Haven 5

 

Invincible

 

Aslan is used to everyone considering him to be flighty, clueless, 
and confused. That doesn’t mean it’s true, but the constant 

cacophony of voices inside his head makes it kind of hard to pay 
attention to anything else around him. 

Torren Braddock has his hands full as a new elder, trying to clean 
up the mess the former Council members left for him. Adding a 

mate to his agenda is the last thing he wants to do, but he can’t 
deny the way Aslan draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Torren is meant to be his champion, his protector. Aslan is sure of 
it. When the voices in his head grow louder and more demanding, 
he realizes something big is coming, something that has the 

potential to destroy everything—and he’ll need his new mate at 
his side if he hopes to survive it. 

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, 
Vampires/Werewolves 
Length: 44,149 words

 

 

INVINCIBLE 

 

Haven 5 

 
 
 
 
 

Gabrielle Evans 

 
 
 
 
 
 

EVERLASTING CLASSIC 

MANLOVE 

 

 

 

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INVINCIBLE 
Copyright © 2012 by Gabrielle Evans 
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-371-8 
 
First E-book Publication: February 2012 
 
Cover design by Jinger Heaston 
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. 
 
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INVINCIBLE 

Haven 5 

 

GABRIELLE EVANS 

Copyright © 2012 

 
 
 
 
 

Prologue 

How the hell he’d gotten himself into his current situation, Torren 

Braddock couldn’t recall. The last thing he remembered was stepping 
off the plane at the landing strip just outside of Las Vegas. Jonas and 
Nicholas had been on the plane growling at each other, which was 
nothing new, and Torren had needed some air. 

The minute his boots made contact with the tarmac, everything 

went dark. He’d woken several times, each time feeling worse than 
the previous one. What the hell was wrong with him? His head 
throbbed, his mouth felt sticky, and he couldn’t move his arms or 
legs.  

The world was blurry and unfocused through his half-lidded eyes, 

but he was pretty certain he was in a cemetery. The sun beat down on 
him, warming his face, but Torren felt there was a reason he should be 
concerned about the sun. He just couldn’t remember what that reason 
was. 

His thought process was disjointed as though he was wading 

through miles of mental sludge. There was someone beside him, but 
he couldn’t make his neck muscles work so he could turn his head to 
find out who it was. There had been three people with him on that 

8 Gabrielle 

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plane. Four, if he counted the pilot. Five, after Bannon Murphy met 
them with the vehicle. 

If it was one of those five who rested beside him, he hoped it was 

Bannon. Not that he wished the shifter any harm, but he’d just 
remembered why the sun was bad. He was traveling with vampires. 
So, that meant if it was Bannon beside him, they were completely 
screwed until the moon rose. Fantastic.  

With a lot of effort, Torren finally forced his head to turn, 

unsurprised to see Bannon tied to the tombstone he was propped up 
against. Where were the others, though? Since his companion 
appeared to be unconscious with his chin resting firmly on his chest, 
Torren wouldn’t be getting any answers from him. 

Giving up, he closed his eyes, and drifted out of consciousness 

again. The next time he awoke, the cemetery was dark, cold, and 
eerily quiet. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 
Torren didn’t have the strength to turn his head and face the voice. 

“Where?” he croaked. The one word sounded slurred, harsh, and 
raspy. 

“Oh, your little vampire friends?” the man asked with amusement. 

“Not to worry. They’re safe for now and will be joining us soon 
enough. You should just rest for now.” 

Someone crouched down in his line of vision, but Torren couldn’t 

focus and the night was too dark to make out any discernible features. 
Something stuck his arm, right in the crook of his elbow, and then 
everything went dark again.  

 

* * * * 

 
Something had awoken him. He was sure of it, but he couldn’t 

figure out what had disturbed his sleep. Sitting up in bed, Aslan 
rubbed at his eyes and pushed his hair back from his face. 

“Who are you?” 

Invincible 9 

 

Snapping his eyes open, Aslan’s breath caught in his throat, and 

he scrambled backward, pressing himself against the headboard. A 
man he’d never met before stood beside his bed, towering over him 
with a frown. His long, black hair fell over his shoulders, his clothes 
appeared dirty and ripped, and he was so massive that Aslan was 
pretty sure the guy’s muscles had muscles. 

Shaking his head rapidly, he pulled his knees to his chest and 

wrapped his arms around his shins. It wasn’t the stranger’s enormous 
size that scared the hell out of him. It was the fact that he could see 
right through him to his door across the room. There was a kind of 
bluish glow about him that reminded Aslan of starlight, but it wasn’t 
nearly as peaceful. 

“Who are you?” the guy repeated. 
“Aslan,” he squeaked. 
“Aslan, I need your help.” The man was all business now as he 

began pacing the floor, linking his hands behind his back. “We are in 
a cemetery in Nevada. I don’t think we are far from the airstrip or the 
plane, but I can’t be sure. I need you to tell Stavion to send someone.” 
He stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest when Aslan 
didn’t answer. “Do you understand?” 

No, he didn’t understand any of this. All he knew was that there 

was an angry ghost in his room going on about cemeteries and saying 
he needed help. “Who’s with you?” he whispered, his voice quivering 
slightly. 

“There’s no time. You have to go to Stavion now. Get out of bed 

and go, Aslan.” He took a step forward, reaching out as though to 
touch him, and Aslan reacted accordingly. 

He squeezed his eyes closed, wrapped his arms over his head, and 

screamed until he thought his throat would bleed. When he finally 
managed to get himself under control, the ghost was gone. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Throwing the blankets back, he launched himself 

out of bed, darted for the door, and barreled out into the hall. Scared, 
shaking, and feeling like he was going to vomit, he didn’t 

10 Gabrielle 

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immediately see Galen until he smacked right into his friend. “I saw a 
ghost,” Aslan blurted at once. 

“Well, I saw Bannon,” Galen countered. 
They stared at each other for just a moment before both speaking 

again at the same time. “They’re in trouble.” 

Invincible 11 

 

 
 
 
 
 

Chapter One 

 
“We have twenty-seven days until Halloween. On average, it 

takes you approximately two weeks to find one person. We’re looking 
for three. Do you think this is a goddamn game?” Torren yelled the 
last question, slamming his fist against the doorframe of the entrance 
to Bannon’s bedroom. 

He needed to find his brothers, and Bannon Murphy was the best 

candidate to help him. The man’s resistant attitude was grating on his 
nerves, though. As the newly appointed elder of the Magiks, Torren 
was by all rights Bannon’s boss. Finding Torren’s brothers and the 
missing faerie, Camdin Maywater, was Bannon’s job. Why was he 
being such an asshole about everything? 

“Enough,” Bannon growled angrily. His attention turned to the 

smaller man on the bed, and he crawled up the mattress to pull his 
mate into his arms. “Not to worry, darlin’. Torren is just a bit out of 
sorts. No one is going to hurt ya.” 

Torren felt about three inches tall as he let out a deep breath and 

dropped his head. He hadn’t meant to scare Galen. He just wanted to 
find his family, and to do that, he needed Bannon’s cooperation. With 
such little time left, he really needed Galen’s special skills as well. If 
they combined their powers, the pair would be unstoppable. 

Still, that didn’t excuse his behavior. “He’s right. I’m sorry, 

Galen. This elder business is a lot more stressful than I thought it 
would be.” Gods, that was an understatement. Why had he thought he 
was cut out for this? “Add my personal issues on top of that, and I’m 
not really myself these days. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

12 Gabrielle 

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“Galen? Are you okay?” a small voice asked from behind Torren. 

“I heard shouting and banging. You’re not hurt are you?” 

Turning slowly, Torren watched as a young man even smaller 

than Galen slid past him and crawled up on the bed beside Bannon. 
He tucked his legs under him while he talked to his friend, and Torren 
couldn’t help but follow his every movement. 

That was Aslan. He vaguely recognized him from the night he’d 

sought help while being imprisoned in Nevada. Up until that moment, 
he hadn’t been able to work out why his astral body had appeared to 
the guy, but he had no problem understanding it now. 

Aslan was his mate. He felt it as sure as he felt his own heart 

beating. His skin tingled, his hands began to shake, and it was as 
though a thousand tiny explosions were detonating inside his body. 
The only person besides his family that he’d have a close enough 
connection with to travel outside of his body to deliver a message to 
was his mate. 

Since he didn’t know where his brothers were hiding, and was 

afraid of causing them harm if he could reach them, Torren had been 
trying to send a message to Stavion instead. He’d been very shocked 
to find himself in Aslan’s bedroom, staring down at the most 
gorgeous creature he’d ever seen. 

Silky, black curls that brushed just below his jaw showcased the 

long, slender column on his neck. While he was small, probably no 
more than five-four or five-five, his muscles were defined—long, 
lean, bunching in just the right places as he moved. 

Then as if in slow motion, he turned his head, pinning Torren with 

big, round eyes the color of melted milk chocolate. “You’re being 
very rude,” he chastised. His voice was quiet, soft, almost musical, 
and Torren found himself unable to answer for a second. 

“I apologize. Did I frighten you?” He didn’t want Aslan to be 

afraid of him. In just the two minutes since the man had entered the 
room, Torren already felt an overwhelming need to protect him and 
keep him safe. 

Invincible 13 

 

“A little,” Aslan admitted but shrugged. “I was mostly worried 

about Galen. You’re my mate, right? I’ve seen you before, but you 
were more glowy and see-through. I like you better this way.” He 
tilted his head to the side and grinned innocently. 

“Thank you?” Torren wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d been 

complimented.  

“Oh, you’re very welcome. If we’re mates, why haven’t you come 

to see me? Don’t you like me?” 

What a strange question. The underlying hurt in Aslan’s cheery 

voice was unacceptable, however. He should never feel sad or 
unwanted. “I’m afraid I don’t know you at all. I’d like to change that, 
though.” Torren would like to get to know him on several flat 
surfaces, but he figured he should probably keep that little thought to 
himself for the time being. 

“Okay.” Aslan bobbed his head, stood to his feet on the mattress, 

and jumped at Torren. Shocked at the man’s behavior, Torren reacted 
on instinct, catching his mate and holding him protectively to his 
chest. “Let’s go to my room,” Aslan suggested. 

Completely entranced by the little imp, Torren just nodded 

dazedly and followed his mate’s directions as he walked them across 
the hall and into Aslan’s room. He wasn’t sure how they made it there 
safely because he couldn’t take his eyes off of those perfectly shaped, 
pale lips. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Aslan warned before jerking him 

forward and crushing their mouths together. 

Torren had never met anyone as bold and forward as Aslan. It was 

refreshing, if a bit disconcerting. When he parted his lips to allow 
Aslan entrance and their tongues brushed together for the first time, 
Torren forgot to think about anything but devouring the man in his 
arms. 

Kissing Aslan should have been an Olympic sport. The guy was 

everywhere and everywhere in hurry. His hands moved frantically 
over Torren’s shoulders and chest, and his hips thrust in jerky 

14 Gabrielle 

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movements. He sucked on Torren’s tongue, bit his bottom lip, and 
growled fiercely when Torren didn’t respond with equal exuberance. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back?” he demanded breathlessly a 

moment later. 

“I’m trying,” Torren growled back. How was he supposed to kiss 

the man properly when he wouldn’t be still? 

“Am I doing it wrong?” Aslan whispered, ducking his head and 

peeking up at Torren through his long, dark lashes. 

Sitting on the side of his mate’s bed with Aslan in his lap, Torren 

cupped his face in both hands and smiled softly. The smaller man had 
no idea what he was doing, and was trying to make up for it with 
enthusiasm. Now that Torren understood, it was easier to steer them 
where they needed to go. 

“Slow,” he said quietly, dipping his head forward and brushing his 

lips gently across Aslan’s. “It’s not a race.” He pressed their lips 
together again, a little more insistently this time. “Can you feel the 
difference?” 

A sweet moan escaped through Aslan’s swollen lips, and his eyes 

drifted closed as he relaxed into Torren’s hold, allowing him to 
control the kiss. With more tenderness and care than he’d ever shown 
any of his previous lovers, Torren palmed the back of the man’s head 
and swept his tongue inside the warm depths of Aslan’s mouth. 

He kept his movements easy, languid, and undemanding. It didn’t 

take long for Aslan to catch on, and soon their tongues were moving 
together in a slippery, sensual glide. Torren’s dick swelled inside his 
jeans, straining at his zipper, but he ignored it. This wasn’t about sex, 
not yet anyway. They’d have plenty of time for that later. 

Unfortunately, it was going to have to be much later, because he 

had a job to do and missing people to find. There was also the issue of 
his children to discuss—though, he’d still not met them. He’d only 
just met Aslan, and already there were so many things that stood 
between them. 

“I need to talk to Bannon.” He pecked at Aslan’s lips in apology. 

Invincible 15 

 

Aslan shrugged and popped up from his lap like a jack-in-the-box. 

“Okay. I’ll wait here.” 

“Umm, yes.” Every time Aslan opened his mouth, Torren just 

grew more confused. He hoped it wasn’t going to be a recurring 
theme in their relationship. “I’ll be back.” He just didn’t qualify his 
return with a time frame. Shitty of him, but despite what everyone 
thought, he really didn’t have all the answers. 

 

* * * * 

 
Torren had said he’d be back. He’d even called him caro before 

he’d left the estate that night. Aslan hadn’t known what that meant, 
but when he looked it up on the computer in the library, he found out 
that it was Italian for “dear.” So, that meant it was an endearment. 
Torren had said he’d be back and called him by an endearment. 

He never came back, though. It had been almost a week, and he 

never came back. He didn’t even call. Hell, Aslan would have been 
happy to see him as that ghost thing he did. The only possible 
conclusion he could come to was that Torren didn’t want him. 

It wasn’t really anything new. Lots of people didn’t want him. 

Still, Torren was supposed to be his mate, so the guy had to like him. 
That was the rule. Granted, he didn’t know all the rules, but he’d 
asked everyone he’d come in contact with over the past week. 
Kendall and Jory had explained to him about the bond between mates. 
Stavion and Cassius had confirmed it. His friends were happy with 
their mates, so why was he still alone? 

Maybe he’d been too aggressive. He’d never really kissed anyone 

simply because he’d wanted to before, and he might have gotten a 
little carried away. Torren was just so gorgeous, though, and Aslan’s 
body had lit on fire the moment he’d set eyes on the witch. Torren had 
been very patient with him, showing him how he liked to be touched 
and kissed. If he wasn’t interested, surely he wouldn’t have taken the 
time to do that. Right? 

16 Gabrielle 

Evans 

 

“Aslan? What are you doing in here?” 
Coming out of his frantic thoughts, Aslan looked up to see 

Kendall standing over him where he sat in one of the squashy 
armchairs in the library. Worried and stressed about Torren, the 
question crossed him the wrong way. “Why can’t I be here? Is there 
something wrong with me being in the library?” he asked indignantly. 

Instead of getting mad, Kendall just rolled his eyes and knelt on 

the floor, resting a hand on Aslan’s knee. “I didn’t mean it like that, 
and you know it. Don’t be a dick. I was just wondering why you were 
in here alone.” 

His irritation drained away immediately, but he didn’t want to talk 

about the reasons he’d sought solitude. So, he shrugged and averted 
his eyes. He’d already confessed all of the sordid details of his brief 
time with Torren. There was no reason to drudge it up again. 

“It’s Torren, right?” Kendall patted his knee and sighed. “Honey, 

he’s not ignoring you on purpose. He said he’d be back, didn’t he? 
Cassius said he’s in Missouri right now, trying to find his brother.” 

“So, he doesn’t know how to use a phone?” 
“Torren doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who thinks about 

things like that. I think he’s used to being on his own. It doesn’t mean 
that he doesn’t want you. He just…well, he’s just kind of a selfish 
prick.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, and before he could stop it, the 

smile spread clear across his face. “I’m trying to be upset. Don’t make 
me smile.” 

“Aw, but you’re so cute when you smile.” Kendall poked him in 

the belly button as he laughed and pushed to his feet. “Stop moping 
around. He’ll be back, and then you can read him the riot act for 
making you wait so long.” 

Aslan thought it over for a moment and nodded firmly. Reaching 

out to take the hand Kendall held out for him, he stood from his chair 
and looked around the room. “His job is really important, isn’t it?” He 

Invincible 17 

 

knew Torren was an elder on The Council. The man had a lot of 
responsibilities, and a lot of people counted on him. 

“It is,” Kendall agreed. “But you’re important, too. Remember 

that.” 

“I don’t really know how to be someone’s mate,” Aslan 

confessed. He certainly didn’t know how to be mated to someone as 
powerful and prominent as Torren Braddock. 

“I’m still trying to figure it out.” Kendall winked before taking his 

hand and pulling him toward the door. “You’re probably going to 
screw up, and Torren will, too. You’ll both do it often and with great 
gusto as well. Then you’ll kiss and make up. No one is perfect, but 
you’ll figure it out as you go.” 

Absorbing the words as he allowed Kendall to lead him down the 

long corridor, Aslan wished he had a little more to go on than that. A 
starting place would be nice. No one needed to tell him that he was 
going to screw up—that was pretty much a given. What he really 
needed to know was about all the stuff in between the times he 
messed up. 

He knew what everyone thought about him. Even his friends 

considered him flighty, clueless, and probably marveled that he was 
able to function at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or understand what 
they were talking about. It wasn’t even that he had a microscopic 
attention span. 

It was just kind of hard to hear and focus on what they were 

saying over all of the other voices yelling inside his head. 

18 Gabrielle 

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Chapter Two 

 
Torren paced his temporary office in Casper, his head about to 

explode as he went over the list of things that still needed to be done. 

Two of his brothers were safe. They were making plans to locate 

the others. Camdin Maywater had been recovered, and once rested, 
Torren would talk to him about taking the fae seat on The Council. 

The Council. An entire governing body to rule those of their kind, 

and yet Torren still felt like he was alone in his endeavors. Elder 
Layke Winters was doing what he could to help, but their current 
crises involved the Magiks—Torren’s field of expertise by definition. 
There really wasn’t anyone else qualified to do the job. 

