The Darkest Touch

Could he base his actions on “might”?

Her blood trickled from the sides of the bandage.

Yes. Yes, he could.

He turned the sword on himself.

“What are you doing?” she asked weakly.

Hissing, he pressed the blade underneath the layers of his brimstone scars and sliced. He’d promised her he would remove them, and there was no better time. The bloody flesh plopped to the ground, reminding him of a piece of shaved ham. He peeled away Keeley’s bandage and held his arm over her wound, letting droplets of crimson splash inside. After the entire area had been saturated, he returned the bandage and applied pressure—finally, blessedly, she passed out.

“Torin,” she gasped a few hours later, pushing upright on her hands.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.” He tenderly brushed her cheek with a gloved hand. He hadn’t left her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. You?”

“Fine, just fine. Lie flat again so I can check your wound.”

She obeyed, and he gently peeled away the bandage. To his amazement, she was almost healed. Muscle and skin had already woven back together, leaving thin pink lines that would soon fade.

His blood had helped her without making her sick.

Or had the removal of the brimstone scars done the trick?

Hades’s taunt teased the back of his mind. Had the answer all along. Too wrapped in fear to realize it.

The scar had weakened her. Might have weakened her immune system. Could Torin finally touch her without consequences?

Did he dare hope it was that simple? That easy?

There was only one way to find out....

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up. “For everything.” The sheet fell, revealing plump breasts and rosy nipples.

A blast of blistering desire, swift and sharp, overtook him. He gripped the coverlet to stop himself from reaching for her.

Soon...

“No,” he said. “Thank you.”

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, just as planned, Danika opened a portal in the middle of the bedroom they shared.

Keeley, healed from her wounds, passed through beside Torin, the Cloak of Invisibility covering them both.

Something had changed. Torin’s steps were lighter, his smiles coming quicker, more often. She loved it, but because he wouldn’t discuss its source, she didn’t trust it. No, trust wasn’t the right word. She didn’t know if it would last.

He removed the Cloak, allowing others to see them.

“Free Dani,” Reyes said the moment he spotted Keeley.

She bounded over and opened the cage. Reyes scooped the weak, mussed blonde into his arms and carried her out of the room.

Torin was fast on the warrior’s heels, dragging Keeley with him. There were a few people hanging out in the hallway, and they tried to get his attention.

“Dude. Baden’s with Strider and they’re playing Call of Duty. Did you know Baden was such a sore loser?”

“All we lack is that cursed box and that kid Anya wants to find. Can you believe it?”

Torin offered no reply. He hurried Keeley to their room, and in his haste slammed the door. But his expression was soft, tender.

“Finally.” He kept her hand intertwined with his. “There’s a chance I can touch you freely now. A chance I could be wrong. But my blood helped heal your wounds, didn’t sicken you, and I’ve removed the brimstone scars, which were weakening you. I should have realized...didn’t think. But if you’re willing to risk it...”

He was asking to be with her...fully? Nothing held back? No clothes between them?

As if she needed to think about it. She cupped his cheek. He leaned into her touch, savoring the feel and heat of her. “I want you, Torin. All of you.”

Relief shimmered over his features as he kissed her palm. “Strip, lie on your back and close your eyes.”

* * *

WITHOUT HER BABY blues watching him, breaking him slowly, Torin expected a release from the tension building inside him, even in the minutest degree. He didn’t get it. Being near her was like being plugged into an outlet. Power flowed and awareness sizzled. That was never going to change.

“I’m going to touch you the way I’ve always dreamed.” Nothing held back.

“Mmm. Yes.”

He discarded his gloves. She offered such a lovely canvas, her female form draped across his bed, he wished he could start everywhere at once. Jaw clenched as he steeled himself against the rapture, he brushed his fingertips over her forehead, down her nose. The warmth of her breath caressed his skin. It was intimate, erotic. A miracle of sensation, connection. He traced the plumpness of her lips, luxuriating in her softness. Her chin, her collar, her shoulders. Dooown her arms and the web between her fingers. Goose bumps appeared on her flesh and he relished the feel of them.

She reached for him, hoping to touch him in turn. He took her by the wrists and lifted her arms above her head. “Grip the headboard.” If she put her hands on him, he would lose focus.

He waited until she’d complied, then traced each of her sensitive joints. There were many, and he adored them all. Adored every inch of her. With his hands...with his mouth. She seemed to dissolve in his mouth like cotton candy, and infuse with every one of his cells.

“Torin.”

He cupped her breasts, watched as her nipples pearled. Such sweet little jewels. His mouth watered for them, but he ran a single fingertip down the center of her stomach and circled her navel. Her belly quivered, her breath coming in shallow pants. She hadn’t removed her panties, and he traced his fingers along the damp center. Her back arched as she moaned.