Golden's Rule

by Billi Jean

  Maybe she wasn’t pathetic.

  Maybe he was. She had power. She could feel it at her fingertips, getting closer and closer the more she worked at trying to use her gifts rather than remember her life. More, she felt capable of protecting herself. Odd, but it was there, almost a drive to do more than simply worry over her lost memory. Her memory might never come back, but her knowledge of what the Death Stalkers could do, what they were doing to harm mortals and immortals, remained. Even thinking about them made her heart race and her body prepare for battle. Torque was involved in the Immortal Council. She knew that they organised the resistance, sent out fighters to destroy the Death Stalkers when they could find them, but she didn’t feel as if she were part of that battle. Ah, Gods, it was confusing.

  She simply felt like a fighter. Maybe her muscles and body recalled what her mind couldn’t.

  She smoothly jumped over a three-foot-high fallen tree and landed perfectly on the opposite side. Power flowed through her muscles.

  Maybe she sucked at picking out men. Maybe that was her problem. Torque was amazing, but he seemed unable to grasp that she needed more than to sit and wait for her memory to return. If a blow to the head caused her memory loss, then maybe another one would bring it back.

  Laughing lightly, she stopped and admired the starry sky. The sweet scent of snow lingered on the air, tingling her nose. The winter animals were silent. The wind blew against her heated face and she felt her body ease of the tension she’d felt since—she tilted her head and gazed up above the dark outline of the trees—since she’d woken here a week before.

  Out here, she felt free. With Torque, she saw, she’d been trying to be what he wanted—what she thought he wanted, at least. A woman in need of rescue. Only she didn’t feel she needed to be pampered and protected. And if she were honest, she couldn’t act that way for him. Not even for a chance at having him in her life.

  The thought hurt, but the rightness of it settled over her. It didn’t matter so much that he’d not called or come back, did it? What did matter was that she hadn’t been completely honest with him, with what she sensed he needed.

  He needed someone she wasn’t. She wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t going to sit at home and wait for her memory to return. Eventually it would. And who knew? Maybe she’d find out she did have family, friends, people who could tell her why she’d gone to the Midway that day.

  She started up running again, feeling lighter now that a decision had been made. Maybe Torque didn’t want her to be weak so he could be the strong hero protector. Maybe he’d simply been waiting on her to say what she wanted. She’d been honest about her empathy, about her confusion, and memory loss, so maybe she should simply be honest over this as well. Maybe he’d understand.

  Then why did he disappear right after making love to you?

  The trail she followed turned and she could sense a slight rush of something around her, something that grew as she neared it.

  The next instant she hit what felt like a brick wall and flew through the air long enough to realise just how pitiful she really was. The impact with the ground burst the air from her lungs and blackness swirled around her vision, dimming the brightness of the night sky.

  * * * *

  “Hey, buddy, you on the same planet as the rest of us, or what?”

  Torque jerked his gaze up and took in the fact that the Immortal Council chamber was empty, all but Jaxon and Sorcha. The witch watched him with a look he couldn’t decipher. Guilt probably clouded his damn vision.

  He could admit that his focus was on the council’s newest topic was shot to shit.

  His concentration was on one thing.

  Beauty.

  Not the council meeting, not the trouble with the newest wave of Death Stalkers, not the results of the attack on their stronghold, not the people arguing around him, not anything that he needed to concentrate on. Not a thing. Just her.

  She probably hated him by now. He’d made love to her like some wild animal and left before she woke up.

  “Yeah, just have a lot on my mind.”

  Jaxon stayed quiet about Beauty, but his blue eyes glowed with humour. Shit. The fucker had better not say a word.

  “Ah, I see. So, what is our next move? Will we go investigate this latest threat?” Sorcha tipped her head and reminded him of Beauty. Sorcha was an auburn, almost dark wine red-haired witch with green eyes similar to Beauty’s. Hell, the woman could be her kin. And wasn’t that realisation a kick in the balls?