It hadn’t been easy, but Torren had finally convinced the other 

elders to postpone the execution of three of their prisoners. The witch, 
Natalie Halstead, deserved to die for her crimes against the 
paranormal world, and specifically those against the children of their 
world. She had information that he needed, though, and he couldn’t 
very well pry it out of her if she was dead. 

Phillip McCarthy was the hybrid bastard who’d held him prisoner 

in Nevada and had almost unleashed something that none of them 
would have been able to control. He’d been a cruel leader to the 
Olympia Coven of vampires before his brother, Nicholas, had 
challenged him and won control of the coven. The magic that lurked 
inside of him was dark and rotted, but again, Torren needed 
information from him. 

That left Enforcer Hollis Becker. Torren had no idea what role the 

shifter hybrid played in any of this mess, but if there was a chance 

Invincible 19 

 

that he was somehow connected to Natalie, well, Torren needed to 
know that, too. 

“You look like steam is going to start pouring out of your ears,” 

Lynk teased him as he sidled into the room and dropped down on the 
sofa. He still looked tired and a little haggard but in better health than 
he had when he’d first arrived in Casper. 

“You wanted us to help,” Raith added, following Lynk into the 

room. “You’re not letting us help, though.” 

“Both of you need to rest,” Torren hedged. He did want their help, 

but he was having trouble letting go and delegating the 
responsibilities. 

“Some things never change.” Raith settled into one of the 

armchairs and shook his head. “You’re such a control freak, brother. 
Believe it or not, both Lynk and myself are very capable witches. You 
don’t have to do everything on your own.” 

Logically, Torren knew this was true. However, he bought into the 

saying that if he wanted something done right, he should do it 
himself. He’d learned a long time ago not to depend on anyone. 
People had proven over and over that they would only let him down. 
He didn’t want to depend on someone, only to find out that when he 
needed them most, they vanished to leave him hanging in the wind. 

It wasn’t fair to his siblings. They’d never once given him a 

reason to doubt their word or loyalty. The life he’d led since they’d 
parted ways had jaded him, though, and he couldn’t just cast his 
doubts away like a dog shaking off water. 

“I heard a rumor,” Lynk said slowly, a mischievous smile sliding 

over his lips. “Is it true that you found your mate?” 

Torren kept his back to his brothers as he stared out the window 

into the night. “Yes.” Aslan probably hated him by now, though. It 
had been almost ten days since he’d said his good-byes with promises 
to return soon. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent Aslan a message, or in 
any other way tried to make contact with him. 

20 Gabrielle 

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Aslan made him weak. In the few minutes he’d spent with the 

younger man, Torren had entertained fantasies of giving up his 
rightful seat on The Council, ignoring all of his responsibilities, and 
just spending the rest of his days with his mate.  

Of course, he couldn’t do any of those things. So, it was just better 

for him to keep his distance until he had things straightened out with 
the prisoners and was on the right track to finding his still-missing 
brothers. 

“So, where is she?” 
“He.” 
If this surprised either of them, his brothers didn’t show it. 

“Okay,” Raith said calmly. “Where is he?” 

“Where he’ll be safe.” Besides Aslan being a huge distraction for 

him, it would also be very dangerous for the little man if the wrong 
people found out that he was mated to Torren. Natalie had attempted 
to kidnap Torren’s children in a desperate attempt to force him to 
hand over his powers to her. 

He didn’t even know his kids. Hell, until they’d found him in that 

attic in Phoenix, he hadn’t even known he had kids. Part of him still 
wasn’t completely convinced that the shifter pups belonged to him, 
either. When he’d heard who their mother was, it had seemed 
plausible. He’d had a brief affair with the wolf, but he didn’t 
remember exactly when. 

Still, he wanted to see the twins, find out for sure if they were his, 

and then…well, he didn’t exactly know what he wanted to do. The 
pups had been adopted by two she-wolves who loved them very 
much. He didn’t want to take the babies away from the women, but if 
they were indeed his children, they’d been born into a legacy that 
none of them could simply ignore. 

Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to the meeting and possible 

confrontation. He hadn’t met Raina—one of the pups’ mothers—but 
he’d met her brothers. Not only were they huge werewolves, but they 
hated Torren with every fiber of their beings. Not that he could blame 

Invincible 21 

 

them for trying to protect their sister and the people she loved, but he 
wasn’t interested in getting into a pissing contest with the men. 

“You know you’re being an asshole without me needing to tell 

you, right?” 

Torren pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily before 

turning to face Raith. “I check on him, but I need to settle things here 
before we can be together.” He hadn’t asked anyone about Aslan’s 
well-being. While he respected the Enforcers and maybe even 
considered a few of them friends, he didn’t trust them with something 
so important. 

At least four times since he’d left Aslan in Haven, Torren had 

traveled outside of his body, using his power of etheric projection to 
visit his mate’s room and watch him sleep. With each new visit, Aslan 
looked more tired and drained than the last.  

When Torren had checked on him three days ago, the little man 

had been sleeping fitfully, muttering under his breath as he thrashed 
around on the mattress. The dark circles under his eyes were 
prominent, even in the dim light of the room, and he looked thinner 
than when Torren had seen him in person. Seeing his mate like that 
caused a deep, painful ache in his heart, but there had been nothing he 
could do to soothe Aslan’s distress. 

Things had been hectic since that night, and he hadn’t been able to 

return. Still, Aslan was never far from his thoughts, and Torren knew 
he’d be making another trip once everyone was asleep.  

His brothers weren’t impressed, though. “You’re an idiot,” Lynk 

said with disgust, shaking his head while his eyes rolled in 
exaggeration. “Just go bond with him, already. He’ll be safer, you’ll 
be less distracted, and everyone will be a hell of a lot happier.” 

The mating bond between a witch and his or her consort was 

eternal. They would be twined together in every way possible—heart, 
mind, spirit, and lifeline. As long as one heart continued to beat, the 
other couldn’t die. It was one of the strongest, purest bits of magic in 
the world, but it still had its limits. 

22 Gabrielle 

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“Bonding with him isn’t guaranteed to keep him alive,” Torren 

responded flatly. Gunshot wounds, stab wounds, and a slew of other 
injuries could be overcome with their mating. Things like decapitation 
or having their hearts removed from their bodies—there was no 
coming back from that. 

“Damn, you’re a stubborn asshole.” Raith slouched back in his 

chair and crossed his arms over his chest, looking more stubborn than 
Torren was sure he ever had. “It’s been a long time since we last saw 
each other, but I can still read you like a book. You’re completely 
fucking miserable, and you have no one to blame but yourself.” 

“I have a stressful job. That doesn’t mean I’m miserable or that it 

has anything to do with Aslan.” Maybe keeping his distance wasn’t 
the most honorable thing to do, but it was with good intentions. 
Unless they could sort out the problems amongst the different 
communities and restore some kind of balance within their world, 
they were headed for war. 

“Oh, forget it. Tor doesn’t do emotional attachment.” Lynk 

yawned hugely before rising to his feet. “I’m going to bed. Good luck 
taking over the world.” 

Torren didn’t think that was fair at all. He was trying to save their 

world—not rule it. It was no secret that he was somewhat emotionally 
stunted when it came to personal relationships and expressing his 
feelings, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have feelings. 

He still stood by his claims that at some point everyone he 

allowed close to him would invariably let him down. While he cared 
deeply for his brothers, he had to include them in his statement.  

Most likely they wouldn’t mean to fail him, but given the 

selfishness of human nature—and paranormals were not excluded 
from this nature—it was very much every man for himself. When 
given the choice, survival instincts took over, and people would 
without question choose themselves and their needs above others. 

Invincible 23 

 

Raith pushed to his feet as well and shook his head, a sad look 

playing over his face. “It’s okay to trust people, Torren. Not everyone 
is going to hurt you.” 

Torren didn’t refute the man’s words as he watched him walk out 

of the room, but he knew different. And he knew it all too well.  

 

* * * * 

 

“You came back.” His eyes were still closed, but it was as if he 

could feel the presence of someone else in his room. He’d felt it at 
least twice before, but when he’d finally crawled out of the haze of 
sleep, he’d always been alone. 

“You look tired, caro. You aren’t taking care of yourself.” 
The smile that tilted the corners of his lips upward couldn’t be 

stopped. Aslan didn’t want to open his eyes, though. It might be a 
dream, and if he opened his eyes, he’d wake up to find the room 
empty. “I miss you,” he whispered. It didn’t make any sense. He’d 
spent a whole ten minutes with the man. How could he possibly miss 
him? 

“And I miss you,” Torren replied very quietly, just barely above a 

whisper. He sounded sad. Why was he sad? 

Blinking open his eyes, wanting to see the look on Torren’s face 

to confirm his suspicions, Aslan frowned when he got a good look at 
his mate. “You’re all glowy again.” 

Torren smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His onyx eyes looked 

haunted, lost. “It’s not safe for me to come here, but I had to make 
sure you were okay.” 

“You’ve been here before.” It wasn’t an accusation, nor was it a 

question. It was just a simple statement. Those other times when he’d 
felt like someone was watching him, hovering near him protectively, 
it had been Torren. 

Nodding slowly, Torren never took his eyes off him. “You’ve had 

bad dreams.” 

24 Gabrielle 

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Pushing up to a sitting position, Aslan curled his legs closer to his 

body and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. “Why are you 
so sad?” 

The question obviously surprised his mate. Torren’s eyebrows 

lifted, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open as if he would say 
something. Then the look was quickly—and unsurprisingly—turned 
to one of denial. 

Aslan didn’t understand why people, and men in particular, felt 

the need to hide when they were sad. Maybe they thought it made 
them weak. Sadness was a natural human reaction to unpleasant 
things, though. Aslan had been sad plenty of times in his life. He 
didn’t think that made him any less of a man, or any more of a 
weakling. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” He pulled one of his arms 

out of the blanket and patted the mattress beside him. “Come sit 
down. We can talk about something else.” 

Again, Torren looked surprised. Hesitantly, he closed the short 

distance between them and eased down onto Aslan’s bed. The 
mattress dipped with his weight, and though Aslan could still see right 
through him, he wondered if he could touch the man beside him. 

So, that’s what he did. His fingertips slid over the back of 

Torren’s hand, very gently caressing the knuckles. He could feel 
something, but it wasn’t as substantial as if he had been touching his 
own hand. “I can touch you, but not really.” He looked up and smiled 
as he tilted his head to the side. “Does that make sense?” Probably 
not. Not often did anything he said make sense. 

Torren’s lips crooked on one side into a half smile. “It makes 

sense. What would you like to talk about?” 

His mate was awfully formal. Maybe he’d been raised that way. 

Perhaps he’d gone to some preppy school where they taught classes in 
manners along with the rest of the curriculum. “Why didn’t you come 
back for real?” It was the question he’d been dying to ask, and now 
seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

Invincible 25 

 

“I…” Torren trailed off and pressed his lips together. Apparently, 

whatever he’d been about to say didn’t sit well with him for some 
reason. “You are a distraction.” 

Well, that hurt. 
“I told you so,” a feminine voice whispered inside his head. 
“We all told you that he was an asshole,” another voice 

commented, this one masculine, older, and with a slight accent. 

“You can do so much better than him. Just look at the way he 

won’t even meet your eyes. He doesn’t deserve you.” The last voice 
was also masculine, but hard, mean, and always sent a shiver down 
Aslan’s spine. 

“Shut up,” he whispered. He didn’t know how long he’d have 

with his mate, and he didn’t want to miss a second of it because the 
imaginary friends in his head wouldn’t shut the hell up. 

“Excuse me?” Torren shifted so that he could face him fully and 

frowned. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” 

“No! Not you.” Aslan closed his eyes and groaned. Why couldn’t 

he just be normal? 

“Well, we’re the only ones here. Who were you talking to if not 

me?” 

“No one. Forget it. So, did you find your brothers? Kendall said 

you went to Missouri to find one of your brothers.” 

“Make him leave,” the woman demanded. 
“Yes,” the accented male voice agreed. “He’s not welcome here.” 
“That’s not for you to decide.” Aslan growled, irritated with their 

less-than-happy thoughts about Torren. “Go away.” 

“You want me to go away?” Torren started to rise from the bed, 

but Aslan grabbed him around the wrist. 

Well, he didn’t really grab him because his hand went right 

through Torren’s arm, but he figured he got the point across, because 
Torren sat back down, looking at him very oddly. “Don’t leave,” 
Aslan pleaded. 

“You’re acting strange,” Torren accused. 

26 Gabrielle 

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“You see the way he’s looking at you,” the menacing voice 

taunted.  “He doesn’t really want to be here. That’s okay, though, 
because we don’t want him here. We don’t need him.” 

“I need him. Now, shut up!” He yelled the last word as he pressed 

both palms over his ears and shook his head violently. “Just leave me 
alone!” 

“Aslan, look at me,” Torren said sternly. He waited for Aslan to 

drop his hands and look up into his eyes before he spoke again. “What 
do you hear, caro?” 

“They don’t want you to be here,” he whispered. What did it 

matter what he said now? Torren probably already thought he was 
insane. 

“Who doesn’t want me to be here?” 
“I don’t know their names. Two are kind of nice, but the other one 

scares me,” he admitted. Fear was another emotion that most people 
denied having, though he still didn’t understand why. There were 
plenty of things in the world to be afraid of, and with good reason. 

Torren moved a little closer to him, his hand reaching out to hover 

just over Aslan’s cheek. “What do they want?” 

“It’s usually different stuff, but right now, they just want you to 

leave.” There was something in Torren’s tone and the way his eyes 
softened that gave Aslan hope. “Do you think I’m crazy?” 

“No, Aslan, I don’t think you’re crazy. Do they ever hurt you?” 
“I get headaches sometimes.” Aslan shrugged. He thought it was 

probably more from the constant noise than because the voices in his 
head were trying to hurt him, but he wanted to be honest with his 
mate. 

Torren nodded thoughtfully for a moment before he smiled 

weakly. “Go back to sleep now, caro.” 

“You’re leaving? Will you come back?” Aslan didn’t want to 

appear needy, but it wasn’t fair! Everyone else got to be happy. Why 
not him? 

Invincible 27 

 

“I’ll come see you tomorrow night. I promise.” Then he bent 

forward and brushed his lips over Aslan’s forehead.  

It wasn’t a real kiss, and it felt more like cool air than warm lips, 

but Aslan’s insides melted at the gesture. “I’ll wait up for you,” he 
promised in return. 

“Just rest,” Torren whispered. “We’ll see each other very soon.” 

28 Gabrielle 

Evans 

 

 
 
 
 
 

Chapter Three 

 
“Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that Aslan is a witch? And a 

fucking Limina at that?” Torren prowled about Stavion’s office, 
throwing his hands in the air in explosive movements while he raved 
at the coven leader. 

“A what?” Stavion sat calmly behind his desk, reclined in his 

chair with his fingers carded together and resting on his chest. 

The vampire’s lack of urgency pissed Torren off, though he knew 

he was overreacting. Knowing didn’t dissipate any of his anger, 
though. “A Limina!” he shouted, as though if he said it loud enough it 
would suddenly make sense. 

Raven chuckled as he leaned against the wall and shook his head. 

“We heard what you said, asshole. What is a Limina, though?” 

The Enforcer was right. They weren’t going to get anywhere if 

Torren didn’t calm his ass down and start making sense to everyone 
but himself. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to stop his 
nervous pacing and exhaled in a great whoosh. “Aslan is a witch.” 

“Yeah, we got that,” Raven said with a snort. “If you want to 

know why we didn’t tell you, I can give you two reasons. Number one 
is because it’s none of your fucking business since you just 
abandoned him. Number two is because we didn’t know. I’m not even 
sure if he knows.” 

Torren wanted to argue that he hadn’t abandoned Aslan, but none 

of the people in the room would understand, so he didn’t waste his 
breath. “He’s not just any witch, though. He’s a Limina, a Mortuos 
Limina.” 

Invincible 29 

 

“Translation?” Cassius looked merely curious as he lounged in 

one of the armchairs. 

“Mortuos Limina translates literally to ‘the threshold of the dead.’ 

Aslan is the threshold, the Limina. He’s like this portal or gateway 
between the realms of the living and dead.” 

Well, that finally seemed to get everyone’s attention. Stavion sat 

forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk. “What does 
that mean?” 

“He’s hearing voices in his head. I don’t think he knows what they 

are, though. He just thinks he’s crazy.” If anyone questioned when 
Torren had spoken to Aslan or how he knew these things, they didn’t 
interrupt to ask. “He’s hearing spirits trapped in Purgatory.” 

“Wait.” Stavion held his hand up for silence, and then walked 

around his desk to start pacing near the fireplace. “Okay, so he’s 
hearing dead people in his head. These dead people are trapped in 
Purgatory. You said Aslan is a threshold.” He stopped and looked up 
at Torren. “What exactly does that mean? He just hears these spirits 
and passes on their messages?” 

Torren wished it was that simple. “There are different reasons that 

a soul can be trapped in Purgatory. Some are there because they 
choose to be. Some are benevolent, while others are cold and 
vicious.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven called, twirling his hand to get Torren to 

speed things along. “Can you get to the point?” 

Torren really didn’t like the jackass sometimes. “These spirits will 

batter at him, weaken his defenses, and if they time it right, they can 
gain a foothold in our world through Aslan.” 

“What defenses?” Cassius asked. “You mean to say that he can 

prevent this?” 

Torren nodded slowly. “I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it right 

now. I can help him, though.” 

30 Gabrielle 

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“Why do I feel like there’s more that you aren’t telling us?” 

Stavion rested his hands on his hips and glared. “What’s going on, 
Torren?” 

“He’s been getting headaches. If these spirits can cause him 

physical pain then he’s already breaking down. He’s also afraid. 
They’ll feed on his fear, grow stronger because of it.” 

“What happens if they cross through this gateway?” Cassius’s 

eyebrows were drawn together and his brow furrowed. 

“There is always a sacrifice in magic. If the balance is upset, it 

must be restored.” Only one soul would be able to pass through the 
threshold, and only if Aslan allowed it. There would be a price to pay, 
though. 

“Sacrifice,” Stavion mumbled to himself. Then his head lifted, 

pinned Torren with his amber gaze, and even before he spoke, Torren 
realized that the coven leader understood. “Aslan is that sacrifice.” 

