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

by Michele Zurlo

  The affection was real, and that fact startled Shade. Both of them actually liked one another. This was going to be more difficult than he realized. Soren’s charm would be that much more powerful because Riley wanted to believe the fantasies he planted in her head. Great. Torrey was going to be pissed.

  Riley asked polite questions as the meal began. She wanted to know where Shade lived, and what he did for a living. She mentioned the weather, and then she broke off sharply.

  “I forgot the drinks.”

  As she rose to get them, Soren waved her back down. “You’ve done enough, honey. Shade will get the wine.” To Shade, he said, “Choose something festive. Let’s break out the good stuff.”

  Shade headed downstairs, to the part of the house that had been carved from the solid limestone rock that ran in large veins through the entire area. With no great care, he grabbed a bottle of wine and headed upstairs. If Soren really wanted to impress his guest, then he needed to remove the charms and do it honestly.

  The rest of the meal progressed well. Shade said little. Every thought floating through his head centered around Torrey. He felt sorry for Riley. Her mother was dead, and she didn’t even know it. Telling her would set off Soren’s demons. Despite his words to Torrey, he wanted to settle this peacefully. He didn’t want to kill Soren unless there was no other alternative. There were still ten days until the first full moon.

  After they ate, Riley served coffee. He knew it wasn’t poisoned because they all drank from the same pot. However, he felt the ill effects of something. Numbness permeated his mouth and chest. His thoughts were fuddled, and time began to bend.

  Staggering to his feet, he knew he had to leave before Soren locked him in one of those stone rooms for the next eleven days. He had to get to Torrey. He had to protect her.

  A strong hand closed around his elbow. Looking down, he saw it matched his own hands. Except for their coloring, he and Soren were remarkably the same.

  “Hey there. You look like you’ve had a little too much wine.”

  Shade faced Soren squarely. “This wasn’t the wine. You did this.” His brief absence from the table flashed through his head. The trip to the wine cellar should have been an obvious omen. Wolves were susceptible to so few herbs, all of them well known to Soren. “You did something to my food.”

  “Why don’t you come and lie down?” Soren said. “I kept your room exactly the same for you.”

  With a feral growl, Shade ripped his arm from Soren’s grip. Silver stained his eyes, and his teeth elongated. He needed to get himself under control. If he turned into a wolf tonight, he would head straight for Torrey. In his drugged state, he might resort to instinct and hurt her.

  He didn’t remember leaving Lyton, and he didn’t remember how he got home. His only coherent memory was the fright in Torrey’s eyes when he fell through the front door and into her arms.

  Chapter 13

  She dropped him. Not because she wanted to drop him, but because he was too heavy. It was either that, or they would both crash to the floor.

  She crouched beside him to search his body for wounds. She found nothing. His skin, always warm to the touch, burned, and his breathing was labored. She pressed her wrist to his forehead. His lids opened and he stared, glassy-eyed, at her.

  “Bastard drugged me. I got away before he could lock me up.” The words were slurred and mumbled, but Torrey made them out.

  “What kind of drug, Shade? Maybe I can help.”

  His grip on her arm was weak, and the little bit of coherence he managed disappeared as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Raising her arms as she had in the hospital, she commanded the water in his body. She visualized it flowing through membranes, pushing the poison out of his body. Nothing happened.

  It took some pushing and shoving and more face-slapping than she liked, but Torrey got Shade up the stairs and into his bed. They both dripped with perspiration. Shade’s was from the fever; hers was from the physical exertion.

  For her entire life, Torrey had been as tall as or taller than the majority of people she met. This was the first time she ever empathized with what life must be like for short people. Shade was a big man. Everything from his build to his attitude made him seem invincible. As she took a minute to catch her breath, she watched him labor to breathe, and she realized just how fragile life really was.

  She disappeared into the bathroom to wet some towels. She stripped him down and sponged his skin with cool cloths.

  “You’re going to get through this, Shade. You’re going to be alright. Soren wouldn’t do anything that would kill you.” As she worked to cool him down, she prayed her words were true. In that moment, when losing him suddenly became a very real possibility, she admitted to herself she loved him, that something deep inside her had always loved him.

  She cleared off a chair and pushed it closer to the bed. Sleep came in fits and spurts that first night. Every move Shade made, every moan, jerked Torrey fully awake. She would search him for some sign, some clue, something to indicate he had turned a corner.

  Morning found her awake and exhausted. She managed to get him to swallow some water, but that was all. Toward mid-morning, he slipped into a deep sleep.

  Torrey climbed in bed next to him and slept fitfully before exhaustion claimed her. When she woke, it was evening. Her neglected stomach growled. Next to her, Shade hadn’t moved. He was no longer sweating, but she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. At least if he was sweating, then maybe the poison was being worked out.

  She made broth, but she couldn’t rouse him to eat. For three days, he neither moved nor drank anything. She needed to get the poison out of his body. He needed to wake up to drink something, or he would die of dehydration long before the poison killed him. She combed his library, but she came up empty. Desperation drove her to the slave owner’s journal and his disgusting rituals.

