Haven 5: Invincible (8 page)

“Wait, wait, wait!” Galen jumped up and started waving his hands around to get everyone’s attention. “You”—He pointed right at Torren—“are one of the thirteen that originally sealed the book?”

“We all are,” Raith answered before Torren had the chance. “It is exceedingly rare for all thirteen to be born to the same family. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever happened before.”

“But your dad died fifteen years ago.” Kendall sat up a little straighter and frowned, obviously having trouble deciding how to word his question.

Torren understood, though, and took pity on the pixie. “My stepmother gave birth to our youngest brother, Indo, the night our father was executed.”

Galen’s mouth dropped open. “He’s only fifteen! Where is he? How could you just send him off on his own?” How strange that Galen would be concerned for someone he’d never met. Still, there was no need for the alarm. “He’s safe.” The kid had no idea who he was or who any of his siblings were, but he was safe.

Jory tilted his head, his blond hair falling over one shoulder as he wrinkled his nose. “You have a daddy brother. That’s gross.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Raith said with a mock shudder.

“Since I’m forty years older than Indo, I’m pretty sure he’s just my kid brother. Witches don’t really think in those terms, though. The reincarnation thing is weird, but Indo is very much my sibling and not my father.”

“How old are you?”

Torren realized it was the first thing Aslan had said in a while.

“Sixty-two,” he said cautiously. “The original circle doesn’t die from disease or old age, but we can be killed by other means.”
Nice going, jackass
, he chided himself when Aslan’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. Why couldn’t he have just answered with his age and left it at that?

“Are we done now?”

Without even checking with the others, Torren stood from his seat, lifting Aslan easily and cradling him in his arms. “Where would you like to go?”

“You know I can walk, right?”

Torren shrugged. “Yeah, so?” He knew Aslan wasn’t a child or an invalid, but he just liked having the man in his arms. He couldn’t remember their previous lives together, doubted his mate even understood what it all meant, but he definitely felt the connection. It was also an enormous relief to finally understand why he was acting like such a crazy person.

With a snort, Aslan shook his head and wrapped his arms around Torren’s neck. “You have a lot of explaining to do, so we should probably get something to eat first.” He pointed toward the door and clucked his tongue. “To the kitchen!”

The story had been interesting, but Aslan hadn’t understood a great portion of it. Since everyone else seemed to have been following along, he hadn’t wanted to look like an idiot. So he’d kept his mouth shut and hoped that Torren would explain it to him when they were alone.

After storming into the kitchen and ordering everyone out like he owned the place, Torren had provided that alone time in grand fashion. “That was really rude,” Aslan chastised his mate. “They were just doing their jobs.”

“You looked like you needed to talk, and I didn’t think you’d want an audience.” He was completely unrepentant about his behavior as he began pulling things out of the refrigerator to make them sandwiches. “Go ahead and ask me anything. I have no secrets from you.”

“How come you don’t look that old?” As far as he knew, witches were not immortal. Yet Torren said he couldn’t die of old age.

“Why do you bother asking questions? You’ll never understand
it.”

Taking a deep breath, Aslan did his best to push the voice away and ignore it. Now was not the time for him to be distracted.

“It’s part of the curse,” Torren answered without turning away from the counter. “Our bodies stop aging when we reach however old we were at the time our souls were split. I was twenty-six. What else would you like to know?”

Hoping Torren wouldn’t think he was a complete moron, Aslan blurted the most pressing issue on his mind. “I didn’t understand a word about this Twin Flames thing.” He didn’t even know where to start asking questions, either. None of it made sense to him. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was clueless.

“Well, of course you are.”

Aslan didn’t even bother putting up a fight with the cold, heartless voice. What would be the point? “I’m sorry,” he said to Torren. “I don’t mean to be so stu—”

He cut off abruptly when Torren growled and slammed the mustard down on the counter with enough force to crack the bottom of the plastic bottle. Then he was across the kitchen and in Aslan’s face before he even knew what was happening.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. Am I understood?” His eyes flashed fire, and heat rolled off of him in waves.

