Golden's Rule (26 page)

“Maybe. Maybe,” she offered.

“Just stay close.”

“I will, but don’t ask me to leave you.”

“I won’t.” Threading their fingers together, he kept her right next to him as they turned the corner. By all appearances the store was empty, the glass storefront repaired, only a small amount of glass on the grey dirty sidewalk left as proof of the assault.

“It looks like nothing happened.”

“Yes, whoever repaired it could still be here. Let me look around first, then we’ll go in closer.”

Her small hand tightened on his but he merely tightened his own, engulfing her hand in his bigger one. Inside he sensed movement, a few of the creatures, but then he found the witch. She was hurt, either left when the Death Stalkers gave chase to them, or left behind as punishment for failing to catch them, he couldn’t tell. Glancing down at Beauty, he knew she would. He had none of the empathy gift she had in spades.

“We go in. Keep your hand in mine. No matter what you see, don’t touch the witch. I want you to sense her though, her intentions. Can you do that and share it with me?”

She tilted her head, frowning up at him. “You think she is one of them.”

“There is no way to know, unless you catch them in action, who is who. The dark curse hides them as much as binds them to their vows.” He didn’t hide how much he hated taking her in there. She knew, but held just as firmly to her own beliefs. She was strong, his female. Pride slowly rose up, replacing some of his anger, his panic. “Stay close. Stay very close.”

She nodded, silent but willing to let him lead. One more scan and he took them around the back of the store where he sensed an easier opening, less revealed, at the least. The back door was partly open, the wood scarred, and aged with dirt. He nudged it with a foot and it swung open silently. Not a good sign. It should be closed. Shouldn’t it? Damn this place.

“Torque, please, just go in. She could be hurting…”

“Beauty, always we go in silently, quietly. Never hurry, sweet. Never.”

She gave him a mental sigh. The ice around his heart melted a little.
“Just follow my lead. I will. Just move so you can lead.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Torque.”

“All right, come on, just keep quiet, and keep yourself open so I can sense her.”

They manoeuvred around the surprisingly neat back room. The mayhem of the front of the store was missing. The back room had a simple couch arrangement, a table, shelves lined with some boxes and little else besides a neat kitchenette and desk. Beyond the beaded curtain, though, the hazardous display of wares lay in ruins.

Beauty tightened her small fingers on his hand, but stayed silent. Blood clouded the scent of the air with its metallic bite.

“She’s over there. On the floor. Hurt, Torque.”

“I see. Open to me. Let me see through your eyes
.”

The room faded to the background, the image of the witch was pure, clean of all taint, only the warm glow of pain clouded her aura.

“Come then, let us see what we can do.”

They moved silently to where the witch lay sprawled, her purple costume covered in bits of debris from the short battle. She was unconscious and most likely that was a blessing. Blood had dried on her face from a head wound. She looked pale, smaller somehow.

“Let me closer, Torque.”

Once again, he had to fight the need to hold her back. He allowed them closer, crouching down near enough to touch the female’s ashen features. “She lives. The crash of magic was hard. Let’s take her to the back. She’ll have a headache, a few sore spots, but she is simply sleeping now,” he said.

Grey eyes met his, worry clouded the green. “Torque.”

“You can see what you can do in the back.” Releasing her hand, he bent to scoop the surprisingly light female in his arms.

“Careful of her.”

“Beauty, I won’t harm her. Her shop is more dangerous than I am at the moment.”

“Torque.”

“Come on, open those damn beads. We need to go.”

Beauty parted the purple beads for him so they didn’t make a sound when he walked through.

“They will find our home, won’t they?” she asked anxiously.

“No, and if they did? There is no chance of them entering,” he answered, without looking up. Beauty kept herself open enough that he could sense her unease. He settled the female on the small couch, and stepped aside so Beauty could move in closer. “Just be quick, we need to go.”

She brushed one of her braids back over her shoulder and nodded, again silent. Things were not back to normal, not yet. He felt that through the bond. A chill from her.

