Torn (Devils Wolves Book 1)

by Carian Cole

  "I will."

  I put my glass on the table next to the chair and put my arm around her, comforted by her closeness.

  "Uncle Tor?" she whispers when her parents are gone.

  "Yeah?"

  "Your Daddy went to Heaven?"

  I take a deep breath. "That's right, Angel. He did."

  She hugs me tighter. "Don't be sad. We can share my Daddy."

  I can't help but smile. "Thank you, Kenzi. That's very sweet."

  She soon falls asleep against my chest like she always does. The sound of her breathing is calming, and not wanting to wake her prevents me from getting up to raid the liquor cabinet and get drunk off my ass to numb the pain.

  My father is gone. I didn't get to say goodbye, or thank him for being such a great father and supporting all my dreams.

  Dreams that I now have to let go, to take care of his family and his shop. It's what he would want and expect, and I owe him that.

  Kenzi stirs and I look down at her peaceful sleeping face. She's just two years younger than my sister, Tesla. I should probably be with her, comforting her, telling her everything will be okay but I don't have it in me to be there for all of them tonight.

  Tonight, I just need someone to comfort me for once.

  Kenzi

  His door is closed.

  I stand outside it in the hallway, in a state of utter confusion. He's never closed his door before.

  Why today?

  I have to believe it means something, this suddenly closed door. Is he trying to tell me something? Did I do or say something to make him mad? Have I been too clingy?

  Is he drawing a line where there never was one before?

  The scent of the lasagna cooking in the oven makes my stomach growl in protest as I stare at the door for a long time, contemplating its meaning.

  I knock softly and wait. I don't hear a sound on the other side, so I knock harder. Still nothing. I bang harder.

  "Tor?"

  I press my ear against the door and the sound of his light snoring is all I can hear.

  Screw it.

  I open the door and step inside his room, feeling slightly guilty, but that quickly turns into something entirely different when my eyes land on him, laying on top of his white down comforter in nothing but black shorts. I literally freeze mid-step and just stare at him, my breath caught in my throat as a swarm of feelings I've never felt before possess me.

  I've seen Toren practically every day of my entire life. I've seen him as a teen and I've seen him as a man. I've seen him happy, sad, sick, drunk, behind bars, on a motorcycle, in a truck, grieving, pissed off, loving, playful, and serious. But I've never seen him look like he just fell out of some magical portal of hotness.

  I knew he started working out a lot again over the winter, but I had no idea how big and muscular his entire body had become. Or maybe he was always like this? The ink I noticed earlier and tried not to look at spans across his defined abs - words in gothic script that I can't read from where I'm still frozen, and a portrait of a female warrior takes up most of his torso and rib cage. A black raven covers one of his pecs, its wings seeming to flutter with his breathing.

  Inching closer to the bed, I notice his hair is untied and damp, falling across half his face. I desperately want to reach out and push it away because he hates his hair in his face, but a little voice inside me says touching him right now, while he's lying in bed nearly naked, would be crossing a line.

  Another new line has mysteriously popped up. I've touched Tor a million times. But today, now, like this...it feels wrong because something about it also feels so right, so needed, so demanded, so naturally instinctive that it shakes me right down to my toes. And that can only mean something really, really good, or really, really bad.

  Swallowing, I say his name softly. "Tor?"

  He doesn't move or wake.

  The man sleeps like the dead.

  I gently nudge his shoulder, warm and hard under my hand. "Tor? Wake up."

  His eyes open and slowly focus on me, and goosebumps sprinkle across my flesh when he smiles sleepily at me. It feels faintly sensual, knowing I am the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

  "I'm sorry...I knocked but it didn't wake you," I stammer, feeling even more exposed than he is. Can he tell I was looking at him while he was sleeping?

  He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, flexing his fingers, and my stomach does the flippies again at the sight of his chiseled chest and abs straining as he arches his back.

  "It's okay," he says groggily. "Fuck. Something smells great."

  "Dinner is ready. If you're hungry?"