  “Yeah, I think if we do a quick night out, we might find something.” Jaxon shrugged and put his toothpick back in his mouth. He was slouched down low in his chair, looking like he was enjoying himself excessively in Torque’s opinion. “Or we could just party hard and find nothing,” Jaxon added around the stick of wood.

  Torque drummed his fingers on the table’s glossy surface. Beauty would love this place. The Immortal Council library had more books than Fort Knox had gold.

  “Or we might find something. If we don’t look, how will we know?” Sorcha murmured.

  Torque nodded. He needed his head off Beauty and on task. “If there are Death Stalkers walking around with tattoos on their faces, then we need to investigate. Let me think on it for a day or so, I have to go deal with some shit,” he finally ground out. Yeah, he’d screwed up with Beauty, now he’d have to go fix it. At this rate, he might end up taking his frustration with his behaviour out on her. She screwed with his brain cells. What was left after they headed below the belt at the mere thought of her.

  Sorcha arched a perfect eyebrow and watched him too closely long enough for his heart to ratchet up to about a hundred and eighty beats per second. The head of the Jade coven always dressed like she was off to a business meeting, not an Immortal Council full of stuffy old crones and musty-smelling ancients and smart-mouthed younglings ready to change the world. Black pin-striped suit jacket, matching ultra-feminine skirt and a pearly white silk blouse unbuttoned enough to show she also shared the same curves as Beauty. Sorcha chaired the council meetings with confidence and power. He’d known her for centuries and in that time he’d seen her grow in strength, and in her inability to say no to those in need. But cross her or hers and he knew, he would pay.

  His balls would be on display if Beauty were her kin, or hell, even part of her coven and he hurt her in any way.

  “Fine. Keep us up to date. I have things to see to as well, too much, it seems at times.”

  She filed out without another word, leaving him alone with a grinning Jaxon. He hated the too-handsome vampire in that moment.

  “So, shit to clean up, huh? Noticed you didn’t drop the word on the little witch.”

  “I’m not sure it’s safe to drop the word.” He practically spat the last, but his body had decided to pulse to a fast beat at just the thought of seeing Beauty again. She’d enjoyed their night. She’d worn him out and that shit just didn’t happen. She’d also taken everything he’d dished out—everything—and loved it. That shit didn’t happen either.

  “Huh.” Jaxon twisted his toothpick around and eyed him as if Torque had grown another head. Torque didn’t rise to the bait, but then neither did Jaxon. The vampire reached up and brushed his brown hair off his forehead leisurely, clearly not worried by Torque’s glare.

  Finally, Jaxon blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, you take care of yourself, Torque. Sorcha’s not a witch to play with and that sweet little thing we saved has all the markings of one powerful witch. I can’t say, so don’t ask, if she’s a member of the Jade, but hell, man, you know witches, they stick the shit together.”

  Torque stayed silent. What could he say? He wanted this particular witch with a need so powerful he’d been in misery these past three days? Hell, he’d been in misery the entire week at the hunting lodge with her. Just kissing Beauty had been better than any sex he’d ever had. Now that he’d had sex with her, he had to wonder what he’d been doing before.

  But Sorcha was a minor
problem and one he’d face if, or when, he determined Beauty was a member of the Jade Coven. Until then, he needed to figure out what he was doing.

  “Are you listening?” Jaxon asked him, sounding irritated.

  “Yeah, I’m listening. She’s…different.”

  Jaxon drew his eyebrows down into a sharp v. “Different how?”

  Torque shrugged and drummed his fingers on the council tabletop. “She’s just not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Because you can’t stop thinking with your dick? Look.” Jaxon held up a hand and shook his head for the immediate glare Torque sent him. “I get it, man. I get it, she is hot, no doubt about it, but look, you’re off your game. Distracted. Hell, when I heard that you’d said no on the raid to the Death Stalker compound, I was like, no way. But hell, man, you did what when we raided those bastards?”

  Torque grilled the vampire with a stare. Jaxon simply waited. The evil bastard. “I had dinner with her.”

  Jaxon gave him a look as if he’d just proved his case. His blue eyes shifted over Torque like he was reading a book. “Look, have you considered she might be a spy? A DS sent to entice you to not get involved because you are too involved in getting your dick where it shouldn’t go?”

