh and took his hand. He held her tenderly, afraid to touch her.

“Oh, please. I won’t break.”

“You scared the shit out of me. Never do.”

“Torque, it’s very impolite to mind speak when others are in the room. It’s like speaking Old Sumerian when no one can understand.”

Beauty coloured and smiled. Her hands were cold.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I forget so often,” she said.

Sorcha shrugged and said, “It’s only natural. You two are new to your bond.”

It wasn’t a question, but Beauty nodded. “Yes, but it’s strong.”

Torque felt a bit like the conversation had suddenly turned tense. Beauty seemed oddly on guard with Sorcha, and her response had a bit of a cautious bite in it that he recognised as her temper heating.

He tightened his grip on Beauty’s small hand but she didn’t glance away from the silent battle rolling on between her and Sorcha.

Finally, Sorcha nodded. “I can see that. And you’ve healed him. And Hunter. Tabithia thinks you are strong. Well, actually, she thinks you’re insane to bond Torque.”

Why did that sound like she had a ‘but’ in there? Frowning, he narrowed his eyes on Sorcha.

“Sorcha, thank you for your help. Should you be going?” Beauty suggested, shocking the shit out of him. He jerked at glance to see she hadn’t glanced away from Sorcha.

Sorcha laughed lightly and tilted her head. “I would, but first, I think we need to talk alone. Beauty—that isn’t your name, is it?”

“Oh, hell no. You’re not talking without me—”

Beauty’s other hand came up to cover his reassuringly. Almost possessively, he thought.

“Torque stays. No, Beauty is not my name, but I like it. Torque likes it, so it’s Beauty.”

He stared at Beauty for a full minute. She was defending him? And sounded like she was going to say more but stopped. She was pissed. At Sorcha? He suddenly felt like he was a little boy peeking in the keyhole while his parents discussed adult things.

“And you realise you are without your memory because there is a spell binding your memories that only can be broken by killing the mage, or having him remove the spell? This is why you were hurt. Something triggered your memories, and when that happens? The spell kicks in a painful burst of—”

Beauty made a cutting gesture with her hand and said, “Enough. I know. And this means?”

Mouth open to say something, he blanked and closed it. Sorcha eyed Beauty like she’d just knocked her down a peg or two. And she had. No doubt, Sorcha had thought to jostle Beauty a bit to see…what?

“You’re good. Very good. But your soul is tainted. The spell binding you is intense. It will grow. You’re strong, but not strong enough that it won’t chip away until you can do nothing but fall. You saw what evil can do when you cured Torque. I’m guessing you recognised the evil stain on his soul because you have one as well.”

“What are you talking about?” He’d jumped up and was yelling before she’d even finished.

Beauty didn’t glance at him. She focused on Sorcha. He felt it then, or sensed it. Power. Something was up between the two witches and he wasn’t allowing it.

“Sorcha, you need to leave. Now.”

Neither woman looked at him.

Sulphur and thunderstorms clouded the air. Fisting his hands, he tried to read Beauty but she’d blocked him. Eyes flashing to the lightest, almost silvery green, her brow lowered in a frown. Sorcha merely sat and met her eyes, hers not shifting colour, but he could sense her power, the flow of it deep, so deep he doubted she’d ever tapped the bottom.

“How do you know there was a curse on Torque?”

Sorcha raised a shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t. Not until I saw him again and sensed the difference.”

“Then how do you know that I have a curse?”

For a minute, he luxuriated in her badass brain, then jerked out of his daze. “Enough, Sorcha. Beauty isn’t cursed and she isn’t evil. Cut the shit.”

Sorcha’s lips twitched as if she was suddenly fighting a grin. “Fine, fine. You’ve always been so bossy. Good luck, Beauty, with that one.”

“Oh, I have it handled. We have rules.”

His stomach did a nosedive. If she so much as breathed a word about their little rules, he’d—

“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.