  "You kidding? I'm starved."

  "Well, get up, sleepyhead. I'll go set the table."

  I make a quick exit out of his room and he joins me in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed and much more awake, and throws a pair of purple sweat pants at me.

  "What’s this for?" I ask.

  "To wear when we check the traps after dinner. I don't want you to wear shorts walking in the woods, you might get a tick on you."

  "Thank you. Whose are these? Is there a woman without pants running around town?" I joke, not sure I even want to know the answer to that.

  "Sydni left them here months ago. She won't mind if you borrow them. You can burn them if you want. I don't want her stuff in my house anymore."

  I fold them and put them off to the side. "Duly noted. Let's eat."

  He raves over my lasagna, telling me it's just as good as his mom’s and he'd love for me to make him dinner on the days I'm here cleaning his house. He'll throw me some more money to cook. I agree, not because I want the money, but because I want to cook for him. I have no idea why I'm so drawn to domestic activities, but I am, and now I'm incredibly excited about cooking for him a few times a week. My mind starts to churn with meal ideas.

  "Hey," I say as I'm cleaning up our dishes after dinner. "After we check on the food stations, do you want to hang out and watch a movie in Dad's theatre room? He's not coming home tonight; he's staying in the city meeting with some friends, and I'm still mad at Chloe so I don't want to see her yet."

  "I can't tonight, I have a date with Lisa."

  I almost drop the towel I'm drying my hands with. I didn't know he was seeing Lisa again.

  "Oh," I try to hide my disappointment behind a smile. "Maybe another time."

  "Are you okay to be alone all night?"

  "Of course. You know my father and his crazy security system. I'll just read and watch the bunny hop around my room. I'm still kinda tired, anyway."

  "If I had known you wanted to hang out I would have told Lisa I couldn't see her."

  "Don't be silly. I'll be fine. I want you to have fun on your date. I'm glad you're giving her another chance." I honestly want to be happy for him, but I feel like Lisa doesn't deserve or appreciate him. How could she when she called him cold and uncaring? She clearly doesn't get him at all.

  Tor is unusually quiet and distracted when we check on the food traps, and he opts out of our ritual of sitting on the rock and making wishes. I'm disappointed, because I love our little rituals, but I assume he wants to get to his date and I've probably worn out my welcome by now. An unexpected call from me for a ride home has turned into me spending the entire day at his house.

  When he brings me home, he insists on walking me inside and then tells me he has to wash his hands before heading back out to meet Lisa because she thinks he smells like motorcycle grease and meat. I've actually always liked the faint smell of motorcycle grease because it's such a part of him, but I suppose most women may not feel the same way. I watch his truck back out of our long driveway before I engage the security system and retreat to my room. As I'm running water for a bath, my cell phone rings.

  "Hi, Dad," I answer. "I was getting ready to take a bath. Tor just dropped me off."

  "I know, he called me. I wanted to say goodnight and tell you I love you."

  I smile into the phone. "I love you
, too."

  "You okay? I could call Rayne for you and have her stay the night."

  "Dad, no. Why does everyone think I need a babysitter? I'm almost eighteen."

  "You'll always be a little girl to me, Kenzi. I can't help it."

  "I know..."

  "I worry about you. That's what fathers do."

  "I get it. And it's sweet. I'm going to just chill and read for a while and probably go to bed early. So, what's going on in Boston?"

  "Just meeting with a friend who opened a club out here. We're going to have dinner and talk about setting up some shows. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon."

  "Okay, I'll be here. Have a good night, Daddy."

  "You too, Sunshine."

  I sit in the bathtub until the water turns cold, and then I let my dwarf rabbit, Snuggles, out of her cage to hop around my room while I sit on the floor with her and read. She's twelve years old, so she doesn't hop around as much as she used to in her younger days, but sometimes she'll get a spurt of energy and bounce around. She mostly just likes to sit on my fuzzy throw rug and stretch out like a little dog. Tor bought her for me when I was only five years old, and taught me how to clean her cage, make her fresh salads, and hold her without spooking her. My parents didn't think it was a great idea to bring her with us when I travelled with them, so Tor would bunny-sit for me and I would call him every night and make him let me "talk" to the bunny on the phone. And in typical Tor fashion, he would do it and even tell me what she was "saying" back.