  “Fuck off, Jaxon, I’m not stupid, she’s not a DS.” Shit, the vampire was so into conspiracy theories it boggled the mind. Beauty a Death Stalker? No chance.

  “Oh, okay, sure, no problem, but yeah, have you fucked her yet?”

  Torque surged up and took a swing at Jaxon, missing only because the vampire shifted out of his sight and reappeared with a grin, two inches over to the left with his palms up. “Hey, hey, I’m just trying to make you see the shit you stepped in, buddy, before you track it all over the living room.”

  “Beauty is not a Death Stalker. Not everyone is out to get us, man.”

  “Yeah, true, true, but let me ask you something.” Jaxon paused and Torque fisted his hands until his knuckles popped. “Settle down, bud. Look, how long have I known you?”

  Thrown by the new direction, Torque shrugged. “A few decades, maybe, why?”

  “Well, man, I know your routines. You been to other women since you met, what did you call her? Beauty?”

  “Jax, you’re begging me to kick your ass.”

  The warning went unnoticed except that Jaxon nodded as if Torque had just proved another point. “Right, so you aren’t getting laid and you’re not doing the dirty with Beauty. Have you tried? To go to another? Did it cross your mind as odd that you can’t?”

  Torque stayed silent, not even breaking in when Jaxon didn’t wait for an answer and barrelled on through with his direct hit. The vampire’s logic made him pissed and more than a bit worried. He’d not been able to think about touching another, not since he’d found Beauty. What was the vampire getting at?

  “Just finish your damn theory.”

  “She might be a witch, eh? A witch sent to weaken you. Think about it. I know, because I’m nosey, that your power is linked somehow to the women you have sprinkled all over the globe, so don’t get your boxers in a bind, but look, your power is what keeps you alive. Without it, what are you? Can you even live without it?”

  Torque sat down like someone had dropped a two-hundred-pound rock in his arms.

  Jaxon spread his big arms and shook his head. “Yeah, think on it, would you? When the shit hits it, I warned you. Gotta go. Hit me up when we’re going Death Stalker-hunting.”

  With a knowing laugh, the damn vampire shifted out of the room, leaving Torque alone with his miserable thoughts. Could Beauty be some kind of trap? No one knew of his habits—he shut the thought down. Jaxon knew. The vampire was right, he was a nosey sonofabitch, but he’d also come close to figuring out how Torque survived.

  Hell. What the hell.

  Did it matter? Did any of this matter? Beauty probably hated him by now.

  What woman wouldn’t?

  He’d taken her with a sense of ownership. Entitlement. He’d lost it, lost control with her. Yeah, he’d fucked up. He’d taken much more than he should have. He’d forced her to orgasm after orgasm, what male didn’t like that, but with each shudder of release something inside him grew, expanding until he’d been nearly lost. It felt right, simply right in a way he couldn’t name, to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could. Each orgasm, each small tremble of pleasure she experienced fed a need inside him he couldn’t explain.

  Jaxon had come close with his guesses. Torque should have been primed for any willing female. As a warlock who fed his magic with sex, after seventy-two hours without a bite, any woman should do.

  Torque shot out of his chair and slammed his fist into the wall behind him. The plaster cracked.

  Any woman wouldn’t do though. He’d even gone that step. Half of him—hell, more than half of him—shuddered at the mere idea of anyone but Beauty touching him, yet what else was he to do? He couldn’t go to her after not seeing her, calling for three days. He’d texted, but hell, he knew that was just plain wrong. So he’d travelled on a hub to Lebanon where he knew a woman who always wanted quick, hard sex. One look at her sickly thin face and fake breasts and he’d known he’d never be able to get hard, not for her, not for anyone other than Beauty, ever again.

  The thought freaked him the hell out enough to piss him off. He fisted his throbbing hand and flexed it again.

  What if Jaxon was right? What if Beauty was weakening him?