 

* * * * 

 
Freshly showered and dressed in his tightest jeans, Aslan sat at the 

foot of his bed, staring down at his bare toes as he vibrated in 
anticipation. Torren was coming. He’d promised this time, and Aslan 
believed him. No matter what the voices in his head kept telling him, 
Torren was coming for him. 

So when the soft knock sounded at his bedroom door, Aslan 

sprang up from the bed and dove across the room to wrench it open. 
Dressed in a thin, black sweater and dark khakis, Torren Braddock’s 
enormous six-foot-four frame filled his doorway. Aslan was a little 
disappointed to see that his ebony hair was pulled back, but not 
enough to comment on it. 

It was his eyes that held Aslan immobile, though. He’d never met 

anyone with black eyes before. There was a slight glimmer to the 
onyx, tiny gold flecks just around the pupil that added a touch of 
warmth to Torren’s otherwise chiseled features. 

Invincible 31 

 

The smile Torren gave him was fast and easy. “Hello, caro.” 
“I looked that up,” Aslan informed his mate. “It’s nice, so that 

means you like me, right?” 

Torren chuckled, the rumbling sound coming straight from his 

chest and warming Aslan’s insides. “Yes, Aslan. That means I like 
you very much.” 

Stepping to the side of the door, Aslan couldn’t take his eyes off 

the man. How did he get so lucky as to have someone like Torren for 
a mate? “Would you like to come in? Are you going to stay?” 

His smile slipped a notch, and Torren shook his head. “I can’t 

stay.” 

Aslan’s heart felt like it was going to fall out of his butt. “Will you 

come back?” He refused to be whiney and needy, but he was 
beginning to think that he wasn’t ever going to get to spend some 
quality time with the man. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come to Casper with 

me. I have to do my job, but I’d like for you to stay with me.” 

Aslan wanted to be with his mate, but Haven had become his 

home. It was the first place he’d ever felt like he had a real family and 
people to care about him. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “I 
want to go with you, but what about my friends?” 

Palming the side of Aslan’s face, Torren smiled and his eyes 

softened marginally. “It’s just for a little while. Your friends are 
welcome to visit, and once things settle down, we can come here as 
often as you like.” His gaze raked over Aslan’s body from head to toe 
as he spoke, and his eyebrows drew together like he was confused 
about something. “What are you wearing?” 

“Do you like it?” He’d copied the look from a movie he’d 

watched with Jory. The movie sucked as usual, but the guy was hot.  

Standing up a little straighter, he trailed his fingers down the light-

blue material of the scarf that was wrapped around his neck. It fell 
over his shoulders and down his nude chest, the fringes barely 
brushing against his hips. The jeans he’d acquired from Kendall, but 

32 Gabrielle 

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they were his favorite. Very tight, stonewashed, and artfully ripped, 
they showed off more skin than they covered. Aslan felt sexy when he 
wore them, and he’d wanted to look very tempting for his big mate. 

“Your hair.” Torren touched Aslan’s temple, fingering the much 

shorter locks there. “What did you do?” 

“Well, I cut it.” Aslan shrugged. It was just hair. It would grow 

back. He’d felt that his long, curling tresses made him look like a 
child, so he’d asked Raina to cut it for him. Now it was short, spikey, 
expertly styled, and he felt like a rock star. 

“I can see that.” Torren didn’t look very happy about it, though. 

“Why are you wearing a scarf and no shirt? It’s cold outside.” 

Aslan rolled his eyes and huffed. The man really needed to lighten 

up and stop being so practical and stuffy. “Because it makes me feel 
sexy, and I wanted to look nice for you. If you don’t like it, then you 
don’t have to look at me.” 

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Torren looked 

like he’d never been spoken to that way. His eyes widened, his 
nostrils flared, and a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. 

Actually, considering what an important man he was in the 

paranormal world, he probably only garnered the utmost respect from 
other people. That didn’t mean Aslan was going to take it back, 
though. He liked how he looked. It made him feel good about himself 
for the first time in his life, and no one—not even Mr. Tight Ass—
was going to take that away from him. 

“See, he doesn’t even appreciate the things you do for him. 

Typical man,” the female voice said haughtily. “And now he wants to 
take you away from your friends.” 

“And your home,” the accented male voice added. “He will only 

break your heart, my dear.” 

“Make him leave!” The last voice was loud, growly, and vicious, 

turning Aslan’s blood cold and sending a shiver of dread up his spine. 

“Aslan?” Torren stepped a little closer, slid his knuckles under 

Aslan’s chin, and urged his face up. “Are the voices back?” 

Invincible 33 

 

It was such a relief for someone to finally know his secret and 

believe him. “They never really leave. Sometimes, they’re just quiet.” 

“I can help you. Do you want to make them go away?” 
“Well, duh.” Popping his hip out to the side, Aslan crossed his 

arms over his chest and gave his mate a look he hoped portrayed just 
how ridiculous he found the man. 

Torren looked like he wanted to be mad, but he just couldn’t quite 

make it there. So, after a few seconds of glaring, he finally gave up 
and started laughing. The longer his laughter rolled on, the louder it 
got, and it was so infectious that Aslan couldn’t stop from giggling 
right along with him. 

“You are going to be trouble,” Torren said when he’d finally 

gotten himself under control. 

Aslan winced and looked away, his good mood plummeting 

quickly. “I don’t mean to be trouble.” He’d gotten himself into some 
unusual situations since he’d arrived in Haven, but they weren’t 
intentional. How was he supposed to know that it was a bad idea to 
use laundry soap in the dishwasher? He’d just been trying to help, not 
flood the kitchen in bubbles. 

“Look at me.” It was said softly, but there was an authority in 

Torren’s voice that had Aslan snapping his head up to meet his mate’s 
gaze immediately. “I wasn’t making fun of you.” Aslan started to look 
away again, but Torren gripped his chin in his massive paw and held 
him still. “I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“He’s lying,” a voice whispered in his head. It wasn’t loud, but 

Aslan recognized the snakelike quality in the timbre. “He doesn’t 
want you. You’re too much trouble.” 

He tried to work out the right thing to do, but it was so hard to 

concentrate with the voice hissing inside his head. If Torren didn’t 
want him, then he wouldn’t have come for him. Right? That made 
sense. 

“He wants to use you, to take you away from your friends. He 

wants to hurt you.” 

34 Gabrielle 

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Torren said he could make the voices go away, and Aslan wanted 

that more than anything. There wasn’t a time in his life when he could 
ever remember being alone inside his own head. Even when he was a 
child, there had always been “someone” whispering in his ear, 
wanting him to do things. He’d tried telling his parents, but that 
hadn’t gone very well at all. They just thought he was crazy. 

“Maybe I am crazy,” he muttered under his breath. Maybe the 

voices weren’t real at all, and they existed only in his imagination. 

“You’re not crazy, caro.” Torren bent from the waist and pressed 

his lips to Aslan’s forehead. “I can help you, but I need you to trust 
me. Come home with me.” 

“This is my home.” Gods, he was so confused. He wanted Torren, 

and who wouldn’t? The guy just oozed sex appeal. Even his deep, 
rich voice was like a liquid wet dream that sent fire coursing through 
Aslan’s veins. 

Haven was his safe place, though, just like the name implied. No 

one could hurt him here. He didn’t believe that Torren wanted to hurt 
him like the voice said. He just didn’t know the man well enough to 
trust him unconditionally. 

“This can still be your home,” Torren answered after a minute of 

watching him. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but I can’t stay here. 
I’m needed in Casper, and I need you with me.” 

Well, that was a lot of needing. The Council needed Torren, and 

Torren needed Aslan, and Aslan…well, he didn’t know what the hell 
he needed except for the murmuring in his head to stop. “Do you want 
me? Or do you just need me because I’m your mate?” Was there a 
distinction between the two? He didn’t know, but he felt like it was 
important. 

“I definitely want you with me.” 
That didn’t sound right, though. The night before, Torren had 

called him a distraction. Now he wanted him? Aslan knew he wasn’t 
the brightest crayon in the proverbial box, but he definitely wasn’t 

Invincible 35 

 

stupid. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled, jerking away from Torren and 
taking a step backward. 

“I’m not lying.” 
“You said I was a distraction.” 
“You are.” Torren sounded so calm and matter-of-fact. It did little 

to appease Aslan’s anger. 

“Then you can’t want me. Why are you lying to me?” 
“They always lie. He wants to use you. Then he’ll discard you just 

like everyone else.” 

“I’m not lying,” Torren repeated. “You are a distraction for me. I 

think about you, worry about you constantly. You make me…weak.” 

“He lies,” the cruel voice hissed. “He only thinks of himself.” 
“Shut up.” 
Torren narrowed his eyes, studying him intently before he 

continued talking. “When I’m near you, I forget everything else, all 
the reasons that people depend on me. It’s not safe for us to be apart 
anymore, though.” He stepped closer, holding his hand out with the 
palm up. “Let me help you. Let me take care of you.” 

Aslan didn’t need a keeper, though. “I’m not some animal in the 

fucking zoo! I don’t need you to take care of me!” 

“That’s right. You can stand alone. No one gives you enough 

credit.” 

“Shut up!” Aslan knocked his fist against the side of his head. He 

was so mad, but he didn’t know why or what had caused it. Torren 
hadn’t really said anything that warranted his overemotional reaction. 
He just needed to think, and he needed quiet to do it. 

“Your friends never put you first. Why should your mate? They all 

have each other and their own mates. They don’t need you anymore. 
No one needs you.” 

“Shut up!” he screamed, rapping his knuckles against his temple 

as if he could beat the voice out of his brain. “I hate you. I hate this. 
Just leave me alone!” His head started to throb and pressure built 
behind his eyes until his vision dimmed around the edges. 

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“I can make it stop.” Torren knelt in front of him and grabbed his 

face in both hands. “I can show you how to make it stop. Please, 
caro.” 

It was the worry in his eyes and the concern in his tone that finally 

broke Aslan. Sure, Torren could possibly be faking the look, but 
Aslan didn’t think so. What other options did he have? He was 
supposed to stand beside his mate. Besides, he really, really wanted 
those people out of his head. 

Nodding slowly, he reached out and placed his hand in Torren’s, 

lacing their fingers together. “Okay.” 

“No!” 
Pain exploded in Aslan’s temples, and he felt himself jerked 

backward as though there was an invisible rope tied around his 
midsection. His foot caught the edge of the bedframe, sending him 
tumbling to the floor with nothing to break his fall. 

The back of his head connected with something hard and 

unyielding, causing him more sickening pain. He thought he heard 
someone call his name, but it sounded far away and hollow like in a 
dream. Aslan welcomed the darkness that enveloped him in its warm 
embrace, drowning out all noise, all sights, and all of his pain. 

Invincible 37 

 

 
 
 
 
 

Chapter Four 

 
Head wounds bleed. A lot. 
Torren had to keep reminding himself of that as he performed a 

healing spell on his mate to seal the gash in the back of his head from 
where he’d hit it on the corner of the nightstand. It really didn’t help 
to calm him, though. His hands were shaking, his heart was trying to 
punch through his chest, and his stomach rolled uncomfortably. 

The blood soaking into the beige carpet looked like an 

extraordinary amount. How could such a tiny person bleed so much? 
Aslan looked pale, and he didn’t even twitch as Torren held him to his 
chest and rocked him back and forth. 

This was bad. This was oh so very bad. If the spirits were able to 

physically control Aslan, then they didn’t have much time. Before he 
could help his mate close the gateway, though, he had to find out what 
was causing Aslan’s defenses to deteriorate. 

Just then, as he rocked the smaller man and stroked his spine, 

none of it really mattered. All Torren cared about was seeing Aslan’s 
eyes open again. Natalie, Phillip, Becker, The Council, the witches, or 
impending war—none of it even registered on his radar just then. 
They could all go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned.  

Aslan needed him. While he hadn’t been a very good mate up to 

this point, that was all about to change. It was obvious that he was 
only doing more damage than good—to both of them—by keeping his 
distance. The fact that he hadn’t even known what Aslan was until the 
previous night was no excuse. 

He’d been afraid. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to feeling. So 

he’d dealt with it the only way he knew how—kicking its ass, pushing 

38 Gabrielle 

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it to the back of his mind, and pretending like it didn’t exist. As long 
as he stayed away from Aslan, there was nothing to fear. If he didn’t 
acknowledge their status as a bonded pair, then he didn’t have to 
worry about becoming weak or vulnerable. If no one knew they were 
fated for each other, then no one could use Aslan against him. 

Aslan needed him, though. Torren was the only one who could 

help him now. Finally submitting to what he’d known all along, he 
also realized that he didn’t want the man to depend on anyone but 
him. That same protective instinct that had welled up inside of him 
upon their first meeting resurfaced, dragging with it a healthy dose of 
possessiveness. 

A soft, pain-filled groan reached his ears as Aslan’s eyelids began 

to flutter, and his head rolled back and forth against Torren’s 
shoulder. “Open your eyes, baby.” Please be okay. 

“Hurts,” Aslan moaned, but his eyes finally opened, and he tilted 

his head back on his shoulders to look up at Torren. “What 
happened?” 

“You fell and hit your head.” It wasn’t technically a lie, though 

not exactly the truth, either. Torren didn’t want his little man getting 
all worked up and hurting himself again, though. “Do you feel 
nauseous? Is your vision blurry?” Torren held up two fingers close to 
Aslan’s nose. “How many fingers do you see?” 

The giggle he received in return warmed his heart and made him 

feel like a king. “I’m fine. My neck is a little stiff, and my head is 
really sore. Other than that, I’m pretty sure I’m going to survive.” 

“Smart-ass.” Torren pressed his lips against Aslan’s forehead, 

relief flooding him that his mate was well enough to poke fun at his 
concern. “What can I do to make you feel better?” That was his job 
now—the most important job. Whatever Aslan wanted or needed, 
Torren would provide it. He still had his responsibilities as elder, but 
the moment he’d stopped fighting the pull he felt to be with his mate, 
Aslan had become his priority. 

Invincible 39 

 

“My scarf is ruined.” Aslan pouted, his bottom lip protruding as 

he examined the stained material. 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” 
Aslan peered up at him for a minute before his eyes lit up and his 

soft, pink lips parted in a grin. His arms shot out to lock around 
Torren’s neck, squeezing him tightly as he molded their mouths 
together. “Thank you,” he breathed long moments later when they 
finally pulled apart. 

Hell, if it got him another kiss like that, Torren would buy his 

little man a whole truckload of scarves in every color he could find. 
He hadn’t wanted this. It was too dangerous for them to be together, 
but every time he looked into those deep brown eyes, he found 
himself helpless against their magnetism. 

He’d never felt anything with such extremity and swiftness as the 

emotions that crashed over him like a tidal wave when Aslan said his 
name. He blamed it on the magic that flowed between them, pulling 
them closer and closer to the vortex until they’d finally be sucked in 
together and remolded as one. 

It was the only thing that made sense. The only reason he could 

think of why he’d only just met the man yet he knew he would do, 
say, and be whatever Aslan needed. The bond between two fated 
witches was powerful, encompassing, intense, and consuming.  

“You’re looking at me funny. Why do you always look at me 

funny?” 

“Do you always just blurt out what you’re thinking?” 
Aslan dropped his head to the side and lifted it in a jerky motion 

that was like shrugging but with his head. “Well, how else are you 
supposed to know if I don’t tell you?” 

Torren chuckled in spite of himself. The man had a point. “You 

are something else.” He kissed the tip of Aslan’s nose and patted the 
man’s hip to get him to stand. “How are you feeling now?” 

40 Gabrielle 

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“Better. Just a little sore right here.” He rubbed at the back of his 

head, grimacing when his hand came away bloody. “Can I take a 
shower and change before we leave?” 

Though a bit shocked that Aslan was still willing to travel back to 

Casper with him, Torren kept his face impassive as he nodded once. 
“That’s probably a good idea. Would you like me to pack your things 
while you shower?” 

Sidling up to him and rubbing against his chest like a cat in heat, 

Aslan even purred. “I’d like it better if you took a shower with me.” 

Torren swallowed hard as his cock jerked inside his khakis. Oh, 

sweet mercy, he was in so much trouble. “I don’t think that’s a good 
idea.” 

Rolling his eyes, Aslan palmed Torren’s growing erection through 

the fabric of his pants and squeezed. “This says otherwise.” 

Oh, his cock was all for the idea of getting Aslan naked and 

slippery. His brain was the part of his anatomy rebelling. The pull to 
claim his other half and bind them was too strong, though, and he 
couldn’t—would not—do that without his mate’s approval. He had 
doubts that Aslan even knew he was a witch, and that meant the guy 
wouldn’t understand the enormity of what encompassed their 
bonding. 

“We need to talk.” He never knew that four little words could be 

so painful to speak. His cock throbbed angrily inside his boxers, 
begging that he shut the fuck up and just take what was so willingly 
offered. 

“Talk later,” Aslan mumbled, slipping his hands beneath the hem 

of Torren’s sweater and caressing the taut skin covering his abs. 

Torren couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped him as those 

small hands roamed his stomach, mapping out each clenching muscle 
with his fingertips before moving up to pinch and tug at his nipples. 
There was something important that he’d been about to say. He was 
sure of it. Aslan’s hands on him short-circuited his brain, though, and 

Invincible 41 

 

any thought not related to having his mate naked and writhing on his 
cock was forgotten. 

This wasn’t right. He was bigger, stronger, older—definitely the 

alpha of the relationship. He should be the aggressor, the dominant 
seducer. Never in all of his years had he ever been as bold and 
straightforward in his pursuit of someone as the man pawing at him. 
Aslan knew what he wanted and wasn’t shy about demanding he get 
it. 

“You’re supposed to want me. Jory said you would want me.” 
“Oh, make no mistake, little one. I definitely want you.” He was 

going out of his mind with wanting his mate. Grabbing Aslan around 
the wrists to stop his wandering hands, he gently eased the man away 
from him and took a deep, calming breath. “We need to talk.” 

Aslan hung his head, his arms going limp in Torren’s grasp. “I’m 

sorry if I did it wrong.” 