  The memory brings a smile to my lips, and speak of the devil, my cell phone buzzes next to me and there's a text from him.

  Uncle Tor: I just wanted to check on you.

  Me: I'm great. Just invited five guys over for an orgy.

  Uncle Tor: Not funny.

  Me: I'm okay, just hanging out with Snuggles :-)

  Uncle Tor: Ah. Give her a little kiss for me.

  Me: LOL I will. Are you still on your date?

  Uncle Tor: Yes. Playing pool.

  Me: Did she approve of your soft, clean hands? ;-)

  Uncle Tor: Barely. She's mad about me ripping my knuckles on that guy’s face.

  Me: Geez. Isn't she turned on by you beating up bad guys? That's how it works in all of Gram’s books.

  Uncle Tor: Apparently not.

  Me: Sucks to be you ;-)

  Uncle Tor: Thanks. Ok. I’m going now.

  Me: LOL goodnight.

  Uncle Tor: night Angel.

  6

  Tor

  Kenzi ~ age seven

  Toren ~ age twenty-two

  I let go of her hand for one second to pay the guy in the ice cream truck, and when I turn around she's gone. I stare around wildly, trying to find her in the crowded park. She was right next to me a second ago.

  "Kenzi!"

  My heart pounds faster and my chest tightens when she doesn't come to me. She's nowhere. She's gone.

  I run to the other side of the truck, but she's not there.

  "Kenzi!!" The wind whips my hair into my face and when I shake it back, there she is, standing innocently right in front of me.

  "Where were you? You can't do that, Kenzi. You have to stay by me."

  She takes the ice cream cone from me and gives it a lick. "I just went over there for a second. There was a man with a cat on a leash."

  "I don't care if it was a monkey driving a car. You don't run away from me. Ever. Okay?"

  She puts her hand on her hip and rolls her eyes. "Monkey's can't drive, Uncle Tor."

  The way she's staring up at me, I swear she can see right into my soul and it rattles the hell out of me.

  "You look like you need to sit for a minute and handle your shit," she finally says matter-of-factly.

  Fuck. She's been hanging around all of us for way too long. She has the vocabulary of a twenty year old.

  "Don't say ‘shit’, Kenzi. And I'm fine. You just scared me. I thought I lost you."

  "You can't ever lose me, Uncle Tor. You're my favorite person in the whole world."

  I've never been anyone's favorite anything.

  Tor

  "What are you doing there, handsome?" Lisa sidles up to me, pool stick in her hand, and glances down at the cell phone in my hand.

  "Texting my niece."

  "The rock star’s kid?"

  "Yup."

  "She's cute."

  Nodding, I shove my phone back in my pocket. "Yeah, she is."

  She leans closer to me, her breasts pressing against my arm. "You want to head out of here?" Her voice is low, riddled with unspoken, but undeniably clear offers.

  I search the crowded bar for her friend, whose name I can't remember, and find her making out with some guy in a dark booth near the back of the bar.

  "What about your friend?"

  She glances over in their direction. "Something tells me she'll be busy for a while. She'll be alright. I'd rather you drive me home."

  I put our sticks back on the rack, mulling it over in my mind. The loud music and people yelling to be heard are starting to make my head throb. "Yeah. Let's go."

  After paying our tab, I lead her out to my truck, my hand on the small of her back, and she beams at me when I open the passenger door for her.

  "I'm glad you came tonight," she says when I get behind the wheel. "I know I've been a little...harsh on you."

  "I wouldn't say harsh, Lisa. You're just speaking your mind. Nothing wrong with that."

  She lets out a laugh. "I'm kinda known for doing that a little too much."

  I throw her a grin. "Trust me, you could be a lot worse."