Aslan swallowed hard. His pulse tripped into overdrive, his palms began to sweat, and every muscle in his body quivered with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t afraid of the giant towering over him, but something inside him responded to the steel-laced command in Torren’s tone—something connected straight to his cock.

“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, trying like hell to keep from panting. “I understand.”

Torren’s eyes softened, and he caressed the side of Aslan’s face with his fingertips. “Better.”

Shivering in delight from his mate’s touch and the fact that he’d pleased the man, Aslan wrapped his fingers around Torren’s wrist and pressed his face into the huge, soft palm, nuzzling his cheek against it.

He loved that Torren was so much bigger than him. It made him feel safe and protected, as though nothing in the world could hurt him while he was surrounded by Torren’s strength.

“I’ve really missed you.” It was a strange feeling, but he felt it all the same—like part of him had disappeared and only now returned. “I don’t understand any of this.” His eyes popped open wide when Torren growled at him. What had he done wrong now? “Torren?”

“Maybe I should have qualified my statement earlier. I never want to hear you talk about yourself in a negative way, and I don’t want to feel it, either. This is a lot, Aslan. Anyone would be spinning from all of it right now. Just because you don’t understand, it does not make you less intelligent than anyone else.” It should have occurred to him that if he could feel Torren’s emotions, then the same would be true in reverse. He couldn’t help how he felt, though. What did the man want from him? He’d promised that he wouldn’t speak his concerns aloud. That’s the best he could do, though.

As though reading his mind, Torren sighed, scooped Aslan into his arms, and settled him in his lap as he sat in Aslan’s now-vacated seat. “Now, you listen to me, Aslan…” He trailed off and frowned. “I don’t even know your last name.”

Aslan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I stopped using it when my parents sold me to that vampire coven.”

“When was this?”

“A couple of years ago, I guess. I was sixteen.” Torren’s face took on a pinched look and his eyes creased in the corners. “Please tell me that you’re eighteen.” He sounded choked and maybe even a little sick.

Rolling his eyes, Aslan leaned forward and pressed their lips together as he straddled Torren’s massive thighs. “I’ll be twenty next month.”

To his surprise, Torren closed his eyes and groaned. “So young,” he whispered as though it was painful for him to speak the words.

Deciding that line of thinking had gone far enough, he reached between their bodies and pressed his palm to Torren’s zipper, giving his soft cock a nice, gentle squeeze. “Not that young,” he said in what he hoped was a seductive purr.

He guessed he’d gotten it right when Torren’s eyes popped open, blazing with unhidden lust.

“You know what they say about playing with fire, baby.”

Grinning mischievously, Aslan leaned forward again, tickling the seam of Torren’s lips with his tongue, coaxing the man to open for him. “No, but I hope it means I’m going to get a blow job in the kitchen.”

Torren’s breathy chuckle parted his plump lips, and Aslan took full advantage, sweeping his tongue inside his mate’s mouth. It was hard to tell who groaned louder when their tongues met and twined, but it didn’t really matter. Winding one arm around his waist, Torren fisted his other hand in Aslan’s short hair, holding him still so he could take the kiss deeper.

Content to submit to his mate’s dominance, Aslan relaxed his body, melting against Torren’s chest and moaning softly at the intense pleasure that seemed to burn him from the inside out. Drowning in the taste of his mate, reality warped, turning him upside down so that when he finally came up for air it was to find himself sans his shirt.

The button on his jeans popped open with a skilled twist of Torren’s long fingers. His zipper followed quickly as his cock swelled and strained, pressing against the soft denim in its bid for freedom.

Torren’s quiet, growling moan filled his mouth as his soon-to-be lover extracted his aching dick and stroked it lightly from base to helmet. The act felt familiar, as though they’d done it a thousand times before, and Aslan jerked in Torren’s embrace, flexing his hips so that his length slid through his mate’s fist.

“More,” he begged, clutching at the fabric of Torren’s sweater and dragging it over his head, needing to feel the hot, hard muscles beneath his palms.

Instead of heeding his plea, Torren released his cock, jerked Aslan’s head back on his shoulders, and attacked the sensitive skin along his throat while he lifted him onto the table. Following him up, Torren kept one arm around his waist, holding him in an inclined position and placing himself between Aslan’s knees.