That did it. Torren’s heart shattered right there in his chest. “Come 

here, baby.” He turned them so that he could sit on the side of the bed 
and urged Aslan into his lap. The man complied, but there was no 
eagerness about him any longer. It was though he was simply doing 
what he thought was expected of him. “Now, I want you to look at 
me.” 

Again, Aslan did as he was told. “I’m sorry,” he repeated in a 

whisper. 

“Stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Crap, he wasn’t good at 

explaining things. He could fire off commands without a second 
thought, but he would be screwed if anyone ever asked him to explain 
the reasoning behind his orders. 

“Then why don’t you want me to touch you? I thought you liked 

it.” 

“I did like it.” He shifted uncomfortably as Aslan’s ass pressed 

against his aching cock. “Aslan, do you understand what it means to 
be mates?” 

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Aslan nodded at once. “I asked everyone who would talk to me. 

They said that we’re supposed to be there for each other, take care of 
each other…” He trailed off and pressed his hand to his mouth to 
muffle his giggle. Gods, that was cute. “They also said that we’d want 
to fuck like bunnies.” 

His cock jerked again, registering nothing of that sentence besides 

“fuck.” Focus! “There is that, but there’s also a little more to it. Did 
anyone tell you about claiming a mate?” 

“Yes,” Aslan answered proudly. “Galen was really scared at first 

because he didn’t want to die, but he loves Bannon so I guess he’s 
okay now.” His eyebrows drew together, and he wrinkled his nose. “It 
means that we’ll always be together no matter what. You have to love 
me if you claim me.” He nodded firmly as though since he’d declared 
it that meant it was now written in stone. 

“And what if I don’t love you?” It would be very easy to love 

Aslan. He barely knew the guy, though. Besides, Torren wasn’t sure 
he was capable as such a deep emotion. He cared about his brothers, 
but wasn’t sure he’d exactly call it love. Hell, he could barely stand 
himself. 

Aslan looked confused. “But you have to love me if you claim 

me.” 

“That’s why I asked you to stop.” He didn’t want to hurt his mate. 

He felt very protective of Aslan. He wanted to keep him safe and 
make him happy, but he couldn’t make himself love the man. “When 
I’m close to you, I want to claim you. That doesn’t mean I love you, 
though.” 

“But you have to!” Aslan yelled, frantically scrambling to get out 

Torren’s lap. “That’s the rule. That’s how it works! I’m your mate. 
You are the one person in the world that has to love me even if I’m 
crazy and stupid!” 

“Aslan, stop it.” Torren reached for him, but the little man jerked 

away and wrapped his arms around his torso. “You are not crazy or 

Invincible 43 

 

stupid. How do you expect me to love you when I hardly even know 
you? Do you love me?” 

“Yes,” Aslan said firmly. “We’re mates.” 
With a heavy sigh, Torren closed his eyes and scrubbed at his 

face. Aslan’s overwhelming need for acceptance wasn’t something 
he’d anticipated. He highly doubted the man loved him. There was no 
telling what his friends had told him, but he’d somehow twisted it in 
his head to mean that once he found his mate it would be love at first 
sight and singing birds in the background. 

Torren didn’t know what rules Aslan was talking about, but it was 

obvious that he was confused, and it was making him highly agitated. 
Aslan kept one arm wrapped around his waist, rocking back and forth 
as he rapped at the side of his head with the other. 

“Shut up!” he screamed. “I’m not useless!” 
Frozen in place by shock, Torren watched as Aslan continued to 

scream and curse while he alternated between knocking his knuckles 
against his temple and pulling violently at his earlobe. 

“Get out!” he exploded. “All of you shut the fuck up and get out 

of my head!” 

Before Torren could make a move to stop his mate’s self-harming 

behavior, the bedroom door burst open, and Raven, Demos, and to his 
complete surprise and bewilderment, Raith came charging into the 
room. 

They all rushed to Aslan, surrounding him and trying to calm him. 

Torren’s nostrils flared and a red haze settled over his vision when 
Raith lifted Aslan into his arms and pressed his lips to the man’s ear. 

Aslan stilled instantly, sagging in Raith’s arms, obviously asleep. 

“I’ve got this,” he told the vampire Enforcers before jerking his head 
at Torren. “You deal with that.” 

Both men turned on him, advancing menacingly toward Torren. 

“Leave,” Demos snarled, his tone low and dangerous. 

“I’m not leaving my mate,” Torren argued. Were they out of their 

fucking minds? 

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“You have done nothing but hurt him,” Raith said quietly as he 

lowered Torren’s mate to the mattress and tucked the blankets up 
around his shoulders. “You need to leave, Tor. You’re only making 
things worse for him.” 

As if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, Torren found he 

couldn’t breathe. “He needs me.” 

“No.” Demos pointed toward the door. “Get out.” 
Torren stood, but he had no intentions of going anywhere. “None 

of you understand what’s going on. I’m the only one who can help 
him now. He needs me!” Why weren’t they listening to him? It wasn’t 
as if he’d caused Aslan’s breakdown. 

“He was screaming so loud that I could hear him from down the 

hall.” Raven spoke calmly, but there was murder in his dark eyes. “I 
come in here to find him practically beating his own head in while 
you sat there and did nothing to stop it. You don’t deserve him.” 

It wasn’t like that at all. He’d just been so stunned by Aslan’s 

behavior that he hadn’t been able to move. The outburst had barely 
even started when the men had exploded into the room. Right? “I—” 

“Get out!” Raven roared, grabbing him by the shirt collar and 

propelling him toward the open door. He kept shoving until Torren 
was out in the hall. Then he gave him one last withering glare and 
slammed the door in his face. 

“I knew I didn’t like you.” 
Spinning around, still wondering what the hell had just happened, 

Torren found himself face to face with Kieran Delany—his pups’ 
uncle for all intents and purposes. Could this night get any worse? 

“Well, the feeling is mutual. Now fuck off.” 
“No.” Kieran pushed away from the wall and crossed his arms 

over his chest. “It’s time we get some shit straight. You’re not getting 
in that room to Aslan, but there is someone else here that you need to 
meet.” 

Invincible 45 

 

He spun on his heels and started marching down the long corridor. 

Resigned to probably getting his ass kicked before the sun rose, 
Torren huffed and took off after the werewolf. 

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Chapter Five 

 
“Ah, shit,” Aslan groaned, as he clutched at his temples with both 

hands. 

“Easy.” A stranger sat beside him on the bed—a stranger that 

looked very much like his mate. 

“Where’s Torren? Where did he go?” He tried to sit up, but the 

man put a hand to his chest, keeping him from moving. 

“You need to relax. Everything is going to be okay now. We 

won’t let him hurt you anymore.” He turned to look at Raven and 
Demos over his shoulder. “Thank you for calling me.” 

“I was afraid something like this would happen.” Demos sighed 

and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I don’t like Torren, 
but I don’t think he’s a good mate for Aslan. The kid needs someone 
who understands him, someone gentle. Torren is neither of those 
things.” 

Aslan was getting more pissed off with every word out of their 

stupid mouths. They did realize that he was sitting right there, right? 
He didn’t appreciate being talked about like he wasn’t there or was 
too stupid to understand. “Where is Torren?” 

“Shh,” the stranger said, obviously trying to soothe him. “He can’t 

hurt you.” 

Why did he keep saying that? Torren would never hurt him. 

“Where. Is. My. Mate?” He bit off each word, allowing an unfamiliar 
growl to slip into his voice. “I want Torren.” 

“Raith?” Raven asked uncertainly. “Why is he asking for 

Torren?” 

Invincible 47 

 

“I’m sitting right fucking here!” Aslan screamed, shoving the 

man’s hand off of him and launching out of bed before anyone could 
stop him. “Tell me where he is!” 

“Aslan, do you remember what happened?” Raith asked him, 

keeping his voice soft and even as though coaxing a frightened child. 
“You’re covered in blood. You were screaming when we got here like 
you were in pain. Don’t you remember?” 

For big bad warriors, they were really freaking dense. “I hit my 

head on the nightstand. Torren healed me. He would never, ever hurt 
me.” He felt it with conviction right down to his soul. “He says he 
doesn’t love me, but that doesn’t mean he would hurt me.” 

The three men shared confused looks. “How can he love you?” 

Raven asked. “He doesn’t even know you.” 

Aslan shrugged. It was the same thing Torren had said to him, but 

he knew his mate was just scared. There was something that sparked 
between them every time they were together. The feeling was more 
intense and combustible than anything Aslan had ever felt in his life. 
He’d overreacted and panicked. That was stupid. He’d know better 
next time.  

Whatever was between him and Torren wasn’t some silly love-at-

first-sight crap like they told in fairy tales. It was much deeper than 
that. He didn’t understand it, didn’t know where this certain 
knowledge came from that they were destined for one another. And 
though it was true that he’d spent only hours in Torren’s presence, it 
was as though he’d known the man for a lifetime. 

“He loves me. He just won’t admit it.” 
The men exchanged those annoying looks again. “Why were you 

screaming?” Demos asked cautiously. 

Aslan paused, unsure how much he should share. They’d probably 

just think him insane like everyone else did. However, if it got them 
to stop talking about Torren like he was the bad guy, then he’d deal 
with their skepticism. “The voices in my head were hurting me.” 

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Everyone just nodded as though that sort of thing happened every 

day. “Torren told us about the…voices.” Raven shook his head and 
frowned. “You were hurting yourself, Aslan. You were beating your 
damn head, and he was just sitting there.” 

He didn’t remember much about what had happened before he’d 

passed out, but he distinctly remembered Torren standing from the 
bed. “He was about to help me when you ran in here. I saw him 
standing up to come to me. You stopped him.” He spat the last part in 
accusation. Aslan appreciated that they all cared about him and 
wanted to protect him, but he didn’t need saving from Torren. “Where 
is he?” 

Raith was looking at him all funny, and Aslan didn’t like it. It 

made him feel weird, like a specimen under a microscope. “Aslan, I 
want you to do something for me.” 

Aslan eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want me to do?” 
“Just trust me.” When Aslan only arched an eyebrow at him, Raith 

sighed and bobbed his head. “Do this, and then I’ll bring Torren to 
you.” 

“Okay.” Why hadn’t the guy just said so in the first place? “What 

do I do?” 

“I want you to close your eyes and think about Torren.” 
Well, that was easy. He always thought about Torren. 
“I want to ask you a couple of questions. First, how do you feel 

when Torren isn’t with you? Do you feel tired or weak? Do you feel 
depressed? Maybe your stomach feels kind of jittery.” 

Aslan nodded, his eyes still closed. “Yes. I feel all of that.” He 

didn’t know where this was going, but he hoped that Raith got on 
with it. He really wanted to find his mate. Torren was sad. He 
wouldn’t tell anyone, but Aslan could feel it. 

“Torren hasn’t claimed you, right?” 
“No, he said we needed to talk first, and that he can’t love me.” 

Which was a lie. Torren already loved him. He was just a stubborn 
asshole and wouldn’t admit it. Aslan could feel that, too. 

Invincible 49 

 

“Tell me what Torren is feeling right now.” 
Aslan heard the vampires gasp, but he ignored them, focusing his 

full attention on Torren. “He’s sad because he doesn’t know what he 
did wrong and why you won’t let him see me. He’s confused because 
he doesn’t understand why he feels so drawn to me.” He tilted his 
head to the side and concentrated harder. “And he’s nervous because 
Kieran and his brothers have him pinned in one of the rooms 
downstairs.” 

“Ah, crap,” Raven spat. Footsteps thundered across the floor, and 

when Aslan opened his eyes, he found only Raith and Demos. 

“Where did he go?” 
Raith just shrugged. “I imagine to find Torren.” He stood from the 

bed and linked his fingers behind his back. “When Torren comes here, 
and he…he looks different…” Raith trailed off, and he seemed to be 
having trouble finding the right words. 

“You mean when he’s all glowy?” 
“Yes, when he’s all glowy. Can you touch him?” 
Aslan wrinkled his nose as he thought about it. “Not really. I 

mean, I can feel something, but it’s not really solid.” 

“More like a cold pressure?” his interrogator prodded. 
“Yeah, I guess it’s like that. Why are you asking me all of these 

questions?” 

“One more.” Raith held up a finger and started pacing. “This is 

going to sound really weird, but have you ever died before?” 

Demos snorted. “Well, obviously not.” He waved a hand up and 

down from Aslan’s head to his toes. “He looks pretty healthy to me.” 

Aslan winced. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “when I was with this other 

vampire coven a few years ago. They drained me.” He tilted his head 
to the side so they could see the scars on his neck from three different 
sets of ruthless fangs. “I’m pretty sure I died because I was in this 
place that was really dark and cold for three days.” He shrugged, but a 
chill worked its way up his spine from the memory. 

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“What happened after that?” Demos asked, a trace of horror 

entwined with his words. 

“I woke up still chained to the wall. I guess they were just going 

to leave my carcass to rot.” 

Raith stepped forward, his eyes shining with pity. “Can I see your 

hand, little one?” 

“Sure.” He held his hand out, and it was immediately surrounded 

by Raith’s much bigger one. The man closed his eyes and mumbled 
something under his breath for a minute before releasing him and 
stepping away. “What was that about?” 

Dropping his head and groaning, Raith didn’t answer him 

immediately. When he did look up, his eyes went straight to Demos. 
“He’s not just a witch. He’s Torren’s Infinity.” 

 

* * * * 

 
“Don’t you have jobs to do?” Torren sat on the loveseat inside the 

suite that Kieran had brought him to and crossed his arms over his 
chest. Wasn’t there any damn security around this place? He didn’t 
like his mate staying here if these werewolves were going to be so lax 
in their duties. 

“It’s night,” Kieran answered calmly. “The vamps take turns on 

the night patrol.” 

“Why did you bring me here?” 
“We’re tired of our sister being such a basket case because she 

thinks you’re going to take her pups away from her.” One of Kieran’s 
brothers, Torren wasn’t sure which, leaned against the wall with a 
hard look on his face. 

“Easy, Parker.” Kieran raised his hand and waved his brother off 

before turning back to Torren. “We all love those pups. They’re our 
family now. Since you’ve known about them for weeks and haven’t 
expressed any interest in seeing them, I’m assuming you don’t give a 
shit.” 

Invincible 51 

 

Why did everyone always jump to conclusions about his actions 

and immediately think of him as a coldhearted bastard? “Did it ever 
occur to you that I’ve kept my distance because I care? The twins 
were already kidnapped once because of me.” 

“That’s nice,” another of the Delany brothers sneered. “You’ve 

said you don’t want them back, which I’m grateful for, but what kind 
of man are you that you won’t take responsibility for your own 
children?” 

“Eli!” Kieran barked. “Knock it off, asshole.” 
“Enough!” a feminine voice declared as a petite, raven-haired 

beauty stepped through one of the doors that likely connected to a 
bedroom. “You attacking him isn’t getting us anywhere.” She 
straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her face as she 
approached Torren, but he could see through her brave façade. “Hello, 
Mr. Braddock. I’m Raina Delaney.” 

Torren rose from his seat and took her hand in both of his own, 

bending down to brush his lips across the delicate knuckles. “Please, 
call me Torren. It’s very nice to finally meet you.” 

Her smile wobbled a bit, but she nodded and motioned for him to 

sit again. “I’m sorry that I can’t say the same for you, and I’m sure 
you understand why.” She eased down to the edge of the cushion and 
clasped her hands together in her lap. “I love my children very much, 
Torren. I hope we can come to some sort of agreement because I 
won’t lose them.” 

The trembling in her voice crushed him. “I am not such a bastard 

as your brothers would have you believe. I will provide anything you 
need for the twins. I would like to be a part of their lives, perhaps as 
an extended uncle. I have no illusions that I am in any way fit to raise 
a child, let alone two of them, though.” 

The she-wolf didn’t look totally convinced, but the tense set of her 

shoulders relaxed marginally. It seemed to take her a minute to gather 
the courage to ask her next question. Torren waited patiently. 

“Do you have questions?” 

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Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. “Your mate is another she-

wolf named Teegan, correct?” She nodded slowly, a hint of 
defensiveness in her eyes. Torren bit the inside of his cheek to keep 
from smiling. She was a fierce one, and he liked that. “And your 
brothers play a large role in their lives?” 

“We would die to protect them,” Parker said levelly. “Want to try 

it?” 

A caustic reply was on the tip of his tongue, but Torren choked it 

back. They were only protecting their family. He could respect that. 
Nodding at the wolf, he started to turn back to Raina, but Raven chose 
that moment to come bursting through the door. 

“Don’t kill him!” 
Everyone’s eyes went wide, and Raina actually giggled. “You big 

gorilla, no one is going to kill him.” 

Raven stumbled to a stop and pushed his blond locks back from 

his face. “Uh, right. Sorry about that. Aslan said that you 
were…umm…well, it doesn’t matter I guess. I’ll just…” He looked 
around the room, and back toward the door. “Yeah, I’ll just go.” And 
that’s exactly what he did, leaving everyone chuckling in his wake. 

Torren idly wondered what Aslan had to do with the Enforcer’s 

appearance in the room, but he could only deal with one quandary at a 
time. Right now, he needed to focus on Raina and the issue of the 
twins. There could possibly be one very simple way to put all of her 
fears to rest. “Could I see the pups?” 

There was a collective growl that went around the room, and 

Raina tensed again. Then, very slowly, she relaxed and offered him a 
tentative smile. “Just sit tight.” She popped up from the loveseat and 
hurried back through the same door she’d come through minutes 
before. 

No one spoke while they waited, the Delaney brothers choosing to 

stare daggers at him in exchange for civilized conversation. When the 
silence became oppressive, Torren cleared his throat and sat up a little 
straighter. “How old did you say the twins are?” 

Invincible 53 

 

“The doctor isn’t exactly sure, but he estimates between six and 

eight months.” Kieran lifted his shoulders jerkily in what was 
probably supposed to be a shrug. “It’s a little harder to tell with 
hybrid babies, I guess.” 

Torren mentally calculated the time frame. If the doctor was 

correct, and a wolf-shifter gestational period was approximately three 
months, then that was only nine to eleven months. Why had he 
thought the pups were older? He hadn’t been in Utah in more than a 
year.  