  Skimming the beginning, she skipped all the parts about the witch’s obsession with finding werewolves and vampires. He gave up on vampires, declaring them objects of fiction and delusion. But he managed to capture a werewolf.

  May 16

  The female is monstrously big. No proper human woman would so much as consider growing to such an unnatural size. It is rumored to give birth in litters, which is also an evil and unnatural occurrence, fit only for animals. This proves my theory that werewolves are animals, not human, and therefore should not be accorded rights and privileges of a human. They are soul-less beings, useful only for purposes of study.

  Being shape-shifters, they are also creatures of magic. I postulate that it is possible for a powerful witch, such as myself, to transfer the magical abilities of these creatures to another magical being. Logic tells me that, in the hands of a sentient, soul-bearing being, the shape-shifting abilities will not be limited to the wolf form.

  It is my opinion that ancient stories of witches and their familiars are tales of witches who have taken magic from the shape-shifters. I shall attempt to replicate the same feat here.

  I cannot risk my only sample. I must capture a male. In the natural course of time, they will mate and produce offspring. It is from these progeny that I will successfully complete my experiments.

  A sickening presentiment clenched Torrey’s stomach. Except for the part where the witch planned to force the wolf to reproduce, this was exactly what Soren planned to do to her. Only it wasn’t an experiment. Soren knew exactly what to do. Had wolves discovered how to steal power before witches?

  Both Shade and Soren had abilities that were not native to werewolves. They could cast charms, which were primitive spells. Torrey knew of no witches who could shape-shift.

  She flipped ahead, skipping the witch’s accounts of his hunting forays. At last, she found where he captured a male.

  September 22

  The male is even larger than the female, which was to be expected. It is the reason I cast so many charms in my trap. I’ve knocked him senseless and done the necessary examinat
ion to make sure this specimen is male. If I had captured another female, it would have been prudent to keep both. Males of all species like variety. It is the natural order of things.

  He is magnificent, even if he is evil and unnatural. Where the female is a dull brown, the male is a multitude of colors, mostly silver, white, and black. I have reason to believe this is but a juvenile. This bodes well for my purposes. Juveniles of all species are eager to procreate. I, myself, have sired several offspring, mostly before the age of twenty. Of course, they are not suitable progeny and are better left to their fate.

  The sick feeling returned. Torrey had no doubt the witch had captured Shade. The inevitable conclusion would be the death of the witch. She couldn’t imagine Shade calmly walking away from this horrible experience. Skimming over accounts of more experiments on slaves, Torrey found where he began discussing Shade and his companion in bondage.

  September 30

  The male is definitely a juvenile. In his humanoid form, he defers to the older female, treating her as an aunt or a grandmother. In human form, the female is attractive. She appears to be around twenty-five years old, but the ages of wolves are deceiving. The male, a strapping specimen that has even attracted the notice of several female slaves, appears to be around sixteen. I hope this does not mean he lacks sexual maturity. I cannot wait much longer. I have directed them to mate, but they have thus far refused.

  The male challenges my authority. He growls and prowls his cage. If the charms ever fail, I have no doubt he will kill me.

  Yasmine, one of my more exotic purchases, informs me that a scratch or a bite from a werewolf will infect me with the disease. She imparted this information during a beating, and in the form of a threat, but I think the theory bears further inquiry.

  More experiments with slaves. This time, Torrey did not skip them because they involved Shade and the woman whose name wasn’t disclosed.

  October 12

  I have forced a transformation. It appears moonlight is a necessary component of change for this species. I was able to induce the transformation only under its unholy light. By tossing slaves toward the cages and into the area of the charm, I was able to expose them to injury. I had to provoke both wolves, and it has taken several days for them to calm down, but it was worth the effort.

  Sixteen slaves were infected. Three have died from their injuries. The fever is upon the rest of them. Yasmine practices her voodoo, thinking she is casting spells of protection around herself, but she has no power. It is nothing more than a futile wish. I did not expose her, as I may need her knowledge later. Additionally, she is an attractive filly, and she no longer fights me.

  October 19

  I watch the slaves, but a week has passed and nothing has happened. The moon approaches fullness. I am hopeful that the full moon will bring my plan to fruition. I have chained the slaves and cast charms around the cabin where I keep them, just in case.

  Yasmine begs me to call the poison from their bodies. She recognizes and fears my power, yet she has the temerity to suggest I put an end to my experiments. Even if I was predisposed to be sympathetic to these creatures, I would not waste my strength and talent healing them. That kind of Calling is simple, yet draining. It would kill me to heal all of these heathens.

  October 23

  Disaster has struck. Howling drew me to the cabin late last night. Each of the thirteen slaves were in the midst of transformation. The process was fascinating to watch. First, the eyes turned silver. Teeth elongated, and claws formed, both on the hands and the feet. Bone shapes changed. Muscles contracted or elongated.

  The transformation, which did not produce signs of pain in the werewolves, appeared exceedingly painful. The howling was a modified screaming; the vocal cords were among the first organs to change. At least I no longer had to listen to the begging.