He watched her sit down next to the witch and gently touch the other woman’s forehead. He had to restrain the urge to hurry her again as she took the time to check the other woman’s wound thoroughly. He had no idea Beauty could do this, but sensed she was using some instinct, as dangerous as that was, to find a way to heal the woman.

He was about to halt her when she sighed and straightened.

“She will be fine. I mended a few deep bruises and slowed the swelling on her brain, but she is well.”

Before he could say anything, she stood quietly and met his eyes. He wanted to wince at the soft censure there. She had known, or sensed from him his need to stop her from healing.

“You said we should go.”

“Yes, we should.” Holding out his hand, he hid his wince when she hesitated before taking it.

The pain he felt from her wasn’t going away with a few words. He’d hurt her deeply, more deeply than she was showing him.

She was his. But somehow, his words made her doubt that. His hand tightened on hers, drawing her into his embrace so he could breathe her in.

She was his. He wasn’t letting her go.

Chapter Eighteen

Beauty couldn’t sleep. She’d tried. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, but her worries, once Torque had drifted into sleep, had surfaced all over again.

Their bedroom showed up in greys and blacks from the low glow of moonlight coming in from the windows by the bed, but Beauty still had enough to watch Torque sleeping.

He sprawled comfortably, taking up more than half of blankets and all the spare room. There wasn’t an inch of him she’d not felt beneath her hands, her lips and body, and yet she still could become mesmerised by his sculpted form.

She loved him so deeply.

Yesterday had been hard. Not just his anger and harsh words, but the idea she might be drawing evil to them. To him. He’d said something yesterday that wouldn’t stop tossing around in her mind like a missing puzzle piece.

It was like someone had dipped him in rage. Like it wasn’t him but something outside of him.

Was that because, even though he denied it, he feared her leaving? More, he feared something taking her from him. Why? Why did he feel this anxiousness? This dread that she was going to disappear from him?

She could help him. She knew it. The bed barely dipped as she moved nearer to his warmth. She let her mind drift out from herself and down the bond they shared. Her breathing slowed as she went deeper. She was his bonded. She could see him, the witch had told her. She could see his wound, but reading from the text last evening, she had discovered more. She was an empath. They both knew that. But she could heal as well. Hunter had proved that. She’d not stopped and questioned how she’d known she could heal Hunter, she’d just done it. Now she took a breath and searched within herself, not her memories—those were gone—but inside at her own gifts. At first she sensed nothing, heard only the soft sound of Torque breathing and the low crackle of the fire in their hearth. Then, slowly, bit by bit she began to sense a glow, a light blue, clean and pure gift—magic, but not just her magic, healing magic.

Relief surged through her along with a huge dose of happiness. She could do something. Maybe not go out on missions, but she could heal, and not only heal, but she could sense wrongs within a person’s magic—like Hunter, but more, she could sense a disturbance, a marring of their being.

Now she sent her sight out, slowing her breathing so she could find that level called the healing trance. Slowly Torque’s body began to shimmer in her sight. He appeared golden and so strong she felt tears clog her throat. Golden with honour, integrity, and love. But beneath that—no, she thought—not beneath it, but marring it in places, was a darkness like ink, staining his aura.

Where did it begin and why was it there?

Torque sucked in a breath, snapping her concentration in two. She felt him tighten his hand on her knee, not painfully, but firmly.

“Beauty?” His deep voice was hoarse and husky from sleep reminding her of long, hot hours of sex.

She lost the connection and grumbled at him but shifted to her knees, taking his hand in hers.

“Torque…”

Where to start? How to tell him she was trying to aid him because she sensed he was tainted?

“What were you doing, Beauty?” He rolled over and pulled her hand to hold it tightly on his chest, dark brows drawn down in concern.

“I was trying to see you. I think…”
That you’ve been marred by evil.
Could she tell him that? This fiercely proud and honourable male? His scar caught her eye then and she stilled, her breath caught in her throat as a thought took root and grew in certainty.

Of course.