While he was still trying to puzzle it out, the bedroom door 

opened once more, and Raina stepped out with a bouncing baby boy 
squirming against her chest. Another woman—Torren assumed it was 
Teegan—followed behind her, carrying an identical bundle in a 
similar manner. 

“This is Randall,” Raina said with a soft smile on her lips as she 

sat beside Torren once more and turned the baby to face him. She 
looked up at her mate and nodded, indicating that it was okay for 
Teegan to sit on the other side of him. 

“And this is Thomas,” Teegan added quietly. 
Raina and Randall, Teegan and Thomas—cute.  
A mass of curly, blond hair adorned the tops of their heads, and 

they each had eyes as blue as a summer sky. They giggled and 
gurgled, the sweetest little dimples appearing in their cheeks when 
they smiled. 

“They’re beautiful,” Torren said quietly. So nervous he could spit, 

he reached out hesitantly and took Thomas’s tiny hand, stroking the 
top of it with his thumb. Those pudgy little fingers curled around his 
hand as the pup squealed in delight. 

After a moment, Torren released his hand and turned to take 

Randall’s, going through the same motions, though there really wasn’t 
any need. If he was being honest, he’d known from the moment their 
mothers carried them into the room. Though adorable and precious, 
the twins looked nothing like him or their biological mother. 

54 Gabrielle 

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Part of him was relieved, but a big part, a part he wasn’t 

expecting, felt like he was drowning as his chest constricted so tightly 
he could barely pull air into his lungs. The thought of having children 
had scared him to death, but somewhere deep inside, it had also 
warmed him. He’d been a father. 

“They’re beautiful,” he repeated, forcing the words through the 

tightening in his throat. “And they’re very lucky to have such 
wonderful mothers. You don’t have to worry anymore.” With one last 
caress to the infant’s soft skin, Torren released him and stood from his 
seat. “Those are not my children, though.” 

“How do you know that?” Kieran questioned him. 
“They have no magic.” It was as simple as that. “They’re 

definitely hybrids, but their father was not a witch.” 

“Maybe they’ll have magic later,” Eli tossed out. “How can you 

know for sure?” 

Torren sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood in 

the circle of defensive weres. “Each Magik family has their own 
unique magic. It gives off a kind of pulse, I suppose.” His heart was 
breaking as he tried to explain, but he just didn’t know why. This is 
what he’d wanted. Wasn’t it? “While the twins are happy, healthy, 
and adorable, they have no magical pulse, and certainly not the magic 
of a Braddock.” 

“Whatever,” Parker growled. 
He couldn’t stay there any longer. He didn’t know what was 

happening to him or why he was feeling so heartbroken, but he had to 
get out. Just steps from the door, he paused when it swung open and 
Aslan stood in the doorway. His eyes were red and his bottom lip 
trembled slightly. Just then, he was the most amazing sight that 
Torren had ever seen. “Hey,” he said lamely. 

“We’re not finished,” Parker barked at him. “You think you’re so 

damn superior. They’re hybrids, so you just cast them aside because 
they aren’t up to Braddock standards.” 

“As much as I wish it were so, they are not mine.” 

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“Maybe and maybe not,” Eli responded. “I happen to agree with 

Parker. I think they are, and you’re just too much of an asshole to 
admit it. You don’t deserve them.” 

“Enough,” Aslan said quietly, but with a trace of steel in his tone. 

Then he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms 
around Torren’s waist. “I’m sorry.” 

Though it made him a weak shmuck and he knew it, he needed the 

comfort that only his mate could give him. Lifting Aslan into his 
arms, he buried his face in the warm skin of his throat and breathed 
deeply, letting the sweet smell calm and soothe him. 

What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a fucking 

child, and it didn’t sit well with him at all. 

“This isn’t over.” That had to be Jericho. The man hadn’t spoken 

a word since Torren’s arrival until this point. “He’s planning 
something.” 

Raina rose slowly from her seat, passed Randall over to Kieran, 

and in the next blink had Jericho slammed up against the wall as her 
claws extended and her fangs punched through her gums. “It is over,” 
she snarled. “That man is in pain, and if you can’t see that, then 
you’re dumber than I thought. Let it go, Jer. Leave him in peace.” She 
turned and growled at the rest of her brothers. “That goes for all of 
you.” 

Fuck, was he that easy to read? They probably all thought he was 

a weak, neurotic mess. And the truth of it was that’s exactly how he 
felt. The more he tried to work out the reasoning behind it, however, 
the more his head throbbed.  

“Take me back to my room,” Aslan whispered, placing a soft kiss 

on his cheek. “We need to talk.” 

For the first time, Torren realized just how ominous those words 

sounded when on the receiving end of them. 

56 Gabrielle 

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Chapter Six 

 
There was a hollow ache in Aslan’s chest that wasn’t his own. He 

didn’t understand how he could feel Torren’s emotions, nor did he 
know how he could connect thoughts to those feelings, but he didn’t 
begrudge the fact. If he could sense what was inside his mate, he’d be 
better able to give the witch what he needed.  

Neither of them spoke as Torren carried him up the stairs and 

down the long hallway to his bedroom. He’d almost insisted on 
walking, but then he realized that holding him in his arms was exactly 
what Torren needed. Being surrounded by the strength and warmth of 
the man wasn’t a hardship, so Aslan had bit his tongue and simply 
enjoyed the ride. 

Torren paused outside of the closed door, and his arms tightened 

around Aslan. “Raith is still here.” He didn’t sound very happy about 
it, either. 

“Yes.” There really wasn’t anything else he could say. Torren’s 

brother was on the other side of that door, and no matter what Aslan 
had said, Raith wasn’t intending to go anywhere until he spoke to 
Torren. 

With an unhappy grunt, Torren pushed the door open and stepped 

into the room, still refusing to relinquish his hold on Aslan. His 
shoulders tensed, and his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” 

The angry quality of his tone was rough, dangerous, and possibly 

the sexiest sound Aslan had ever heard. Shivering involuntarily, his 
cock twitched inside his jeans, swelling harder the longer Torren 
continued to make the rumbling sound in his chest. 

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“We need to talk,” Raith answered simply  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

“When were you going to tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” 
There was the delicious growl again, and Aslan’s breathing sped, 

his pulse accelerated, and he wiggled in Torren’s arms, grinding his 
aching dick over the man’s midsection. Do it again.  

As if Torren had heard his silent plea, he nuzzled the side of 

Aslan’s neck and growled softly, his chest vibrating with the sound. 
“Is that what you want, baby?” Hoarse and raspy, he whispered into 
Aslan’s ear while his warm breath caressed his skin. 

Raith cleared his throat, pulling their attention back to him. “You 

two have been apart for a really long time.” He exhaled in a great 
whoosh and scrubbed both hands over his face. “This is a fucking 
nightmare.” 

“Oh, good, you’re back.” Raven sauntered into the room with a 

cocky smile on his face, Demos, Cassius, Varik, and Stavion 
following close behind him. 

It was starting to feel a little crowded with so many enormous 

men in his room. “What’s going on? Why is everyone in my room?” 
Aslan flopped his hand around. “Go away.” 

“Sorry,” Raven answered, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “No 

can do.” 

“Not happening,” Demos agreed. “What the hell is an Infinity?” 
Torren tensed in his arms, and his head whipped around to pin 

Raith with his dark gaze. Very slowly, his attention returned to Aslan, 
staring at him as though he’d never seen him before. Aslan frowned. 
“Do I have something on my face?” Crap, maybe he was getting a zit. 
That would really suck. 

“It can’t be,” Torren whispered. “I…I…” 
“Stop fighting it, brother.” Raith shuffled closer to them, but kept 

a respectful distance. “Let go and feel it.” 

Aslan didn’t know what the hell was going on, but the two 

witches were starting to make him nervous. “What’s he talking 

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about?” he demanded of his mate. “What are you fighting? What are 
you supposed to feel?” He began struggling, trying to free himself 
from Torren’s arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Torren’s arms tightened, preventing his escape. “Aslan, calm 

down.” 

Instantly, Aslan went completely still, and the anxiety that had 

threatened to overwhelm him vanished, replaced by a deep sense of 
peace and contentment. “How did you do that?” he breathed in awe. 

Instead of answering, Torren stared into his eyes unblinkingly, 

and Aslan couldn’t help but stare back. As he watched, he could have 
sworn that a soft, shimmering light flickered in the gold specks 
around Torren’s pupils. Looking deeper, losing himself in those 
endless pools of onyx, Aslan felt as though he’d known Torren for not 
just his entire life, but for lifetimes before that. 

The moment stretched on, and suddenly, he found himself getting 

angry. He didn’t know where the agitation came from, but it was there 
all the same. Without conscious decision to do so, he heard himself 
saying, “You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Torren Braddock.” 

Torren growled, grabbed the back of Aslan’s neck, and crushed 

their mouths together in a kiss that lit Aslan up like fireworks on the 
Fourth of July. It was hard, hungry, demanding, and possessive, 
consuming him until his world tilted on its axis and ceased to spin, 
holding them motionless in this one perfect moment of time. 

“No!” a voice roared inside his head, making him jump. “Leave! 

Make him leave!” 

“Fight it, caro,” Torren panted against his lips. “You’re stronger 

than he is. Silence him.” 

It wasn’t easy, and the voice didn’t completely disappear, but 

Aslan was able to mute it until it was barely more than a dull whisper. 
It was draining, however, as though he’d turned the volume down on 
the radio but had to fight against the dial to keep it in place. 

“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Stavion 

bit out, obviously unhappy about his lack of knowledge. 

Invincible 59 

 

Well, he could just join the goddamn club, because Aslan didn’t 

have a clue, either. Something was different. Something had changed 
inside Torren, and Aslan’s entire body yearned for the man. “Yeah, 
okay,” he finally said with a heartfelt sigh. “I’d like to know what’s 
going on as well.” 

Torren smirked at him and kissed the tip of his nose. “Let me tell 

you a story.” 

“Does it start with ‘once upon a time’?” 
With a sly wink, Torren set him on his feet and nodded. “Actually, 

it does.” 

 

* * * * 

 
Since Aslan’s friends had wanted to be included in the 

conversation, they ended up moving their meeting to the spacious 
library. Torren didn’t really care where they went as long as Aslan 
remained close enough to touch.  

Watching his mate chattering away with his friends, Torren 

smiled and relaxed back into one of the armchairs. The man was so 
full of life, babbling excitedly as he waved his hands around in 
animated movements. His smile could light the darkest well, paling 
the sun in comparison. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look 
at him.  

“You’ve got it bad,” Raven teased him as he flopped down into 

the chair beside him. “I really wish you could see the dopey look on 
your face right now.” 

“I’ve waited a long time for him.” 
“Okay, everyone zip it,” Stavion ordered, settling onto the sofa 

and calling for Jory to join him. 

The Enforcers found seats as well, those with their own mates 

motioning their men to them. Torren couldn’t have been more pleased 
when Aslan bounced across the room, climbed right up into his lap, 
and curled against his chest. “Okay, love, let’s hear it.” 

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“Whatever we tell you does not leave this room,” Raith began 

from where he was leaning against the desk at the front of their group. 
“Not only is it extremely personal, but it could be very dangerous for 
Aslan and Torren.” 

Everyone nodded their understanding and gave verbal vows that 

they’d not do anything to endanger the lives of their friends. Torren 
was a little shocked to be counted as a friend amongst the Enforcers, 
but he found it sparked a flame of warmth inside his chest as well. 

Nodding at his brother, Torren gave his silent approval for Raith 

to begin the story as it had been told to them when they were young. 

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away.” Raith stopped 

and winked at Aslan, sending him into a fit of adorable laughter. 

Torren picked up the square box of tissues on the table beside him 

and sent it sailing toward his brother’s head. “Stop flirting with my 
mate and get on with it, asshole.” 

Raith just laughed as he caught the box and placed it on the desk 

behind him. “Fine, I’ll skip the history lesson and get to the point. In 
the early fifteen hundreds the Book of the Banished was used to call 
forth an army of the dead. War ensued. People died. You get the 
idea.”  

They all nodded, though Torren had to fight the urge to groan. 

Obviously, his brother was not the most skilled storyteller, but at least 
he was hitting the main points. 

“Well, short story shorter, a circle of thirteen witches was able to 

cast the souls back into Purgatory where they belonged. Too 
dangerous in the wrong hands, the book had to be destroyed.” 

“Only, when the circle attempted to destroy it, the curse 

rebounded,” Torren said, taking over the story. “The legend goes that 
the thirteen fell to their knees and cried out to the heavens as their 
souls were ripped in two and one half was lost to the universe.” 

“That’s horrible,” Aslan whispered, looking up at him with wide 

eyes. “Were those your ancestors?” 

Invincible 61 

 

“I’m getting to that part.” He offered his mate a soft smile and 

pecked his forehead before returning to the story. “Bound in wolf skin 
and animated by the cursed blood of a vampire, the book sought to 
bind itself with the closest living soul in a bid for survival.” 

“That’s what happened to Camdin.” Galen nodded thoughtfully 

while he slapped at Bannon’s wandering hand where it snaked up the 
inside of his thigh. “Would you knock it off?” It was kind of comical 
the way Bannon huffed and pouted as he sunk back into the cushions 
and crossed his arms over his chest. Galen just rolled his eyes. 
“Anyway, so that’s how Camdin essentially became the book, right?” 

“That’s right.” There was a little more to the story about the faerie 

and his curse, but that part wasn’t for Torren to tell. “Anyway, the 
circle sealed the book within Camdin so that only one of the thirteen 
could open it.” 

“So, is it your bloodline?” Cassius asked. “Is that how you’re able 

to open the book?” 

Here came the tricky part. Luckily for Torren, Raith took up 

where he’d left off without having to be asked. 

“While Camdin is physically bound to the Book of the Banished, 

the circle was bound spiritually. They would never die, because the 
minute one body stopped breathing, another was born.” 

“Like reincarnation?” 
Raith nodded at the Enforcer. “Something like that. Call it 

whatever you like.” 

“Okay, so what does any of this have to do with Torren and 

Aslan?” Jory asked from his perch on the arm of Stavion’s chair.  

“The fates smiled upon the circle for their sacrifice and gave 

homes to the torn pieces of their souls.” Torren looked down at the 
man in his lap and had to swallow around the lump in his throat. 
“While shifters, weres, vampires, and whatever have fated mates who 
complete them, a witch’s Infinity is literally their missing half.” 

“Torren and Aslan are Twin Flames,” Raith explained. “They are 

two bodies that share one soul.” 

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“Wait, wait, wait!” Galen jumped up and started waving his hands 

around to get everyone’s attention. “You”—He pointed right at 
Torren—“are one of the thirteen that originally sealed the book?” 

“We all are,” Raith answered before Torren had the chance. “It is 

exceedingly rare for all thirteen to be born to the same family. In fact, 
I don’t think it’s ever happened before.” 

“But your dad died fifteen years ago.” Kendall sat up a little 

straighter and frowned, obviously having trouble deciding how to 
word his question. 

Torren understood, though, and took pity on the pixie. “My 

stepmother gave birth to our youngest brother, Indo, the night our 
father was executed.” 

Galen’s mouth dropped open. “He’s only fifteen! Where is he? 

How could you just send him off on his own?” 

How strange that Galen would be concerned for someone he’d 

never met. Still, there was no need for the alarm. “He’s safe.” The kid 
had no idea who he was or who any of his siblings were, but he was 
safe. 

Jory tilted his head, his blond hair falling over one shoulder as he 

wrinkled his nose. “You have a daddy brother. That’s gross.” 

“Well, when you say it like that,” Raith said with a mock shudder. 

“Since I’m forty years older than Indo, I’m pretty sure he’s just my 
kid brother. Witches don’t really think in those terms, though. The 
reincarnation thing is weird, but Indo is very much my sibling and not 
my father.” 

“How old are you?” 
Torren realized it was the first thing Aslan had said in a while. 

“Sixty-two,” he said cautiously. “The original circle doesn’t die from 
disease or old age, but we can be killed by other means.”  

Nice going, jackass, he chided himself when Aslan’s eyes went 

wide as dinner plates. Why couldn’t he have just answered with his 
age and left it at that?  

“Are we done now?” 

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Without even checking with the others, Torren stood from his 

seat, lifting Aslan easily and cradling him in his arms. “Where would 
you like to go?” 

“You know I can walk, right?” 
Torren shrugged. “Yeah, so?” He knew Aslan wasn’t a child or an 

invalid, but he just liked having the man in his arms. He couldn’t 
remember their previous lives together, doubted his mate even 
understood what it all meant, but he definitely felt the connection. It 
was also an enormous relief to finally understand why he was acting 
like such a crazy person.  

With a snort, Aslan shook his head and wrapped his arms around 

Torren’s neck. “You have a lot of explaining to do, so we should 
probably get something to eat first.” He pointed toward the door and 
clucked his tongue. “To the kitchen!” 

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Chapter Seven 

 
The story had been interesting, but Aslan hadn’t understood a 

great portion of it. Since everyone else seemed to have been following 
along, he hadn’t wanted to look like an idiot. So he’d kept his mouth 
shut and hoped that Torren would explain it to him when they were 
alone. 

After storming into the kitchen and ordering everyone out like he 

owned the place, Torren had provided that alone time in grand 
fashion. “That was really rude,” Aslan chastised his mate. “They were 
just doing their jobs.” 

“You looked like you needed to talk, and I didn’t think you’d 

want an audience.” He was completely unrepentant about his behavior 
as he began pulling things out of the refrigerator to make them 
sandwiches. “Go ahead and ask me anything. I have no secrets from 
you.” 

“How come you don’t look that old?” As far as he knew, witches 

were not immortal. Yet Torren said he couldn’t die of old age. 

“Why do you bother asking questions? You’ll never understand 

it.” 

Taking a deep breath, Aslan did his best to push the voice away 

and ignore it. Now was not the time for him to be distracted. 

“It’s part of the curse,” Torren answered without turning away 

from the counter. “Our bodies stop aging when we reach however old 
we were at the time our souls were split. I was twenty-six. What else 
would you like to know?” 