  She tucks her long black hair behind her ear and smiles across the truck at me. "I'll try not to be worse."

  "Just be yourself. That's all any of us should be."

  I hate when women try to change to be what they think a guy wants. Eventually, they slip and the real them will come crashing through, and it's usually not as good as the person they were pretending to be. I have no time or tolerance for fake people or trying to figure out who they really are.

  We talk casually on the drive across town and then sit in silence for a few awkward moments when I pull into her driveway. I'm not good at starting or ending dates. At all.

  "I'll walk you to the door," I finally say, and jump out to open her door for her.

  "You really have the best manners, Toren," she remarks as she steps out of the truck and takes my arm held out to her. "Opening doors seems to be a lost art."

  "My father taught us how to treat a woman right."

  "Well, it shows. I can't remember the last time a man opened a door for me."

  "That's pretty sad."

  "You have no idea," she agrees.

  At her door, she looks up at me expectedly and lays her hand on my shoulder, her finger moving back and forth at the edge of my collar.

  "You want to come inside? Have a glass of wine? Or a beer?"

  I waver between wanting to fuck out my frustration and wanting to not be that kind of guy anymore. She's been giving me the green light all night so there's no question she wants me. One touch, and I'm pretty sure I can have her melting right through this door and dragging me to her bedroom. And it's tempting, especially after six months and counting of no sex.

  "Hmm?" She coaxes, running her hand up to the back of my neck and pulling my lips down to hers.

  I let her press my lips to hers for a moment and then slowly pull away. "Not tonight."

  Disappointment curves her mouth into a frown and her cheeks redden. She's embarrassed, being turned down, and I feel bad for her.

  She takes a deep breath to recover. "Tor, we've dated a bunch of times, and I really like you."

  "I like you, too." I chew the inside of my cheek.

  "Then I don't understand why you've never done anything more than kiss me. Is there something wrong with me?"

  "Fuck no, you're beautiful."

  "Then what's the problem?" she asks, glancing down towards my dick. "Is there something wrong with you?" />
  "Fuck no, again."

  She leans her back against her front door and makes a face at me like I just landed here from Mars. "Then what the hell is going on? I'm confused."

  "Lisa, I was in a relationship for twelve years-"

  "You're still in love with her?" she interrupts. "Is that it?"

  I shake my head. "No, that's not it at all. I'm just not into casual fucking."

  "Casual fucking?" she repeats.

  "Yeah...fooling around with no commitment."

  "I know what it means, Toren. And if that's the issue, I have no problem committing to you. I'm not seeing anyone else."

  Oh shit no. "Neither am I but that's not quite what I meant."

  "Then what do you mean?"

  "I mean I don't want to get physically involved unless I'm mentally involved. I'm not lookin' to just get laid, Lisa. I pretty much spent twelve years of my life on someone who couldn't commit to me one hundred percent physically or mentally, and I'm not doing that shit again. She only came around when she wanted me to fuck her silly or she needed something from me. You want to be friends and see where it goes? Then I'm down for that. But I'm not getting my dick or my heart involved until I feel like it’s gonna go someplace worthwhile for both of us, in every way."

  I'm met with a glazed, unblinking brown-eyed stare. "You're serious?"

  "Do I look like I'm fucking joking?"

  "No, not at all," she shakes her head slowly back and forth, studying my face. "I'm just a little shocked. I mean, come on, Tor. You don't exactly look like the kind of guy that would abstain by your own choice. You practically ooze sex."

  "I know," I smirk, half joking. I'm not clueless as to how women look at me.

  "Well, I'm not going to lie, I'm surprised but also impressed. I didn't think men like you actually existed," a seductive smile crosses her lips. "But it does make you even more intriguing and more of a catch."

  A vision of me in a lake with a fish hook in my mouth comes to mind and it's not how I want to be thought of.

  "I don't want to be a catch. I just want to be with someone for the right reasons. And I want them to be with me for the right reasons, too. I can't deal with bullshit or games or people that don't know what they want, or can't commit to it when they do know."