Happy Little Accident
Rhys
I gape as I notice the cum painting the hard cut of his abs. It drips down the valley of his stomach, and I have to force myself to look away. It isn’t sexy… I mean… Itshouldn’t besexy anyway. Torben sports a semi that’s still more impressive than any human or shifter I’ve ever seen.
Not that I’ve seen many.
“I… I barely touched you.” My defense is weak. Obviously I didsomething. The evidence of his release gleams on his skin like an erotic picture. “I was just trying to help.”
“Just keep your hands and yourmagic”—the word snaps out with the force of a whip— “to yourself. I don’t need yourhelp.” Suggestion coats the last word, like I wrapped my lips around his cock rather than healed the wound bleeding all over the floor.
My thighs shift with an ache spreading deeper, but I ignore the needy feeling as I glare at him.
“Don’t worry.” I hope my gaze cuts into him as harshly as I intend. “Next time I’ll just let you die.”
“I’m immortal, princess.”
I… fuck. What do I say to that? I didn’t know, but it seems painfully obvious now. Of course these men are immortal. Why not? They’re not only hot, powerful, and scary as hell… they get to live for-fucking-ever.
That seems fair.
I fume as I pace in my cell, shaking every single icy bar to test for weakness. They’re solid and magic pulses through them… which totally kills any escape plan I had. Even the strength of my wolf won’t be able to bash through the magically reinforced cages that holds us.
I shiver, my pale fingers starting to take on a blue hue that can’t mean anything good.
Unlike the asshole next to me, I’m a mere mortal, and dying of hypothermia doesn’t sound like a fun way to go.
I catch Torben’s entire exterior soften as he takes in my pallor. It’s then that I realize this man has layers. I’d bet my measly life savings that there’s more to the story of why he’s upset than he’s letting on. It begs the question, what would make him upset about a magic induced orgasm? Seems like most guys beg for release. And it was clearly an accident that I feel like a jerk for having caused.
Torben suddenly seems hurt and angered all at the same time.
And now I’m insanely curious.
I want to know, but I don’t dare ask.
Torben tests each of his own bars before trying out his brand of magic. I saw the fiery blasts he’s capable of earlier, but now only smoke and the smallest sparks flare from his hands.
A menacing growl cuts through the air.
“The blade was made of their holy water,” he grumbles angrily as my dream of breaking out of here dies a slow death.
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask, but I already know.
“It cancels my Hell magic until it’s out of my system. Enough of it must have melted into me while it was lodged in my back.” Torben drives his hand into his hair, tugging on the long strands with a lost look in his eyes. “I promise I’ll figure out a way to get you out of here,” he says without the rough edge in his tone, more protective than combative now that he’s coming off the high of anger.
Almost like he actually cares. I don’t know if I should trust it.
I pace back toward the bars that connect our cells together, my hands trembling from the cold. “I didn’t mean to do anything to… you know… turn you on or get you off or whatever. I… I’m really sorry,” I stammer awkwardly, forcing my gaze not to travel to the mess that’s drying across his hard stomach.
I want to clear the air since we’re going to be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, but he only stares at me, clearly not expecting the white flag of surrender. For a long moment, he searches for the truth in my face as well as my words.
“You don’t know how to use your powers.” It’s a statement, not a question. He knows. Somehow, he sees the truth easily enough.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I barely knew I had other powers before you all dropped into my life and turned it upside down.” It’s a half-truth for many reasons.
I’ve always been different, and I’ve always known that. The power living in me has grown with time, though I have no idea what it is or how it works. For the first time in my life, I have to face facts.
“I’m not a shifter, am I?” The words slip out softly, a whisper that says I’m not sure I really want the answer.