Hoping Torren wouldn’t think he was a complete moron, Aslan 

blurted the most pressing issue on his mind. “I didn’t understand a 

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word about this Twin Flames thing.” He didn’t even know where to 
start asking questions, either. None of it made sense to him. Maybe 
everyone was right. Maybe he was clueless. 

“Well, of course you are.” 
Aslan didn’t even bother putting up a fight with the cold, heartless 

voice. What would be the point? “I’m sorry,” he said to Torren. “I 
don’t mean to be so stu—” 

He cut off abruptly when Torren growled and slammed the 

mustard down on the counter with enough force to crack the bottom 
of the plastic bottle. Then he was across the kitchen and in Aslan’s 
face before he even knew what was happening. 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. 

Am I understood?” His eyes flashed fire, and heat rolled off of him in 
waves.  

Aslan swallowed hard. His pulse tripped into overdrive, his palms 

began to sweat, and every muscle in his body quivered with nervous 
anticipation. He wasn’t afraid of the giant towering over him, but 
something inside him responded to the steel-laced command in 
Torren’s tone—something connected straight to his cock. 

“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, trying like hell to keep from 

panting. “I understand.” 

Torren’s eyes softened, and he caressed the side of Aslan’s face 

with his fingertips. “Better.” 

Shivering in delight from his mate’s touch and the fact that he’d 

pleased the man, Aslan wrapped his fingers around Torren’s wrist and 
pressed his face into the huge, soft palm, nuzzling his cheek against it. 
He loved that Torren was so much bigger than him. It made him feel 
safe and protected, as though nothing in the world could hurt him 
while he was surrounded by Torren’s strength. 

“I’ve really missed you.” It was a strange feeling, but he felt it all 

the same—like part of him had disappeared and only now returned. “I 
don’t understand any of this.” His eyes popped open wide when 
Torren growled at him. What had he done wrong now? “Torren?” 

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“Maybe I should have qualified my statement earlier. I never want 

to hear you talk about yourself in a negative way, and I don’t want to 
feel it, either. This is a lot, Aslan. Anyone would be spinning from all 
of it right now. Just because you don’t understand, it does not make 
you less intelligent than anyone else.” 

It should have occurred to him that if he could feel Torren’s 

emotions, then the same would be true in reverse. He couldn’t help 
how he felt, though. What did the man want from him? He’d 
promised that he wouldn’t speak his concerns aloud. That’s the best 
he could do, though. 

As though reading his mind, Torren sighed, scooped Aslan into 

his arms, and settled him in his lap as he sat in Aslan’s now-vacated 
seat. “Now, you listen to me, Aslan…” He trailed off and frowned. “I 
don’t even know your last name.” 

Aslan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I stopped using it when my 

parents sold me to that vampire coven.” 

“When was this?” 
“A couple of years ago, I guess. I was sixteen.” 
Torren’s face took on a pinched look and his eyes creased in the 

corners. “Please tell me that you’re eighteen.” He sounded choked 
and maybe even a little sick. 

Rolling his eyes, Aslan leaned forward and pressed their lips 

together as he straddled Torren’s massive thighs. “I’ll be twenty next 
month.” 

To his surprise, Torren closed his eyes and groaned. “So young,” 

he whispered as though it was painful for him to speak the words. 

Deciding that line of thinking had gone far enough, he reached 

between their bodies and pressed his palm to Torren’s zipper, giving 
his soft cock a nice, gentle squeeze. “Not that young,” he said in what 
he hoped was a seductive purr. 

He guessed he’d gotten it right when Torren’s eyes popped open, 

blazing with unhidden lust. 

“You know what they say about playing with fire, baby.” 

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Grinning mischievously, Aslan leaned forward again, tickling the 

seam of Torren’s lips with his tongue, coaxing the man to open for 
him. “No, but I hope it means I’m going to get a blow job in the 
kitchen.” 

Torren’s breathy chuckle parted his plump lips, and Aslan took 

full advantage, sweeping his tongue inside his mate’s mouth. It was 
hard to tell who groaned louder when their tongues met and twined, 
but it didn’t really matter. Winding one arm around his waist, Torren 
fisted his other hand in Aslan’s short hair, holding him still so he 
could take the kiss deeper. 

Content to submit to his mate’s dominance, Aslan relaxed his 

body, melting against Torren’s chest and moaning softly at the intense 
pleasure that seemed to burn him from the inside out. Drowning in the 
taste of his mate, reality warped, turning him upside down so that 
when he finally came up for air it was to find himself sans his shirt. 

The button on his jeans popped open with a skilled twist of 

Torren’s long fingers. His zipper followed quickly as his cock swelled 
and strained, pressing against the soft denim in its bid for freedom.  

Torren’s quiet, growling moan filled his mouth as his soon-to-be 

lover extracted his aching dick and stroked it lightly from base to 
helmet. The act felt familiar, as though they’d done it a thousand 
times before, and Aslan jerked in Torren’s embrace, flexing his hips 
so that his length slid through his mate’s fist. 

“More,” he begged, clutching at the fabric of Torren’s sweater and 

dragging it over his head, needing to feel the hot, hard muscles 
beneath his palms. 

Instead of heeding his plea, Torren released his cock, jerked 

Aslan’s head back on his shoulders, and attacked the sensitive skin 
along his throat while he lifted him onto the table. Following him up, 
Torren kept one arm around his waist, holding him in an inclined 
position and placing himself between Aslan’s knees. 

Very gently, Torren eased him back on the table and kissed a slow 

path down Aslan’s chest, leaving a trail of liquid heat in his wake. His 

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tongue swirled around Aslan’s navel and dipped inside while he 
worked Aslan’s jeans off his legs and tossed them to the floor. 

Sitting back in his chair, he gripped Aslan’s calves and pulled him 

forward, sliding him to the edge of the table. “Spread your legs, 
baby.” 

Shivering and panting, he did as instructed, looping his elbows 

under his knees and opening himself to his lover’s gaze. The new 
position made him feel exposed and vulnerable, but when Torren 
hummed in approval, the anxiety ebbed just as quickly as it had come. 

Two thick fingers traced his bottom lip then tapped at it. Opening 

instantly, Aslan captured Torren’s digits in his mouth, swirling his 
tongue around them and sucking hard. His back bowed and a 
strangled moan rose up from his chest when his mate palmed his 
heavy erection once more, squeezing it in rhythmic movements that 
made his asshole clench greedily. 

“That’s it,” Torren praised him. “Get them good and wet.” His 

soft hair tickled the inside of Aslan’s thighs just before incredible 
moist heat surrounded the head of his cock. Torren swirled his tongue 
around the crown then flicked at the bundle of nerves just under the 
ridge, sending Aslan into a tailspin of need. 

Sucking harder on his lover’s fingers, Aslan rocked as much as his 

position would allow, driving his throbbing dick deeper into Torren’s 
welcoming mouth. Wading through his blinding lust, an errant 
thought slipped into his muddled brain, reminding him not to thrust 
too deeply. Torren had a horrible gag reflex. 

Confusion cooled some of his ardor. How the hell did he know 

that? 

Then it all ceased to matter when Torren’s fingers slid from his 

mouth and pressed against his fluttering hole, ringing the muscles 
with gentle but steady pressure. Taking a deep breath and willing 
himself to relax, Aslan still couldn’t stop his gasp when those spit-
soaked digits pushed into his clenching channel and began pumping 
lazily. 

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The burn was minimal, the pressure intense, and the pleasure 

mind numbing. His lover’s free hand gripped the base of his cock, 
sliding and twisting in an upward spiral until his fist met his lips. 
Over and over, Torren worked the rigid flesh in his mouth, moaning 
and growling while he continued stretching Aslan’s entrance. 

Jerking and spasming, Aslan made sounds he’d never heard issue 

from his own lips before. When the next inward glide sent Torren’s 
fingers brushing over his prostate, Aslan squeezed his eyes closed, 
arched his back, and shouted to the ceiling. 

While Torren’s hand kept stroking him, his mouth disappeared, 

leaving the torrent of warm cum spurting from Aslan’s cock to splash 
over his belly. Coming down from his orgasmic high, his body still 
quaking in aftershocks, Aslan peered down between his legs to see a 
very self-satisfied smirk on his lover’s ruggedly handsome face. 

Releasing Aslan’s still-hard cock and easing his fingers from his 

hole, Torren pushed his khakis off his hips, scooped the cooling cum 
from Aslan’s belly, and used it to slick his engorged shaft. Renewed 
desire slammed into Aslan, and he licked his dry lips while his cock 
throbbed painfully as though he hadn’t just had the orgasm of his life. 

The confident grin on Torren’s face was wickedly arousing as he 

lifted his hand and crooked one finger. “Come here, caro.” 

Apparently, he didn’t move fast enough, because in the next 

instant, he was hauled into Torren’s lap, the thick head of his lover’s 
cock poised at his opening. Their mouths crashed together, carnal and 
savage while Aslan lowered himself over Torren’s length, feeling his 
inner walls strain to accept his mate’s thick girth. 

He was so full, completely filled, and it was heaven. The ache in 

his ass, his balls, and his pulsing dick combined and exploded into an 
inferno of all-consuming pleasure. Flames of erotic desire licked at 
his skin, crawling over his body and engulfing him in their passionate 
embrace. 

Instinct took over, and he began to rise and fall, flexing his thighs 

and bracing his hands on the table behind him as he impaled himself 

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on Torren’s cock. His head fell back on his shoulders, a high keening 
noise ripping from his throat when his mate’s hands began roaming 
his chest and tugging at his pebbled nipples. 

Then those strong hands moved to his hips, grasping him firmly 

and encouraging him to move faster. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my cock.” 
His grip tightened, his fingers digging into Aslan’s flesh as he began 
thrusting upward, driving into Aslan’s ass in lightning-quick strokes. 

“Ahhh!” Aslan cried out, his pleasure spiking as he teetered on the 

edge of climax. “Torren!” 

“Yeah, scream, Aslan. Scream my name.” Torren yanked him 

forward, molding their chests together as his arms locked behind 
Aslan’s back. “Come for me,” Torren rasped in his ear. “Come on my 
cock. Milk me dry.” 

He whispered words that Aslan didn’t understand, but they 

sounded important, and suddenly it felt as though the sun itself had 
burst inside of him. Aslan screamed until his throat was raw and his 
head spun. Explosions wracked his body, tearing his release from 
him, and he coated Torren’s cobblestone abs with his heated seed. 

Floating somewhere above his body, he heard Torren’s roar as 

though from a great distance, felt the splash of his lover’s climax 
filling his depths, and then everything disappeared as he drifted into 
darkness. 

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Chapter Eight 

 
Placing Aslan back on the table, Torren couldn’t stop his chuckle 

when his mate didn’t even twitch. Scrubbing himself first, he then wet 
a dishcloth with warm water and cleaned Aslan as best he could. It 
would at least be enough to get them back to the man’s room. 

Grabbing Aslan’s jeans off the floor, he looked between the denim 

and his lover. Tossing the pants to the side, he picked his own sweater 
up instead, tugged it over Aslan’s head, and pulled it down his body 
to hide all of his bits and pieces.  

He’d just finished buttoning his own pants and lifting Aslan into 

his arms when his brother stepped into the kitchen with a knowing 
smirk on his face. “I’m going to guess the screaming we heard was a 
good thing this time.” 

“You’d guess correctly.” It was better than good. It was amazing. 

“Do you think he’ll be pissed?” 

Raith shrugged. “That you claimed him? I doubt it.” He stepped 

aside to allow Torren to exit the room and followed behind him as 
they climbed the stairs. “Do you remember anything yet?” 

“Bits and pieces.” It was more like a slow trickle, and he’d 

occasionally get a little flash of his previous lives with Aslan. They’d 
first met just a year after the battle between the Magiks had ended. 
The war wasn’t quite as over as they thought, though. Six months into 
their relationship, they were dragged from their beds and slain in the 
middle of the night. 

He’d found Aslan again in Salem Village in 1692—the year of the 

Salem Witch Trials. Again, it had ended in death for both of them just 
months after meeting. Then once more in 1854 they’d found their way 

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together. And once more it had spelled tragedy less than a year later 
when a circle of witches had kidnapped Aslan and beheaded him. 
Torren had been so devastated over the loss that he’d taken his own 
life, unable to bear the passing days without his mate. 

It had been almost a hundred and sixty years since, and now that 

they were bonded, Torren felt each one of those years like a white-hot 
poker to his gut. None of that mattered, though. He had Aslan in his 
arms, and he’d be prepared this time. His past failures would not be 
repeated. No matter what he had to do, Aslan would be protected 
because he couldn’t lose him yet again. 

“This could get complicated,” Raith said quietly, leaning against 

the doorframe as Torren tucked Aslan into bed and pulled the blankets 
up around his shoulders. 

“How is that?” He wasn’t really listening, his full attention 

focused on the breathtaking man sleeping on the mattress. 

“You have responsibilities as an elder. He’s going to be a huge 

distraction for you. I can already tell that it’s been a long time since 
you were together, and the need to always be close to him is going to 
consume you. War is coming, brother, and we need to be prepared.” 

Torren spun around and growled at Raith. “You think I don’t 

know what’s at stake? Do you really believe that I don’t know what’s 
coming? I’ll do my job, brother. He won’t be hurt again.” No matter 
what he’d tried to tell himself—and most of that he’d kept from 
everyone else—the war between his kind was already stirring. “We 
have to find the others.” 

Their best hope at winning rested in having the original circle 

reunited. Individually, they were strong. Together they were a force to 
be reckoned with.  

“Halloween is next week. There’s not enough time to find 

everyone,” Raith argued. 

Torren wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that, which was exactly 

why he’d sent Bannon to find Raith and Lynk in the first place. As the 
eldest three, they were the strongest. If their enemies chose to attack 

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during the witching hour on Halloween, at least the coven was 
somewhat protected. 

“It will have to be enough. Nicholas McCarthy should be here 

before the meeting next week. He’s not very powerful and has spent 
most of his life hiding his gift. He’s still a witch and could be helpful, 
though.” 

“Raven told me what Aslan is,” Raith said just above a whisper. 

“If the other circles come…” He took a deep breath and pushed his 
black curls back from his face. “I think we need to reschedule the 
meeting. It’s too dangerous.” 

“We’ll leave when Aslan wakes up and discuss this when we get 

back to Casper.” His brother had legitimate concerns, but there were 
too many unknown factors for Torren to make a decision just then.  

He needed time to think, to consult with some of the other 

members of The Council, and then worry about what their next course 
of action should be. While he was responsible for the safety of the 
entirety of their world, his first and main concern was for the well-
being of his mate. 

Raith didn’t look happy about being dismissed, but he nodded 

curtly and backed out of the open door. “I’ll be ready to leave when 
you are.” 

“Why are you always such a dick to everyone?” a sleepy voice 

asked from behind him. 

Turning and kneeling beside the bed, he smiled tenderly at his 

lover. “I’m not a dick to you.” 

Aslan rolled his eyes, but his lips stretched into a silly grin. “Let 

me get in the shower and pack a bag. I’ll be ready to go in about 
twenty minutes.” 

“I think I should join you,” Torren replied seriously. “It would 

conserve water. Besides, you might need help reaching all the nooks 
and crannies to make sure they’re clean.” 

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“How considerate of you.” Aslan gave him a teasing wink and 

pushed up on his elbow to deliver a blistering kiss to Torren’s lips. 
“Start the water. I’m right behind you.” 

No one needed to tell Torren twice. Now that he’d bound them 

and entwined their souls, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces, 
his heart was so full of warmth and love that he thought he’d burst 
with it. More memories assaulted him, crashing over him and 
soothing his frayed nerves. 

He wondered if it had been that way each time they were 

separated. The only memories he could remember from his previous 
lives involved Aslan, though, so he couldn’t be sure. All of his life—
well,  this life—he’d harbored trust and control issues, been 
emotionally stunted, detached, aloof, and reserved. 

While he hadn’t been a monk over the years, sex always left him 

feeling hollow and unfulfilled. For years he’d felt gutted, like he was 
only part of a man. There had always been something missing, and 
the depression that knowledge caused had slowly eaten away at him. 
Before he knew it, he’d become a cold, calculating, and unfeeling 
prick, pushing away everyone who had, did, or would ever care about 
him. 

With Aslan at his side, he finally felt whole. Making love to his 

mate was earth-shattering, yet it fed him emotionally as well. It was 
as though Aslan was the light to his darkness, the yin to his yang, and 
he complemented him so perfectly that he wasn’t sure where he ended 
and his lover began. 

No matter the sacrifices, he’d do anything to keep the feeling 

inside of him. Above all else, Aslan would be protected. No way 
would Torren allow them to be separated again. Ever. 

 

* * * * 

 
Arching his back, his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him while 

his head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. A thin coating of 

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sweat covered his lover’s nude body, made his tan skin glisten in the 
soft flickering of the candlelight.  

Torren’s long, dark hair clung to his damp forehead and trailed 

down his defined shoulders. A rough five-o’clock shadow adorned his 
jaw while his eyes flashed with need, desire, and an untamed lust that 
made him look every bit the fierce warrior he was. 

The wind howled viciously outside their small home, battering 

against the window as though determined to break inside. Blue-white 
beams from the full moon filtered into their room, casting the corners 
into darkness but shining on them in its blessing. 

His mate’s body undulated between his splayed thighs, his hips 

rolling as his thick cock sank and retreated, surging into Aslan’s 
yielding body. Their gazes met and held, the pressure building, the 
passion soaring, and the storm raged on around them. 

Aslan didn’t fear a bit of rain, though. It was unmatched by the 

tempest his lover invoked within him. Shards of unmatched pleasure 
sliced through him, igniting his body and sending him hurling over 
the edge into free fall. 

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle his groan of 

ecstasy, Aslan came in a blinding climax that stole his breath and 
muted his senses. Torren’s grunt of release was just as quiet, but no 
less satisfying as he pumped through his orgasm, filling Aslan’s 
depths with his seed.  

Tangled together, panting and shuddering, they clung to one 

another while their heart rates slowed, settling into a familiar 
synchronized rhythm. Soft, moist lips brushed over his cheeks, his 
eyelids, his nose, and finally his mouth. Torren stroked his hair, his 
back, his hips, and every part of him he could reach. 

