The Darkest Touch

The pleasure burst inside him, filling him, consuming him. As he shuddered against her, his climax burning through him, he roared like the animal he’d become. Resplendent. Complete. Satisfied.

Branded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AFTER KEELEY CHANGED into clean clothes—a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt of Torin’s that boldly proclaimed “Maddox Punched Here” with spots of fake blood splattered everywhere—she crawled back into bed, muttered, “I owe you a thank-you this time,” and sank into a deep, peaceful sleep without any coaxing from him. He watched her, utterly awed by her. He petted the golden waves strewn over his pillow, drank in the purity of her features. Her lips were parted, moist, even swollen from where she’d bitten them, and he wanted so badly to taste them.

No one was more beautiful than his woman.

The things she’d made him feel...let him do.

Men liked to say a leopard couldn’t change his spots and an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks. Well, he’d just proven them wrong. She’d changed him, giving him what he’d once deemed unattainable. Not just sex, but unqualified acceptance. He was no longer Torin, but Keeley’s man.

He kissed the crown of her head. He’d never thought the loss of his virginity would garner anything but relief, and yet he was utterly undone. His first time had been with the loveliest, wittiest, sexiest, smartest and most powerful chick on the planet. One who’d taught him the true meaning of pleasure, ruining him for any other. Though his hunger was vast, it came with only one craving: Keeley. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, and every snack in between.

And I can have her. Can be careful with her.

I can satiate her.

A commotion in the hall interrupted his thoughts. Banging, shaking. Voices.

Keeley murmured under her breath.

If anyone woke her up, there would be hell to pay.

He waited until she’d settled before he gently eased from the bed, righted his pants and stalked to the door. Lucien and Anya stood in the hallway, passing what looked to be a basket of fruit back and forth.

“Apologize,” Lucien commanded.

“Never!” she shouted.

“Shut up!” Torin whisper-yelled.

Both focused on him.

“Not another word. Not another noise. Keeley is sleeping, and I will maim the person who wakes her up.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed, but instead of screaming as Torin expected, she thrust the basket at him and quietly said, “For your female friend. Because Lucien is sorry I cut her hair.”

Lucien cleared his throat.

“And I’m sorry, too,” she said. Only to add, “Sorry I didn’t cut more. But I won’t do it again. Okay? All right? So you can totally tell her I was spanked properly.” Her gaze raked over him, taking in his mussed hair, and she smiled. “I see the Red Queen got a spanking, too.”

Torin shut the door in their faces. Even the soft snicker annoyed him; Keeley would have absolute quiet, and that was that. He set the basket aside—not a fruit basket, after all. In it were sparkly hair barrettes, gilded brushes, silver combs, lace-covered rubber bands and a note that read, My bad. *A.

Women.

He padded to the side of the bed. The disturbance hadn’t awakened Keeley, thank God.

He spent the next few hours on noise patrol. Reyes came to the door to apologize to Keeley for something he’d said, but Torin sent him away. And any thump, creak or rustle he heard sent him striding out of the room to whisper-yell at the offender. His friends gave him strange looks, and he knew they thought the time away had addled his brain, but he didn’t care.

On the final return, William waited at the door for him. The male leaned against the wall, hands anchored behind his back.

“Heard you’ve gone a little cray-cray today.” William’s grin was sardonic. As usual. “Expecting all your friends to play the quiet or die game.”

“Not expecting. Demanding.”

“Well, I’m playing gorgeous messenger. Probably the most gorgeous messenger ever born. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Torin arched a brow. “Are you hitting on me, Willy?”

“You wish. Just like everyone else who ever crosses my path. You’ve seen my ass, right?”

“In need of ego stroking, I see.”

“I don’t believe in hubris. But I believe in me...and my awesomeness.”

This could go on forever. “Just tell me what you came to say and get lost.”

William made a face, all I’d rather eat rocks than talk, but still he said, “Tell your petri dish my boys will sign up as her royal guard in exchange for her services during our war with the Phoenix.”

His fist was connecting with William’s nose before he realized he’d even moved. Cartilage snapped. Blood poured. Willy calling Keeley a petri dish? Hell, no. It wasn’t funny. Not even remotely. But it was true. Because that’s exactly what Torin would make her if he wasn’t always careful, wasn’t it?

William smiled again, and there was blood on his teeth. “I hope you didn’t break a nail with that little love tap.”

Torin was about to respond when he got caught up on something else William had said. Royal guard. Reminded of the kingdom Keeley planned to “jump start,” he cursed.

Was she planning to move away?

Not without me, she’s not.

“Will you be part of the war?” he asked. Because it was looking like Torin would be. He’d help Keeley any way he could. Perhaps even fight again, he thought, excitement building.