  Then the unthinkable happened. As the slaves changed to a wolf form, most of them fell to the floor, completely dead. Of the original thirteen, only two survived this process. If I choose to make more wolves this way, the experiment will be very costly, indeed. The smaller slaves were the first to die. Only the largest and healthiest survived.

  Yasmine, upon seeing the carnage, obtained a kitchen knife and killed herself. I am upset. I purchased her from Egypt. She was expensive, the cost easily twice that of a normal slave, as I had to have her smuggled into the country. It will be awhile before I do that again. Though, she did point my research in a new direction. I guess the monetary loss was worth it to gain this new knowledge.

  I will begin my experiments tonight.

  The entries stopped after that. Torrey blinked at the empty yellow pages that followed. Shade had escaped. Had his companion? What happened to the two slaves who were changed to werewolves?

  In the quiet light of the afternoon, she watched Shade and let tears flow down her cheeks. He was so pale. His pasty white skin stood out in sharp contrast to his black hair and brows. The stubble covering his cheeks and neck hadn’t grown since he’d been sick. The skin there took on a deathly grey pallor.

  The man she loved was at death’s door.

  In a daze, Torrey dragged herself to the kitchen for a meal and forced herself to shower. Traditional methods of caring for the sick were ineffective in this case. Torrey realized she needed to get her strength up so she could attempt a Calling spell. The witch had said they were simple, but that they required much strength.

  She climbed into bed with Shade, curled her body against his much warmer one, and willed herself to sleep.

  She needed her strength.

  Chapter 14

  His eyes were open when she woke. Their blue was lighter than she’d ever seen them, but they were nowhere close to turning silver. He smiled at her. The first light of dawn streaked through the windows.

  “I love watching you sleep. You’re so beautiful.” His fingertips traced a path over her cheek, caressing her jawline. Heat burned into her, branding his touch into her skin. “So incredibly lovely. I love you. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I feel this to my very soul. I knew it from the moment I first saw you.”

  Torrey’s breath caught. She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming, yet his fingers were rough on her skin, and he was so very pale.

  “Shade.” It was a whisper, a prayer, and a plea. “You’re awake.”

  “Of course I’m awake.” His smile was lazy and sleepy. The hand that trailed down her arm and over her hip was wide awake. “I want to make love to you.” When he kissed her, his lips were firm and knowing. He lit a desperate fire. “Let me make love to you, sweetheart. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  She wanted that. Torrey had been in love once before, but even that had been nothing like what she felt for Shade. She was connected to him in a way she had never been connected to another soul. He knew her in a way nobody else could, and she knew him the same way. She kissed him back and let her hand roam his wide, chiseled chest.

  He was already naked. After she had stripped his clothes away that first night, she had no energy left to wrestle him into clothes. Plus, it was easier to give him sponge baths this way. In seconds, his adept hands maneuvered the long T-shirt from her body. He pushed back the covers to caress her with his eyes and his hands.

  “Beautiful, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. I can’t stop looking at you. When I close my eyes, I see you, smiling up at me.” One hand slid from her thigh, over her hip, and up to cup her cheek. His gaze penetrated her very being. “I want to be with you always. Tell me you want that, too.”

  Torrey lifted a hand to his beard-roughened cheek. “I want that, Shade. I love you, and I want to be with you always.”

  He touched her body, caressing her with his hands and his mouth. Words of love flowed from him. Torrey let him take the lead, knowing he needed to do this. He needed to love her like this, and she wanted to be loved like this, by him.

  She arched into his hands as they kneaded her breasts. She moaned as he kissed the sensitive
place where her legs met her hips, and she writhed when his tongue delved into her folds.

  He didn’t lick her for long. Drawing himself up, he leaned over her, resting his weight on his elbows. “I can’t wait, sweetheart. I need to be inside you.”

  Thrusting her throbbing pussy against the long, hard cock he positioned at her entrance, she said, “Don’t wait, Shade. I want you inside me.”

  He penetrated her slowly, thrusting with careful strokes, claiming her by inches. When he was completely in, he lowered his lips to hers. She opened under the feathery caress, meeting his tongue with hers.

  Without breaking the kiss, he withdrew almost completely and thrust into her, faster and faster. Torrey fisted one hand in his thick mane of black hair and dug into his shoulder with the other. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wholly opening herself to him. Fantastic heat built inside, exploding in a sea of colors. Torrey’s body stiffened. She couldn’t move, not even to scream the largest, sweetest climax she’d ever had.

  He came, flooding her womb with his seed, and collapsed on top of her.

  She clung to him, her heart hammering against his, and decided there had to be another way to save Riley and deal with Soren. She couldn’t leave Shade. She couldn’t give up a life with him, not when it was so clear he was her soul mate. She could live a thousand lifetimes and not find this. Deep inside, in a place she couldn’t quite access, she knew she was meant to be with Shade.

  He rolled to the side, taking her with him, and wrapped her in his arms. He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Hope. Always.”

  Pain. Soul-searing pain. Torrey lifted her head from the comfortable place on his shoulder to look at him. Morning had arrived while they made love. In the soft, clear light, she saw the fever in his eyes. The light blue wasn’t love; it was delirium.