Very gently, Torren eased him back on the table and kissed a slow path down Aslan’s chest, leaving a trail of liquid heat in his wake. His tongue swirled around Aslan’s navel and dipped inside while he worked Aslan’s jeans off his legs and tossed them to the floor.

Sitting back in his chair, he gripped Aslan’s calves and pulled him forward, sliding him to the edge of the table. “Spread your legs, baby.”

Shivering and panting, he did as instructed, looping his elbows under his knees and opening himself to his lover’s gaze. The new position made him feel exposed and vulnerable, but when Torren hummed in approval, the anxiety ebbed just as quickly as it had come.

Two thick fingers traced his bottom lip then tapped at it. Opening instantly, Aslan captured Torren’s digits in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and sucking hard. His back bowed and a strangled moan rose up from his chest when his mate palmed his heavy erection once more, squeezing it in rhythmic movements that made his asshole clench greedily.

“That’s it,” Torren praised him. “Get them good and wet.” His soft hair tickled the inside of Aslan’s thighs just before incredible moist heat surrounded the head of his cock. Torren swirled his tongue around the crown then flicked at the bundle of nerves just under the ridge, sending Aslan into a tailspin of need.

Sucking harder on his lover’s fingers, Aslan rocked as much as his position would allow, driving his throbbing dick deeper into Torren’s welcoming mouth. Wading through his blinding lust, an errant thought slipped into his muddled brain, reminding him not to thrust too deeply. Torren had a horrible gag reflex.

Confusion cooled some of his ardor. How the hell did he know that?

Then it all ceased to matter when Torren’s fingers slid from his mouth and pressed against his fluttering hole, ringing the muscles with gentle but steady pressure. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, Aslan still couldn’t stop his gasp when those spit-soaked digits pushed into his clenching channel and began pumping lazily.

The burn was minimal, the pressure intense, and the pleasure mind numbing. His lover’s free hand gripped the base of his cock, sliding and twisting in an upward spiral until his fist met his lips.

Over and over, Torren worked the rigid flesh in his mouth, moaning and growling while he continued stretching Aslan’s entrance.

Jerking and spasming, Aslan made sounds he’d never heard issue from his own lips before. When the next inward glide sent Torren’s fingers brushing over his prostate, Aslan squeezed his eyes closed, arched his back, and shouted to the ceiling.

While Torren’s hand kept stroking him, his mouth disappeared, leaving the torrent of warm cum spurting from Aslan’s cock to splash over his belly. Coming down from his orgasmic high, his body still quaking in aftershocks, Aslan peered down between his legs to see a very self-satisfied smirk on his lover’s ruggedly handsome face.

Releasing Aslan’s still-hard cock and easing his fingers from his hole, Torren pushed his khakis off his hips, scooped the cooling cum from Aslan’s belly, and used it to slick his engorged shaft. Renewed desire slammed into Aslan, and he licked his dry lips while his cock throbbed painfully as though he hadn’t just had the orgasm of his life.

The confident grin on Torren’s face was wickedly arousing as he lifted his hand and crooked one finger. “Come here,
caro
.” Apparently, he didn’t move fast enough, because in the next instant, he was hauled into Torren’s lap, the thick head of his lover’s cock poised at his opening. Their mouths crashed together, carnal and savage while Aslan lowered himself over Torren’s length, feeling his inner walls strain to accept his mate’s thick girth.

He was so full, completely filled, and it was heaven. The ache in his ass, his balls, and his pulsing dick combined and exploded into an inferno of all-consuming pleasure. Flames of erotic desire licked at his skin, crawling over his body and engulfing him in their passionate embrace.

Instinct took over, and he began to rise and fall, flexing his thighs and bracing his hands on the table behind him as he impaled himself on Torren’s cock. His head fell back on his shoulders, a high keening noise ripping from his throat when his mate’s hands began roaming his chest and tugging at his pebbled nipples.

Then those strong hands moved to his hips, grasping him firmly and encouraging him to move faster. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my cock.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging into Aslan’s flesh as he began thrusting upward, driving into Aslan’s ass in lightning-quick strokes.