Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Michele Zurlo

After she finished with the kitchen and living room, she discovered another room that hadn’t been touched. Behind the kitchen was a library. The room was large and airy, yet cozy and inviting.

  Thousands of books were organized on shelves. Many of them were bound with leather. They bore evidence of having been handled often.

  Not a speck of dust could be found anywhere. Torrey perused the shelves to find the books arranged alphabetically by topic. Two thick volumes labeled simply “Witches” drew her attention. Forgetting her intention to clean Shade’s room next, she settled on an oversized chair whose comfortable cushion allowed her to sink deep.

  These weren’t the kind of books found in most libraries. Nothing like this would ever make it to a printing press. The first book was handwritten on paper so old it was nearly transparent. She ran her hand over it gently, reverently. This was the kind of rare volume of which librarians dreamed.

  Torrey had to read it under a bright lamp just to make out the words, and the fancy script made for slow reading. She’d never seen vellum before, but she was sure this was it.

  The second book was more recent. The blocky handwriting was easier to read, the paper was modern, and the ink wasn’t very faded.

  Both books were more like diaries. The first belonged to a male witch, and the second belonged to a female. Neither of them had names on them. It made sense that a witch wouldn’t record their name on something this important. It could give an enemy all the ammunition they needed to use against a witch.

  As far as she could tell, the male witch lived in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Many of the early entries mentioned slaves. It didn’t take Torrey long to determine that the male witch was sadistic. He practiced his spells on his slaves, using them in horrific experiments that involved lightning and spells forcing the slaves to do things that turned Torrey’s stomach.

  No wonder Shade was prejudiced against witches. The accounts made Torrey want to kill the man herself, though he had to be long dead. She stopped reading it.

  The second began in the normal manner. The witch had been given what she titled a “Book of Shadows” for her twelfth birthday. The early entries were childish. The girl cast charms on boys she liked and on various other school friends. It seemed her goal had been to be popular.

  Torrey skimmed and skipped pages. She found such an abuse of power distasteful. However, she did learn the difference between a charm and a spell. One relied solely on will, the other on ingredients and incantations. Several incantations were recorded in the pages, but Torrey had no desire to make anyone fall in love with her. Shade was a phenomenal lover, but she was little more than a job to him. When he found Riley, he would trade Torrey for her sister, and Torrey would go to her death.

  Unless…Was there something in one of those volumes that could help her against Soren?

  Toward the end of the diary, the entries began to get interesting. It seemed the girl, now a young woman, had her first encounter with a werewolf. She found him attractive, and she tried using a charm on him. From the physical description, the wolf sounded an awful lot like Shade. The charm failed.

  But the wolf seemed to find her effort amusing. Though he lived far away, he began showing up on the campus of the university she attended. She would find him leaning casually against a wall when she emerged from class. She ran into him at parties. Though her mother, who was her mentor, warned her away from wolves, the young woman found herself hopelessly enamored of Shade.

  He brought flowers singly instead of in bunches, a habit she found endearing. He took her to see movies, and he escorted her everywhere. She let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she was not in college for her “M.R.S.” She wanted a real degree, and she had no plans to marry until after she started her career as a doctor.

  Shade had no problem with her aspirations. He encouraged her. He helped her learn how to use her magic for healing purposes.

  Flashes of Shade came to Torrey as she read. In the hospital with her mother hadn’t been the first time he guided a witch in healing a human. Torrey wondered how Shade could have such an unconcerned attitude toward humans, yet he not only helped Torrey expel poison from her mother, he routinely helped this witch apply her skills to humans.

  The entries weren’t graphic, but Torrey had no trouble reading between the lines. Shade had loved this witch. The woman wrote of marriage and children, something both of them desired. They planned a future together. Torrey wondered what had happened to this woman. The diary had been written fifty-seven years earlier. Had Shade married her? Stayed with her until she died? Or had he abandoned her as she aged and he did not?

  Time between entries lengthened as she began her residency. The last entry was a letter.

  My Darling Shaden,

  I know you don’t understand my decision, and my actions will break both our hearts, but I feel I have no choice. Soren will not stop hunting me until I give him what he wants and my life is ended. He cannot help but crave my power. I’ve searched and searched, but I cannot find a way to rid him of his compulsion. (Or else I would have gotten rid of your compulsion as well. I know you secretly crave an apartment where everything is put away as much as I crave an apartment where my things stay in the drawers.)

  As a Daughter of Circe, I will be reborn. It will take some time for my energies to align, and for the moon to be right, but I will return to you. On this point, my dearest, you have my solemn oath. I will not be exactly the same. My looks and my name will be different, but I will be me, and I will find you. We will be together.

  Please don’t hold this against Soren; he hates what he does as much as we do. He is in pain. His Torment is great. If you hate him, the Torment will consume him, and he will kill himself (demons permitting). You are truly the only thing that matters to him. The two of you are connected in so many ways. You will also need one another to survive the coming battles, and there will be many.

  Take time to mourn, but rest assured, my love, I will return to you.