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” he whispered. 
“Yes,” Aslan breathed. “But I never tire of hearing it.” 
“Then I love you more with each breath I take. Thank you for 

being mine.” 

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But it was Aslan who was grateful. When Torren had found him, 

his life had been bleak at best. Until his mate had rescued him, he’d 
been an empty shell with no home and no one to call his own. Now, he 
had more love than he could possibly deserve, and each day he 
thanked whoever was listening out there in the universe that Torren 
had chosen him.  

They belonged together, though. He had vague recollections of 

their previous time together, and it only deepened his certainty that 
no matter the obstacles thrown before them, they would always find 
their way back to one another. Not even death could separate them 
forever. 

Just as he was debating climbing out from beneath the warmth of 

the blankets to clean up, loud banging sounded on their front door, 
followed by a multitude of angry voices. Aslan tensed, his eyes 
widened, and he looked to Torren for guidance. 

The banging grew loud, shaking the entire house, and suddenly an 

ear-splitting crash sounded from the front room and footsteps 
thundered across the hardwood floors. 

Torren hugged him close and kissed his forehead before pushing 

him away and springing up from the bed. “Go,” he directed.  

“You can’t fight them all,” Aslan argued, but he was already out 

of bed and pulling on his nightshirt. The footsteps were getting closer, 
almost to their door now. Opening the door that led to the adjoining 
room, Aslan cast a pleading look over his shoulder at his lover. 
“Come with us.” 

Their bedroom door exploded inward, and several large, 

menacing men advanced toward them. “Go!” Torren roared. “Take 
the baby and go!” 

Jerking upright in bed, Aslan felt the hot sting of tears as they 

slipped over his cheeks. A bubbling sob welled up in him, and before 
he could cut it off, it burst through his parted lips. His entire body 
shook and his heart felt like it was being shredded inside his chest. 

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Long, powerful arms wrapped gently around his waist, pulling 

him back against the solid wall of his lover’s chest. “Shh, baby. It was 
just a dream,” Torren murmured to him. “It was only a bad dream.” 

It wasn’t a dream, though. It was a memory. Aslan couldn’t 

remember which lifetime it was, what year, or even where they’d 
lived, but he felt it with a certainty that he had indeed lost his child 
and died in his mate’s arms that night. “We had a baby.” A precious 
little boy who had Torren’s raven hair and matching eyes. “His name 
was Addison.” How they’d come to have a child he couldn’t 
remember, but that wasn’t important just then. 

“My sister’s child,” Torren answered his unspoken question. “She 

had died in childbirth, so we took the infant in. I was scared to death 
and had no idea what I was doing, but you were amazing with him. 
My heart nearly exploded from my chest every time I watched you 
two together.” 

By the time he finished speaking, his voice was rough and hoarse, 

as though he forced words through a constriction in his throat. 
Wrapping his arms around his midsection, Aslan rocked back and 
forth, weeping for a child that he had lost so many years ago. The 
memory had been so real, so vivid. He’d remembered each detail of 
their room, the storm outside their window, and the all-encompassing 
love he’d felt for his family. 

When those men had beaten down their door, sheer terror gripped 

him in its iron clutches. Then they were dragged out onto their front 
lawn and forced to kneel on the sodden ground, and Aslan had known 
there was no hope. He’d watched his child carried away into the 
night, and his heart had ceased to beat. Though he was awake now, 
the gut-wrenching heartache wouldn’t leave him. 

In the four days since he’d arrived in Casper with his mate, his 

dreams had become more frequent and more realistic. Sometimes 
he’d even have flashes of their previous lives while awake, but it was 
rare and not nearly as richly detailed. Though they often left him 

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shaken, he treasured each recollection because it confirmed what he’d 
known from the beginning. 

He loved Torren Braddock with all of his heart, and the stubborn 

witch loved him back, even if neither of them had said it aloud. How 
could they not with the history they shared? The emotions that 
assailed him in his dream world were as real as any he felt when he 
was awake, and his love for his mate was always the most intense. 

“We’ve been through a lot,” Torren said after a long moment of 

silence. “I’m still remembering things every day.” His arms tightened 
around Aslan. “I’m so sorry that I let you down. I swear it won’t 
happen this time.” 

“Do you think it’s strange that our first names have never 

changed?” 

Torren chuckled softly. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I 

suppose it is. I love that you just blurt out whatever you’re thinking.” 

Well, then the guy better hold on to his ass for this one. “I love 

you, Torren. I guess I’ve loved you for about seven hundred years, so 
don’t tell me that it’s too soon. I don’t pretend that I understand how 
all of this works. My brain might be a little slow, but there’s nothing 
wrong with my heart.” 

Torren growled but didn’t comment on Aslan’s negative statement 

about himself. Instead, he eased them back to the mattress and 
cuddled him to his chest so that Aslan could hear their hearts beating 
in tandem. “Loving you has never been the problem.” He sounded 
thoughtful, as though his mind was divided and not fully there in the 
moment. “I’ve always loved you, caro.” He sighed heavily, resting 
his chin on the top of Aslan’s head. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, 
though.” 

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Chapter Nine 

 
He was getting absolutely nowhere. 
While he could feel something blocking him from fully 

investigating Enforcer Hollis Becker’s magic, Torren couldn’t tell if it 
was from the man himself or from an outside force. “You do 
understand that The Council intends to execute you if you don’t come 
clean with me, right?” 

Becker glared at him, his upper lip curling over his teeth. “Those 

are my pups, and I want them back.” 

He’d been spewing the same garbage for the better part of an 

hour. Torren might have believed him if he hadn’t met the twins for 
himself. While they were certainly wolf-shifters, they were hybrids. 
He hadn’t delved any deeper to determine what that other part was, 
but with their mother being a wolf-shifter, there was no way the 
Enforcer could have fathered them. 

“They are not pureblood shifters. How many times do I have to 

say this?” 

“Teegan loves me. She came with me willingly. You have no right 

to keep me here.” 

“Can ya not do a spell on him or somethin’?” a voice asked from 

the other end of the corridor. 

Torren turned to see Bannon Murphy striding toward him, his 

mate, Galen, marching right beside him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I want to try again,” Galen answered, elbowing Bannon in the 

ribs when he started to speak. “We’ve bonded now, and my powers 
are stronger. I’d like to give it another shot.” 

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It was obvious from the scowl on the shifter’s face that Bannon 

did not like this. It was also obvious that they had argued about 
Galen’s presence there and Bannon had lost. Torren, however, was 
grateful for any help he could get. “Be my guest.” 

“I’d like to touch him. I think I could get a better read.” 
“Absolutely not,” Bannon growled, winding his arm around 

Galen’s waist and pulling him back from the bars of the cell. “You’ll 
not be goin’ near him.” 

Galen rolled his eyes and huffed. “Torren, could you maybe 

sedate him so that Mr. Overprotective here will calm the hell down?” 

Chuckling under his breath, Torren uttered a simple sleep spell 

and watched unflinchingly as Becker fell to the concrete floor right 
where he stood. Luckily, that was near the door of the cell, so at least 
Galen wouldn’t need to go inside. 

“See, love? Perfectly safe.” He patted Bannon’s arm where it still 

clutched at his chest and whispered a few soothing words to his mate 
before pecking him on the lips. “You know I can help or you 
wouldn’t have brought me. I love you, but I need you to trust me.” 

“It’s not you I’m havin’ a problem trustin’, a ghrá.” 
“Then you’ll just have to come with me so you can protect me 

from the big, bad wolf.” He grinned mischievously and tugged 
Bannon forward. Slowly and carefully, he knelt on the floor, giving 
Bannon a reassuring smile when the man growled deeply. Then he 
reached through the bars and curled his slender fingers around 
Becker’s wrist. 

His eyelids closed, his long lashes fluttering against the tops of his 

cheeks, and he shook his head fractionally. Turning his attention to 
Bannon, Torren noticed the man watching his lover intently, his eyes 
crinkling at the corners as his head tilted to the side. With a bit of 
awe, he realized the pair was using their mating bond to communicate 
telepathically. 

“Wolf-shifter and human,” Bannon mumbled. “There’s somethin’ 

else, but Galen says that doesn’t feel like a part of him. It’s more like 

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a shroud coverin’ him.” He frowned and his eyebrows drew together 
as he finally looked up at Torren. “What does that mean?” 

Torren felt both relieved and frustrated. “It means he’s been 

cursed. I could feel the shroud Galen’s talking about, but I couldn’t 
tell if it was his own or from someone else. Thank you.” 

“Why don’t you look happy about the information?” Galen asked 

as he pushed to his feet and stepped away from the cell.  

“Because if he’s been bewitched, I can almost guarantee that it 

was Natalie Halstead who did it. If she’s executed before I can 
convince her to undo the spell, then Enforcer Becker will be 
permanently damaged.” 

“The spell doesn’t die with the witch.” Galen bobbed his head. “I 

remember you saying that before.” His head tilted to the side, his soft, 
brown curls falling over one eye. “You’re more powerful than she is. 
Why can’t you reverse the spell?” 

“It doesn’t work that way.” Torren pinched the bridge of his nose 

and sighed as he tried to think of how to explain. “The only way I can 
reverse the spell is if I take her magic. Otherwise witches can’t tamper 
with each other’s spells.” 

“Then take her magic,” Bannon said as though the answer was 

very obvious and Torren was dense for not seeing it. 

“I don’t want it.” Torren shook his head and linked his hands 

behind his back. “Magic is like an extension of a witch. Natalie’s soul 
is dark, and therefore so is her magic. Dark magic can taint a witch, 
poison them. I have too much to lose to risk that.” 

“You really love him, don’t you?” Galen’s eyes softened, and a 

goofy smile spread over his lips. “I’m glad Aslan has you.” 

“Yes, I love him. Our memories are returning and we have a lot of 

time to make up for, but fate cannot be ignored.” He didn’t want to 
talk about Aslan, though. His mate was never far from his thoughts, 
and already he was fighting the urge to rush up the stairs, find his 
lover, and ravish him to within an inch of both their lives. 

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“Then I’m thinkin’ ya need to be polishin’ your negation skills.” 

Bannon looked sympathetic, but not overly so. He was still a little 
peeved at Torren for deceiving them when he’d been sent on his last 
assignment.  

Not that Torren could blame him, but at the time, it couldn’t be 

helped. He’d done what he had to do to protect everyone in the only 
way he knew how. He couldn’t take it back, and he wouldn’t 
apologize for it. 

“Is Aslan busy?” 
Torren smiled. It had been almost six days since Aslan had seen 

his friends. With Halloween only two days away, he knew his baby 
was nervous about what might happen. Galen would be a nice 
surprise to lift his spirits. “I think he’s trying to teach Lynk and Raith 
how to play the Xbox. I’m sure he could use a break. My brothers are 
not exactly gracious students.” 

Even as he spoke the words, Raith’s voice drifted down into the 

basement, loud and angry. “You cheating little shit! How am I 
supposed to blow you up if you won’t sit still?” 

They all burst into laughter at Raith’s indignation. Then Galen 

pushed up on his toes, kissed Bannon’s cheek, and waved before 
jogging out of the room. Bannon watched him go before turning back 
to Torren. “So, what’s the plan?” 

He didn’t want to do it, but he was running out of time and 

options. “When do Nicholas and Jonas arrive?” 

“Tomorrow evenin’,” Bannon answered immediately. 
Torren nodded. “Then Phillip McCarthy can wait. I’m hoping 

Nicholas can either reason with him or give me something more to go 
on.” He looked the Enforcer in the eye, took a deep breath, and let it 
out slowly. “I need you to take me into your dreamscape, along with 
Natalie.” 

 

* * * * 

 

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“You cheating little shit! How am I supposed to blow you up if 

you won’t sit still?” Raith’s tongue was stuck between his teeth, and 
he jerked his entire body as he tried unsuccessfully to blow up 
Aslan’s car in front of him. “This blows!” 

“This blows!” Wren sang, clapping his little hands together as he 

bounced up and down on the cushion beside Raith. 

“Raith!” Aslan admonished as he paused the game and knelt down 

in front of the little pixie. They still had no idea where the boy’s 
parents were or how to contact them. Thank the gods that Galen had 
spotted him while searching for Torren’s brothers. 

Bannon’s brothers had located the child and rescued him from a 

pack of werewolves in Missouri, and then brought the orphan to The 
Council. He was exceptionally bright for only five and cute as a 
button. Aslan adored him but sometimes his heart would ache when 
he looked at Wren. With his ebony curls and smoky eyes, he looked 
so much like what he imagined Addison would have at that age—the 
child Aslan had lost all those years ago. 

“Wren, what did I tell you about repeating what your Uncle Raith 

says?” 

Wren wrinkled his nose and tilted his head to the side. “That I 

shouldn’t say them, because Uncle Raith and Uncle Lynk say bad 
stuff.” 

A quiet chuckle reached his ears, and Aslan looked up to see 

Galen standing near the end of the sofa, beaming from ear to ear. He 
grinned back, pleasantly surprised to see his friend. Galen wasn’t 
paying much attention to him, though. “Hello, Wren. Do you 
remember me?” 

“Galen!” Wren jumped up from his seat and darted across the 

room, throwing his arms out for Galen to pick him up. “You didn’t 
come back to play,” he pouted once he was in Galen’s arms. 

“Did, too,” Galen replied and stuck his tongue out, earning him a 

giggle from Wren. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

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“Yep.” He bounced a little and gave Galen a smacking kiss on the 

cheek before looking over his shoulder at Aslan. “Can we play, 
please?” 

“Yeah,” Galen teased. “Please, Aslan? Can we play?” 
“Sure,” Raith answered, passing over his controller. “I can’t get 

this fu—ow!” He glared at Aslan as he rubbed the back of his head, 
sending Lynk into peals of laughter. “I mean, I suck at—ow! Damn it, 
Aslan! Ow! Stop hitting me!” 

“Then stop swearing,” Aslan said calmly, crossing his arms over 

his chest and mirroring Raith’s glare. 

“Fine. I quit.” He pushed up from the sofa and stomped out of the 

room like a petulant child. Lynk was laughing so hard his face was 
bright red, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing as he 
stumbled out of the room as well. 

“Is Uncle Raith mad?” Wren whispered to Galen, his little face a 

mask of worry. 

Aslan crossed the room and held his arms out, delighted when 

Wren reached for him immediately and curled into his chest. “Uncle 
Raith is not mad at you. Sometimes you get mad when you lose a 
game, right?” Wren nodded slowly. “That’s all it is. He’s just a sore 
loser.” 

“I don’t like when he yells.” 
“Oh, honey, I know.” Aslan stroked his soft curls and swayed him 

side to side. “No one here will ever hurt you.” 

“My daddy hurt me,” Wren whispered and buried his face in 

Aslan’s throat as he hiccupped. “I don’t want to go back. I want to 
stay here with you.” His arms wound Aslan’s neck and clung to him 
tightly. “Please. I’ll be good.” 

Looking over at Galen, he saw the heartbreak he felt staring back 

at him in his friend’s expression. Tears filled Galen’s eyes, but he 
wiped them away roughly. With his arms full of a scared little boy, 
Aslan didn’t have that option, so he just let his tears spill down his 
cheeks. 

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“Aslan?” Torren appeared in the room, Bannon right beside him, 

and both looking very concerned. “Baby, what happened?” 

Not wanting to alert Wren to his tears, Aslan just shook his head 

and glanced down at the top of the pixie’s head. Understanding lit in 
Torren’s eyes, and he hurried across the room to lift Wren out of 
Aslan’s arms and cradle him gently to his own chest. 

“Hey, little man. What’s with the long face?” 
Watching Torren with Wren was beautiful, and it did little to stem 

the flow of his tears. How the man could have ever thought he 
wouldn’t be a good father was beyond Aslan. Torren was so 
wonderful with Wren. 

When Aslan had first arrived, the staff had been the ones caring 

for Wren. Once he’d met the little boy, he had been enchanted, and 
they’d been pretty much inseparable since. It might have taken a little 
longer for Torren and his brothers to warm up to Wren, but once they 
let their guards down it took precisely ten minutes for them to be 
wrapped around the little guy’s tiny fingers. 

“I want to stay here,” Wren answered, his fists clenched in 

Torren’s shirt. “Can I please stay here? I’ll be good. I promise.” 

“Don’t you want to see your mommy and daddy?” Torren spoke 

lightly, but he’d already confessed to Aslan how attached he was to 
Wren already. 

Wren shook his head, making his dark hair flop around his face. 

“Daddy yells a lot since Mommy went to Heaven. He’s not nice like 
Uncle Raith, though.” Torren looked at Aslan in confusion, but he just 
shook his head, wanting Wren to continue. “I promise I won’t get 
hungry all the time or leave my toys on the floor,” he vowed. “I won’t 
even cry when I have bad dreams.” 

Small for his age, Wren looked even tinier in Torren’s massive 

arms. But he wasn’t afraid. He clung to the witch, looking very 
content to stay right where he was for as long as Torren would let 
him. Aslan wasn’t sure his heart could contain so much love and not 
split wide open, but he was willing to risk it. 

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“Buddy, do you know your daddy’s name?” Torren asked quietly 

as he patted Wren’s back. “Is there something that grown-ups call 
him?” 

“The cook called him Bastard.” 
Aslan suppressed a snort and looked away quickly so that Wren 

wouldn’t see his smile. Bannon wasn’t quiet as successful at hiding 
his humor, however, as he chuckled quietly. He looked absolutely 
smitten with the child—just like everyone else who’d met him. 

“How about something else?” Torren asked, obviously trying not 

to laugh as well. “And you shouldn’t say that word.” 

“’Cause it’s a bad word?” Torren nodded, and Wren did as well. 

“Some people called him Mr. Reeves.” 

“That’s good,” Torren praised the boy. “I’m very proud of you for 

remembering that.” 

Wren’s sweet face lit up in a huge grin. “Can I stay now? Please, 

please, pretty please?” 

Torren chuckled and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m not going 

to let anyone ever hurt you again. You got that?” 

Nodding rapidly and still grinning from ear to ear, Wren threw his 

arms around Torren’s neck and hugged his fiercely. “Thank you, 
Torren. I love you.” 

