The Darkest Touch

Others? Probably not a good sign that he wanted to cold-bloodedly murder anyone who ended up tethered to her. My woman. Mine alone. But for her—he would deal. There was only one problem. “What if, through the bond, she passes on the demon’s sicknesses? She would be strong enough to combat them, but others might not be.”

Lucien sighed. “Yes. There is that.”

Cursing, Torin swiped his hand over the side table, sweeping an ice-filled glass to the floor. Life shouldn’t be this way. Shouldn’t be so hard. No matter what decision he made—stay, take off, touch, don’t touch, try for something, just be friends—it was a bad one.

“I’ve got to do this,” he said. “She means too much to me.”

Lucien gave him a pitying smile. “She doesn’t strike me as the type to allow a man to make decisions for her.”

“Don’t care. I’ll be firm.”

“You were firm last time, too.”

“You are such a pain. I’m leaving before I donkey punch you in the face.”

Lucien blinked innocently. “Was it something I said?”

Scowling, Torin stood and moved to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door flung open and Anya rushed inside the room, almost crashing into him.

She stopped abruptly, jerked her hands behind her back and peered up at him. At least, he thought she was peering at him. She wore a hat, and the shadows cast by the brim obscured her eyes.

“On your way out?” she asked. “Good—I mean, boo, I’m super bummed. So sad we won’t get to chat. Did you ask the Red Queen about the boy? Well, goodbye.” She stepped aside, motioning to the hall with her chin. “Time for Lucy to give Annie some alone time.”

This did not bode well—for Lucien. My Sugar Plum Fairy would—

Stop!

“What did you do, Anya?” Lucien demanded, coming up to Torin’s side.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “Don’t make me say it in front of Torin. Please, baby!”

“Say it,” Lucien insisted. “Now.”

“What’s going on?” Torin asked.

“Well...there might be a slight problem with the she-devil in your room,” she admitted.

What! Demon red shimmered before his eyes. “Did you harm her?”

“What? Sweet lil me?” She shook her head, all innocence. “But I may or may not have done some research and come across a bit of info that said hacking off all of her hair would severely weaken her. Then I may or may not have snuck in your bedroom with a pair of scissors and taken these.” She lifted her arms and clutched in both of her hands were thick hanks of golden hair. “By the way, I may or may not know for a fact that the rumors are definitely not true.”

Going. To. Kill. Her.

“The Red Queen may or may not have woken up mid style job,” Anya continued blithely, “and may or may not have taken the scissors away from me and given me a new style of my own.”

With a clipped slash of his arm, Lucien knocked off her hat. The ultrafashionable Anya sported uneven bangs and layers that hung sloppily around her face. “You may or may not look ridiculous. And adorable,” he added with a grumble.

“Not adorable,” Torin roared. It had taken weeks to convince Keeley to rest in his vicinity. Weeks to prove she was safe with him, that she could trust him to protect her from others while she was vulnerable. All his efforts had been ruined in a blink.

Anya ignored him, saying to Lucien, “We’ll have to postpone the wedding until my hair grows back.”

“Why am I not surprised?” the warrior replied.

“If you don’t spank her, I will. And I won’t wear gloves.” Torin left the room before harsher words were spoken and friendships were ruined.

“Yo, Tor Tor,” Strider called, running to catch up to him in the hall, then keeping pace beside him. “Kaia’s been pestering me—I mean, asking sweetly. She wants you to set up a playdate with Keeley. A girl’s night out with murder, mayhem and crap like that.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, rounding the corner.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Strider replied. “But, uh, do it soon. Kaia’s pestering—I mean, asking sweetly—can get painful.”

Torin reached his room. He fortified his resolve—I made a decision, and I’m sticking to it—before he entered. Keeley stood at the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly in front of her. Waiting for him?

Hell, she was gorgeous. Her hair had indeed gotten a major trim, the waves stopping just below her shoulders. Still long enough to fist. Like Anya, she had bangs. Only she’d swooped hers to the side. Made her look younger...like a doll who’d gotten a trim at Salon Toddler.

Adorable was right.

She wore a new gown. One of scarlet silk that clung to her magnificent curves and formed a ruffled pool around her feet. Elegant—except for the deep vee between her breasts, showcasing her cleavage. That was straight-up hot.

He stepped back, increasing the distance between them. But it didn’t help. The desire to put his hands on her was always with him, riding him, but now it utterly consumed him. Resist!

But...she was well and in front of him, and a bed was behind her. How easy it would be to toss her to the mattress and pin her with his weight.

“We have to break up,” he bellowed. Damn it. He cleared his throat, added softly, “We’ll remain friends, of course.”