  Eternally yours, Hope

  Chapter 9

  Shade left Torrey’s side as soon as she fell back asleep. He wanted to make it to Soren’s house before his brother had a chance to get out of bed. Once Soren was up and about, he could be frustratingly difficult to find.

  The drive to Lyton wasn’t so very long, but doubt had time to cloud Shade’s mind. Torrey responded to his touch. She looked at him the same way Hope had when he first began courting her.

  That first, disastrous attempt to place a charm on him had only whetted Shade’s interest. Their courtship had stretched longer than he wanted due to her burning desire to become a healer. He couldn’t begrudge her that. Turning her into a wolf-witch was supposed to have been a wedding gift.

  A longer, healthier life for her to fill with healing.

  He had been certain Torrey was Hope, but when she approached him at that bar, she hadn’t remembered him. Daughters of Circe kept their memories from one life to the next. It’s one thing that helped them become such powerful witches. A mentor’s job was to provide training to jog their memories. By adulthood, everything was supposed to be intact. Torrey’s mentor hadn’t done a damn thing to help her access those memories. He had gone out of his way to keep knowledge of magic from her, to stunt her powers.

  She responded to his kisses, to his caress. She had been an active participant in their lovemaking. On some level, she had to remember him. Right?

  Shade hoped to hell she was beginning to remember.

  If she didn’t regain her memory, he was going to have to court her all over again. She was still the same woman, and so he didn’t mind. Part of him mourned her loss all over again. He wanted her to remember their first kiss, their first date, the first time they made love. Torrey was just as independent and just as driven to protect those she loved as she had always been. It destroyed her last time. He wasn’t about to let her do it again.

  He would return Riley to her. He would kill Soren if his brother got in the way. He couldn’t live a l
ife where he sacrificed the woman he loved over and over.

  Soren wasn’t at home. The massive stone house was empty and still. Shade prowled the grounds, covering every inch in search of Soren’s or Riley’s scent. It was just as likely for Soren to keep Riley near to him as it was for him to keep her in a cave somewhere in the mountains.

  Next, he returned to the house. There had to be evidence of Soren’s whereabouts somewhere. His demon was a fan of making solid plans. Shade let his guard relax. At times like this, his compulsion was an asset. He would search every nook in the house. The search would be fast and efficient, as well as messy.

  He started in Soren’s room. Beginning at Soren’s desk, Shade emptied it. Every item was automatically catalogued in his head, though comprehension wouldn’t come until later, after the compulsion passed.

  Since he didn’t know what he was looking for, the entire house would have to be ransacked before he would be able to stop.

  Four hours later, the place was a disaster. At Shade’s own home, he didn’t bother to put things in drawers or cupboards. He left everything out in the open in neat piles so that he could find things without his compulsion kicking in. When he cleaned out a drawer at Soren’s house, he threw the items over his shoulder after a brief look.

  Looking around with his hands on his hips, Shade felt the compulsion lose its grip on him. It came upon him suddenly, and it left just as quickly.

  Nothing. There was nothing that made any sense. No drawings or schematics or lists. The only thing he knew for certain was his brother did not have Riley in the village. If he was keeping her in the caves, they could be anywhere. The damn things dotted the countryside and went on forever.

  Closing his eyes, he ran a hand over his face. How could he return to face Torrey having found out nothing?

  What was the point of staying there when Alethea hadn’t left dinner? It meant Soren didn’t plan to return that day, and the housekeeper hadn’t expected Shade to appear.

  The drive back to his place was long and depressing. At least he would be able to spend some time with Torrey, to help her hone her magic.

  His house was silent, but it was filled with her scent. She had discovered the library. He smiled. Hope had loved to read as much as he had. Some of the books in there, like the medical tomes and those historical novels, had belonged to her. He hoped Torrey found enjoyment in them. He wondered if any of them would help her remember him, and what he was to her.

  He entered the house on stealthy feet and stopped cold. Scanning right to left, he exhaled sharply. She had cleaned the house. Hope had started out that way, too. After one of his fits, she would set to work cleaning up. Eventually, she stacked all of his things neatly against the walls and directed him to stay out of her drawers. She thought banning him from her private areas would keep her things safe, and she was right. Mostly. If he wanted something he knew was in one of her drawers, nothing could stop him from emptying each and every one of them.

  That was the primary reason he had given Torrey her own room. And it was her room. He had furnished it for her decades ago. He would have filled it with her things, but Hope’s family claimed everything of hers from their shared apartment. Because they hadn’t been married, the human’s law hadn’t been on his side.

  All he had left was her journal, some of her books, and a few pieces of jewelry. He would give them all to Torrey as soon as her memory of their time together returned.

  Shaking away guilt over the time she wasted cleaning those rooms, he made his way to the library. Lights blazed, though the fall sun filtered mightily through the trees, and Torrey slept.

  He watched her for the longest time. She was beautiful. Her goodness shone from the inside, rendering her so much lovelier than was physically possible. He thought it would be odd to love Hope in a body different from the one he knew so well. She had been smaller than Torrey, though average size for a human. Her features had been tinier and more delicate. She had also been very fair.