  He needed sex. He didn’t want it. Hell, of course he liked sex, who didn’t? With Beauty, he wanted to sink in and stay. But hell, he used a great deal of magic, each spell he cast cost, demanding payment. He knew he needed to keep his level in the green, and he banked enough from one night with Beauty he still registered in the green, but for how long?

  This one particular woman with her bright green eyes, heart-shaped face, soft pink lips and long sun-kissed hair stirred him to the point of pain.

  Stirred.

  Exactly. She stirred him, his gut felt like she’d swirled those small perfect fingers in his soul, turning all he was, all he knew, into a maze of emotions he couldn’t decipher.

  Was she using a spell to tie him to her? Then what? Leave?

  His temper, the anger he’d not felt since meeting her, burned bright, growing as more and more of what Jaxon said took root and grew.

  He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. He texted the number he’d given her. His stomach tightened in anger. The scar crossing his chest burned for a moment, reminding him of all he’d lost to the Death Stalkers. He couldn’t afford attachments. Even if Beauty wasn’t trying to ensnare him with a spell, she’d already distracted him.

  He’d go to her. He could do that—simply go to her like he did all the past women. His magic would be fed and he’d shut down the other desires. He had no need in his life for warmth and comfort. No need for a woman who looked at him with trust and possibly more in her green eyes.

  He couldn’t have more.

  His anger burst hotter, strengthening his resolve. If she played with him, she’d soon learn her mistake.

  Chapter Seven

  Beauty slowly blinked her eyes open, feeling sick to her stomach and more than a little freezing. Wait, freezing? Why was she so cold?

  The memory of her anxiety, and decision to go for a run surfaced above her confusion. She’d cut into the woods surrounding the cabin, feeling powerful and free for the first time since Torque had left—Torque. Then, she’d hit something.

  She lifted her head from the frozen ground, rubbed her eyes and looked around her. It was dark out. The black outline of trees surrounded her, but nothing even remotely looking like solid brick wall.

  Disgruntled, she sat up. So, what had she hit? A spell perhaps. She still felt a zip of something along her skin, enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck tingle.

  Torque had mentioned protections surrounding the place. She remembered feeling a danger but her phone vibrated against her back pocket, breaking her thoughts
.

  Torque.

  At least he wasn’t here. Humiliation heated her neck and face. She knew what he’d think. Why was it so perfectly clear how little he thought of her, now, after hitting her head? Too bad the new understanding hadn’t knocked some of her memory back into place. Just to be certain she tried to recall anything beyond a week ago when she’d woken to a pounding headache and Torque’s worried face. Nothing, not one glimpse of anything came to her. Not a name, not a memory, nothing.

  Why would it be that easy?

  Besides, he might not think so little of her. Anyone new here wouldn’t see his spells, that was what they were for, protection.

  Torque.

  She tried hard not to get excited, but that tiny bubble of happiness grew when she saw Torque’s message.

  ‘Been held up. Be there soon’.

  Been held up? Held up by what? The cell phone police? Aliens? There was no reason not to text, she knew that. Well, there was one reason, he didn’t think to because she hadn’t crossed his mind.

  Stupid. She was stupid. She wanted to race back to the cabin, take a bath, and get all sexy for him.

  No. No, she shouldn’t. Couldn’t. She got up and started walking. She had to make sure he didn’t think this was okay. Not cool at all. In fact, she felt a bit like a prisoner out here and needed to tell him that too.

  Maybe she should go. He didn’t need to kick her in the butt for her to see her way to the door, right?

  She stopped in her tracks. Go and never see Torque again.

  Torque filled her life. His handsome face, white teeth flashing in a grin as he held himself up over at her, still breathless from sex. The wink he’d given her when he’d caught her staring at the way the firelight caught his face while he read. She’d blushed. Dinners. Breakfasts. Lunches. In the kitchen, study, snowy patio. Silences when they read snuggled up next to each other in front of the fireplace. The feel of his body, hard yet so perfect curled around hers. His warmth. His laugh. The smell of him after a shower. The scent of his big jacket when he wrapped it around her while they walked in the woods. Kisses that lasted for hours. His lips. The feel of his silky hair. The rough caress of his whiskered jaw along her lips.