She grabbed his strong hand in both of hers and shook them. “Torque. The blade. It was poisoned, I know it was, that’s what is harming you, why you blew your top yesterday, why—”

“Whoa, wait a second, sweetheart, let a guy wake up. What are you saying?” he pulled a hand free to rub his face and sat up straighter.

She moved quickly and hugged his neck, pressing her body into his, and poured love into their bond. He sucked in a breath. Cautiously he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, too tightly, but she didn’t care. She poured how much she loved him in through their bond and told him, “
I love you so much, Torque. Let me heal you. Let me do this. For us.”

A muffled sound came from him, then love swamped her as he silently allowed her to sense his deepest emotions. He loved her. So completely, it was frightening.

“Let me do this, Torque. Let me try. The wound is the key. I think even…” She paused and pulled back to cup his strong jaw. His silver eyes were wet and shining with unshed tears. “The witch was part of it. They wanted the sword wound to turn you. When that didn’t work, the witch put a curse on you. After her curse, didn’t you start to treat women, think of women differently? Don’t you see? The smallest drop can topple the biggest stone. They wanted to make you evil bit by bit.”

Torque blinked rapidly and shook his head, clearly confused. “Beauty, what are you saying? No one knew of my need for sex.” He trailed off as his intelligent eyes narrowed. He was thinking so fast now she wanted to kiss him. Excitement raced through him, then slowly a deep, slow-burning anger. “Sonofabitch. Those fucking evil sons of—”

She covered his warm mouth with both of her hands and smiled. “Yes, dear, they were and are. But goodness, you swear like a sailor,” she scolded.

His anger slowed to that simmer she knew meant he was ready to listen again. She sensed the anger—his quick explosive temper—was part of the curse. The poison was working on him in ways she feared he’d not like. Ways she
knew
he’d not like.

“Let me see you. Heal this. I can.”

He pulled her hands off his mouth and sat up. “Beauty, first of all, how do you know this?”

“I just do.”

He snorted at that and shook his head.

“Do you trust me?” she countered, so excited she was nearly squirming with it. She needed to do this. Needed to heal him. The need felt like a pressure now, pushing down on her and demanding she do something. “I know. I just know, okay? But I need to do this. It… Torque, let me do this or I will never go down on you again,” she warned, using his favourite sexual act to force his hand.

“You’re my favourite, not what you do with that mouth of yours. You. Making you happy. Hearing you cry out my name. That’s my favourite. Your mouth is just icing, sweetheart.”

“Oh, Torque, I love you. I need this…it hurts, I need it so badly.”

She practically shoved all her excitement and anxiousness at him and watched him closely, only relaxing when his tight shoulders relaxed and he sat back against the headboard with a big sigh.

“You’re my bonded. I will do anything for you. For you,” he added, pulling her close and kissing her deeply.

“Will this harm you?”

“No, silly, now stop and let me heal you so we can make love again.”

“Beauty, I love you so damned much.”
Regret, pain, and shame filled him in equal measures with lust and love.

She pulled from his kiss and cupped his strong jaw. “Torque, don’t. It isn’t you. I knew it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t. I should have thought of this. You’re too pure. Too honourable and courageous to lose your temper that way.”

Surprise radiated through their bond.

“Stop stalling and let me do this. I want to do this. I need to, Torque,” she said when he merely squeezed her closer. With a deep sigh, he released her and met her eyes.

“Just don’t harm yourself. If I sense it…” he warned, his body tense with aggression.

“Of course,” she agreed quickly, pressing his hard chest back until he finally allowed her to settle him against the headboard again. His erection was huge, swollen, and jutting up past his navel, thick and needy, but he would simply have to wait. “And you need to calm that down.”

His soft smile was all male and sent shivers down her spine. “Beauty.” He breathed her name, gripping himself with a fist and making wetness flood her core so quickly she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning in pleasure. She loved it when he did that. It was so naughty and purely wicked to watch him stroke himself.

“I need you.”

“You do not!” She glared at him until he stopped with a grumble. He was trying to distract her. And they both knew it.