  He found it odd he could find such differing physical characteristics equally breathtaking. It wasn’t that Torrey’s body was the opposite of Hope’s, because it wasn’t. She was just different.

  Even in repose, Torrey exuded strength. Yet the shadow of her lashes on her cheeks lent her such a delicate air. He wanted to wake her with kisses, but he refrained. She didn’t know him. She didn’t understand he wanted to lock her in a room and make love to her until the end of time. She thought he merely wanted the use of her body. He was going to have to prove her wrong.

  His eyes fell to the book pressed to her stomach. The title was hidden by her hand, but it was a volume he knew well. He had spent many, many nights reading and rereading Hope’s diary. Her voice played in his mind as he read her words. He liked reliving her first impressions of him, especially when she first realized he was a wolf. She hadn’t been at all afraid, though her mother repeatedly warned her against Shade and anything having to do with wolves. She had been intrigued.

  Burning in his chest kept him from shaking her awake to find out if reading the journal had helped return her memory. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just to be disappointed. After waiting almost six decades for her to reappear, he found he could wait a few hours more. He sat in the matching wing chair and watched her sleep.

  After a few minutes, she murmured, shifted, and groaned. He didn’t know how long she had been asleep in the chair, but he was willing to help her work out any kinks she developed in that position.

  Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him, almost as if she knew he was there. “I thought you would be gone for longer. I was going to have dinner waiting for you.”

  The corners of Shade’s mouth twitched. Hope’s cooking hadn’t been all that good. “It’s a little early for dinner.” He indicated the sudden low growling of her stomach with the nod of his head. “Did you skip lunch?”

  “I had a late breakfast,” she said. Now that she was more alert, she sat up and leaned toward him. “Did you find Riley? Did you talk to Soren?”

  The way she said Soren’s name was different, softer. Though Soren had hunted Hope ruthlessly, she never hated him. He heard the same sympathy in Torrey’s voice now. Regretfully, Shade shook his head. “I’m going to head back over tonight. Soren keeps odd hours.”

  Torrey studied him silently. He would give anything to know what she was thinking. Was she wondering if he could, or would, help her? Was she remembering? Her next words dashed that hope. “I read Hope’s journal. I hope you’re not upset, Shade. It’s just that she knew so much. I wish I had a mentor like hers. I know her mother got on her nerves, but at least she cared. She encouraged her, and she supported her dreams.”

  The notes of apology and pleading in her voice meant she didn’t take a proprietary interest in the journal.

  “Nothing here is off limits to you. This is your home.” Our home. I built this for you.

  She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. That simple gesture never failed to arouse him.

  “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  He shook his head, refusing the apology. “Nobody broke in. The mess is my doing. You’re safe here.”

  A smile curved her lips. She tried to hide it, but she was unsuccessful. “Yes, I read about your compulsion in Hope’s journal. I meant I’m sorry I attacked you. I don’t know what got into me.”

  Torrey’s life had been turned upside down. Her sister was missing, and her mother died. A self-sufficient person, she was suddenly powerless to stop the forces creating upheaval in her life. She took it out on him a little. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I can take it.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Of course it isn’t.” Leaning across the small table between them, he took her hand. “I’m not upset with you, Torrey.”

  The scent of her arousal invaded his nose. Had this simple contact whetted her need? He felt his predatory instincts kick in. He couldn’t resist her if she was in heat. She shifted un
comfortably, but she didn’t try to remove her hand from his grasp.

  “Will you undress for me?”

  The question caught her unaware. She blinked at him. “What?”

  He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to focus that little bit of heaven. “You want me. I can smell it.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s gross, Shade. If you’re looking for a little action, there are better things to say.”

  “It’s not gross, Torrey. Nothing arouses me more than your scent. The moisture between your legs is the purest distillation of your scent. I want to taste you. I want to make you mine.”

  Her tongue darted out, licking at her lips. His jeans tightened painfully. Her hand slipped from between his and she looked away, this time biting at that lower lip. It swelled under the force of her abuse. He wanted his turn to lick and bite at her lips, to slide his tongue between them and taste her sweet mouth.

  “Torrey, if you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

  Her uncertainty vanished under the strength of his assurance. He didn’t understand why she was unaware of exactly how sexy she was. Rising to her feet, she crossed her arms over her torso to grasp the hem of her shirt with her fingers.

  “Are you sure about this, Shade?”

  There was something in her voice, but he couldn’t think just then. His eyes were glued to the place where a slice of her midriff peeked out at him. He nodded. “Undress for me, Torrey. Show me what is mine.”

  She threw her shirt into the chair she had just vacated. The rest of her clothes followed suit in short order. She didn’t tease him by disrobing slowly or by touching her body with slow strokes. He swallowed his question, knowing the answer lay in the fact she didn’t fully trust him. She didn’t know he loved her, and she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

  Standing before him, her body bared for his inspection, she unleashed protective and possessive instincts that ran far deeper than anything he’d felt before. If it was the last thing he did, if she never remembered their past, he would convince her she meant the world to him. Telling her she was Hope would ruin her faith in him. She had to know his feelings were for her, for the woman standing before him, shyly offering her body to him.