Torren looked surprised but recovered quickly, holding Wren 

close and resting his cheek on the top of his head. “I love you, too, 
little man.” 

Just like that, Aslan was a bawling, blubbering mess all over 

again. It really wasn’t his fault, though. In that moment, watching the 
man he loved comforting the little boy in his arms, Aslan saw his 
entire future laid out in front of him, and he wanted it so much that he 
ached with it. 

“You can never have that. Your mate will tire of you soon and 

cast you aside like the others. Come back to us. We’re the only ones 
who truly care about you.” 

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It had been several days since he’d heard the snide, calculating 

voice. With his heart overflowing with love, it was almost too easy to 
tune the little cocksucker out, though. 

“You’re wrong,” he said silently. “I have everything I need right 

here.” 

“Why is everyone crying?” Raith asked as he walked back into the 

room with a small carton of chocolate milk in his hand. 

“Who’s crying?” Galen’s voice cracked, and he wiped at his eyes 

again. 

“Are you still mad?” Wren asked, refusing to relinquish his hold 

on Torren. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.” 

Raith smiled and shook his head. “You didn’t make me mad, little 

dude. Look, I brought you some chocolate milk.” He held it up and 
winked. “So, am I forgiven?” 

Wren wiggled until Torren passed him over to Raith. “Yes, now 

gimme.” 

Raith chuckled, but Aslan frowned. “What do you say?” 
“Umm, gimme, please?” 
Aslan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Close enough. Raith, make 

sure he eats something with that.” 

“I’ll race you for the last ice-cream bar.” 
Wren squealed and darted out of the room once he was on his feet, 

Raith hot on his heels. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Aslan yelled after them. He huffed and 

threw his hands in the air. “I give up.” 

Torren wrapped him up in his arms and spun him around in a 

circle. “Stop worrying so much, caro. We’ll make sure they eat their 
vegetables and brush their teeth before bedtime.” 

“You are an idiot.” Aslan was laughing as he pressed his mouth to 

Torren’s, though. “I love you, too, you know.” 

“Mmm,” Torren purred. “How much?” 
“Take me to bed and I’ll show you.” 

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Chapter Ten 

 
After a quick check to be sure that their guests would keep an eye 

on Wren, Torren tossed Aslan over his shoulder and raced down the 
hall toward their suite. Reaching up, he swatted his little mate on his 
upturned bottom. “What are you giggling about?” 

“Impatient much?” 
“I’ve been thinking about sinking my cock into your tight ass all 

day. What do you think?” It wasn’t a lie. He’d been sporting a semi 
since he woke up that morning, walking around on autopilot and 
debating just blowing the whole day off and taking Aslan to bed. He 
still needed to meet with Bannon, but he had a couple of hours yet, 
and he intended to make every single minute count. 

Stepping into their bedroom, he flung Aslan on the bed and 

prowled up his slim body, growling seductively in the way he knew 
drove his man wild.  

“Gods, I love that,” Aslan moaned, dropping his head back on the 

pillow to expose his neck and give Torren more room to play. 
“Hurry.” 

Torren had no intentions of doing anything so foolish. “I finally 

have you right where I want you, and I plan to take my time.” 
Spotting the scars on his mate’s neck, Torren traced them lightly, 
frowning at the marks on the otherwise flawless skin. He’d seen them 
before, but never asked how Aslan had come about them. “What is 
this?” 

Aslan tensed, lifting his head as though in slow motion to look 

into Torren’s eyes. “It’s nothing. Just a couple of scars.” 

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“And that was a brush-off if I ever heard one. You want to try that 

again?” He arched an eyebrow in question, letting his lover know in 
no uncertain terms that he wasn’t budging on this. 

Aslan shrugged and pushed up to press his back against the 

headboard but wouldn’t meet Torren’s gaze. “I was sold to a vampire 
coven a while back that used me as their personal snack machine. One 
night they got a little carried away.” 

Anger roiled through him, boiling his blood that something had 

happened to his mate and he’d not been there to protect him. 
“Continue.” 

“They ripped my neck open and basically drained me. I guess I 

died after that. I woke up some time later tired, hungry, and hurting 
everywhere.” 

Aslan hadn’t been claimed or bonded to Torren at the time. How 

had he come back from that? Logically, Torren knew that a witch had 
to die and reawaken in order to become a Limina. Having been to the 
other side and returning to the realm of the living was what created 
the threshold in the first place. 

“When you d–died.” It was almost too much for him to get the 

word out, and the mere thought sent his heart racing in panic. Taking 
a deep breath to calm his nerves, Torren tried again. “When you died, 
where did you go?” 

“Somewhere dark, cold, and lonely,” Aslan replied in a hollow 

voice. “I don’t ever want to go back there.” 

Purgatory. While a soul was trapped in Purgatory they could be 

recalled to this realm. Who had called Aslan back, though? “Baby…” 
Torren trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his question. It was likely 
that whoever had pulled Aslan back from the abyss wouldn’t want to 
draw attention to themselves. “Did you hear a voice or see anyone 
while you were in that dark place?” 

To his surprise, Aslan nodded slowly. “There was a man there at 

the end. He was really hot.” Aslan giggled when Torren growled at 

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him. He didn’t like his mate thinking about other men like that. “He 
looked kind of like you, actually.” 

Torren perked up at the information. “Like me how?” 
“Big, dark hair, these sexy black eyes.” He laughed and swatted at 

Torren when he growled again. “He had a tattoo.” Aslan rubbed his 
right arm from shoulder to elbow. 

Swallowing hard, Torren tried not to get his hopes up. “Did he say 

anything? Did he tell you his name?” 

“I think so, but I can’t remember it.” 
“Think, baby. This is really important.” 
Aslan bobbed his head again, his eyebrows scrunching together as 

he concentrated. “It was a funny name. I thought he’d mispronounced 
it or I’d heard him wrong.” He sucked his bottom lip between his 
teeth and chewed it vigorously. Then he started mewling softly, 
rocking himself back and forth and slapping his palm against the side 
of his head in frustration. 

Taking his mate’s wrist, Torren gently pulled his hand away from 

his head and drew his lover into his arms. “Hush now, caro. It’s 
okay.” 

“You said it was important.” Aslan started thumping his forehead 

against Torren’s chest. “God, I’m so fucking useless.” 

“That’s enough,” Torren said firmly. He grabbed Aslan’s chin and 

forced his head back so that he could look into his eyes. “You are 
without a doubt the most amazing person I know. Besides myself, you 
are the only person who I trust unconditionally. No matter what 
happens or what we’re up against, I know that you’ll always have my 
back. In my book, that is far from useless.” 

While essentially the same at his core, this reincarnation of Aslan 

was still someone new, with unique feelings, thoughts, concerns, and 
uncertainties. Torren had been so happy to find his Infinity that he 
hadn’t stopped to consider that. He was treating Aslan as though he 
was the same man he’d been over a hundred and fifty years ago, 
which he realized wasn’t fair to either of them. 

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The connection was still there, however, the bond between them 

as strong as ever. Since finding the balancing half of his soul, he’d 
been less gruff and far easier to get along with—according to his 
brothers, anyway. He still had a hard time placing his faith in others, 
though. Not so the case with Aslan. The man owned him, and Torren 
was more than pleased with his possession. 

The memory of love during their lifetimes was comforting but 

unrealistic. Aslan was a different man, and therefore Torren would 
need to love him differently. It was a learning process, but he couldn’t 
deny the warmth that spread through him each time Aslan did 
something as simple as smile or hold his hand. 

Part of him wanted to blame the whole thing on their shared soul. 

A much larger part wanted to punch him in the mouth for being an 
idiot. Fate had designed Aslan to be perfect for him in every way, 
shape, and form from his small, lithe body to his endearingly quirky 
personality. 

Somewhere deep inside, Torren had pushed away and denied a 

seemingly ingrained need to care for someone. Up until a week ago, 
he’d been certain that he didn’t need anyone but himself. The truth of 
the matter was that Aslan needed his strength, and Torren needed to 
surrender some of his rigidly held control. They were so well matched 
that their union could have only been formed by destiny. And who 
was he to deny the carefully set path rolled out before him? 

“Did I lose you?” 
Torren felt a soft hand cup his jaw and his lover’s thumb brush 

across his bottom lip. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he smiled 
tenderly and pressed his mouth to Aslan’s. No matter what form the 
man took, it was so easy to love him. “Sorry, baby. I was just 
thinking.” 

“Good things, I hope.” 
Sliding his hands beneath the hem of Aslan’s shirt, Torren pressed 

his palms flat against the warm expanse of his mate’s belly as he 
nibbled at his delectable lips. “Definitely good.” His voice was thick, 

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husky, and barely recognizable to his own ears. He didn’t miss the 
shiver that rippled through his lover, either, and it made him grin. 

Aslan let out a shaky breath and snaked his arms around Torren’s 

neck to pull him closer. Rolling to the side, Torren pressed his lover 
into the mattress and slipped Aslan’s shirt over his head to reveal the 
taut, quivering muscles beneath. Insinuating a hand between their 
tightly pressed bodies, he massaged the growing bulge straining 
against Aslan’s zipper with his palm as he attacked the fragrant skin 
at the base of his throat. 

Humping up against Torren’s hand, Aslan released a series of 

sexy little whimpers that seriously tested Torren’s self-control. He 
wanted to take his time and enjoy exploring his mate, but those erotic 
sounds pouring from Aslan’s kiss-swollen lips went straight to his 
cock, causing it to jerk almost violently within its confinements.  

“More, more, more,” Aslan chanted, grabbing Torren’s hand and 

pressing it more firmly to his swollen dick as he rocked harder and 
faster. His eyes glazed with mindless need, his skin flushed with 
arousal, and as his heartbeat accelerated, so did Torren’s. 

Deciding to give them both a small measure of relief, he 

whispered a few carefully chosen words and groaned when their 
clothes vanished, leaving their damp, heated skin to press together 
without barriers. Torren’s cock wept in gratitude, dripping a generous 
amount of pre-cum from the slit and onto Aslan’s inner thigh, 
allowing for a slippery glide as Torren thrust against him. 

“Oh, fuck, yes! Your hand is so hot,” Aslan moaned. “Feels 

good.”  

Torren’s hand now held his lover’s naked cock, jacking him 

quickly as the length pulsed inside his fist. The spongy crown 
glistened with clear drops of liquid, and Aslan’s lower abdominals 
flexed as he writhed under Torren’s touch. Giving the rigid shaft a 
final squeeze, Torren released his hold, moving Aslan’s hand to 
replace his. “Hold this for me.” 

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Half chuckling and half moaning, Aslan grabbed his cock and 

stroked fast, his hand a mere blur as it raced up and down his length. 
His muscles tensed, and he rolled from side to side, bucking his hips 
up occasionally as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain 
covered his face. 

Sensing that he didn’t have much time before his lover erupted 

like Mount Vesuvius, Torren dove across the bed and grabbed the 
lube from the nightstand with a triumphant cry. It would only take a 
fairly elementary spell to have Aslan stretched and slicked, but it felt 
kind of like cheating. He loved preparing his mate and fighting the 
slow buildup of sexual tension until he felt he’d go mad with need. 

Coating his throbbing cock first, he then dribbled more of the gel 

over his fingers and tossed the bottle to the side. Aslan was moaning 
in earnest, his eyes squeezed tight as he thrust up into his tight fist. 
Legs spread wide and feet planted on the mattress, he unknowingly 
held himself open to Torren’s questing fingers. 

They were both too far gone for slow teasing, so Torren skipped 

the preliminaries. Separating his mate’s muscled globes with his slick 
digits, he found the prize he sought and pushed into Aslan’s clenching 
hole with two fingers, straight up to the second knuckles. 

“Are you going to do this alone, or do you think you can wait for 

me?” 

Aslan’s movement slowed only marginally, and he didn’t even 

open his eyes as he spoke. “I’ll wait if you hurry the fuck up and get 
that gorgeous cock in my ass.” 

“Damn, I love your dirty little mouth.” Adding a third finger, he 

stretched his lover as quickly as he could without hurting him, his 
control teetering precariously on the edge.  

“Torren, please!” 
He loved the begging more than he loved the dirty talk. Unable to 

wait any longer, Torren extracted his fingers and lined the head of his 
dick up with his lover’s pink hole. “Ready?” 

“Fuck me, damn it!” 

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Guess that’s a yes. Surging forward, his eyes rolled to the back of 

his head as his cock was encased in the tightest, most incredible heat 
he’d ever felt. Aslan’s inner walls contracted around his length, 
massaging rhythmically and sucking him in to the root. 

Swiveling his hips, he grinded his groin against Aslan’s pert ass 

while he gripped the back of his lover’s thighs, digging his fingers in 
as he fought to hold back his orgasm. Pulling out until only the flared 
crown was trapped inside Aslan’s clutching passage, he paused for a 
heartbeat before driving back inside the snug channel. 

Aslan’s head rolled from side to side on the pillow, his chest 

heaved with his rapid breathing, and his damp skin practically 
glittered in the light from the bedside table. Soft cries and deep moans 
reverberated around the room, bouncing off the walls and hitting 
Torren like lightning bolts of pure pleasure. 

His cock swelled further, pulsing with his heartbeat as he thrust 

harder, faster, driving deep as though searching out his lover’s soul. 
Pushing Aslan’s knees back toward his ears, Torren practically folded 
the man in half as he loomed above him, hammering into his body at a 
furious pace. 

Sweat dripped down his nose, and his hair clung to his neck and 

shoulders. His chest rumbled and primal grunts huffed from his lips 
with every demanding plunge. The need to possess his mate, to crawl 
inside of him and take up residence pounded inside his head, sizzling 
his receptors and frying his brain. 

With only that thought in mind, he wound one arm around Aslan’s 

waist, jerked him off the bed, and spun them so that he had the 
smaller man pinned against the wall. “Hands over your head,” he 
ordered. 

Aslan’s eyes went wide, but he quickly complied, throwing his 

arms up over his head and crossing his wrists. Torren pinned them to 
the wall with one hand while he kept a firm hold around Aslan’s hips 
with the other. “Let me in,” he growled before scraping his teeth over 
his mate’s collarbone. 

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Aslan tilted his hips up as the tip of Torren’s shaft found his 

lover’s slick opening without any guidance from him. Just the feel of 
his cock kissing the tight ring of muscles snapped any remnants of 
self-control he harbored, and he drove forward until his balls slapped 
against Aslan’s heated flesh. 

It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get close enough, deep enough. His 

hips jerked in rapid-fire movements, but it wasn’t fast enough. Aslan 
writhed against the faded blue wall, choking moans pouring from 
him, but that wasn’t enough, either. Torren wanted him screaming.  

Cheating or not, Torren mumbled a simple spell to keep Aslan’s 

arms bound to the wall, freeing his hand for other pursuits. Aslan 
gasped and the muscles in his arms flexed as he pulled against the 
invisible restraints. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he 
groaned long and low, surrendering himself to Torren. 

Curling both elbows under Aslan’s knees, Torren rolled him until 

his spine curved then pressed his thighs wide apart. “Stay,” he 
grunted, and Aslan froze in position. 

“Oh. My. Gods!” 
It wasn’t quite a scream, but they were getting closer. Satisfied 

that his lover wasn’t going anywhere, Torren began an all-out assault, 
plowing into his clenching channel as he used his fingers to pinch and 
tug at Aslan’s nipples. His mate’s cries grew in volume, and Torren 
could practically see his heart thumping against ribs, but he wanted 
more. 

Slipping a hand between them, he used two fingers to rub over the 

tight muscles stretched around his cock. With his other hand he 
fondled Aslan’s sac, tugging his balls gently away from his body and 
releasing them. 

“Oh, damn…I can’t…I’m gonna…” 
His mate had been reduced to a mindless pile of babbling goo—

just the way Torren wanted him. Abandoning the exploration of his 
lover’s balls, he palmed Aslan’s dripping cock and stroked him in 
time with his trusts. As his own climax barreled down on him, he 

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pressed one finger alongside his shaft and pushed inside Aslan’s 
tunnel. 

There was the scream he was looking for. Aslan’s body bucked 

and shuddered, his scream of ecstasy loud enough to be heard by 
anyone in the house as he unleashed a river of cum to splash against 
his belly and roll down his sides. 

The sight of his debauched angel, the smell of his release, the 

sounds of his pleasure, and the unyielding hold his ass held on 
Torren’s cock finally pushed him over the edge. He roared until the 
walls shook while he jerked and shuddered, pouring his essence into 
his mate’s channel and filling his depths. 

Once he’d drifted down from his blissful high, Torren released his 

holding spell on Aslan, catching him in his arms and pulling him 
close. “Thank you.” 

“I can’t feel my legs,” Aslan replied, but he had the goofy little 

smile on his face that only the well fucked could wear. “Damn, that 
was amazing.” 

Chuckling softly, Torren walked them to the bathroom and 

propped Aslan up against the sink while he started the shower. He 
didn’t know how much time had passed, and didn’t really care, but he 
did need to speak with Bannon before the man gave up on him and 
left. While it would be nice to wrap himself around Aslan and forget 
the rest of the world existed, he had too many responsibilities waiting 
on him to completely disappear. 

“Thane,” Aslan whispered from behind him. 
Torren froze and closed his eyes on a prayer, hoping like hell he’d 

heard his mate correctly. “Where did you hear that name?” He turned 
slowly and studied Aslan, giving him a hint of a smile so he knew 
Torren wasn’t angry, even if his voice was a little gruff. 

“That’s who was there in the dark place. I thought I had to be 

hearing him wrong, and it was Blaine or something, but I’m sure he 
said Thane. Do you know him?” 

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Closing the short distance between them, Torren cradled Aslan’s 

face in his hands and kissed him on the lips. “Thane is my brother.” 
He didn’t want to push after Aslan’s reaction earlier, but he needed to 
know. “Was he there with you at the coven?” 

“I never saw him.” Aslan’s eyes looked so sorrowful as he shook 

his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Torren.” 

“Hush now.” He debated asking anything further, but in the end, 

he just couldn’t stop himself. “Do you know where the coven is?” Not 
only was there a chance that they still held Thane, but the bastards 
needed to be brought to justice for what they’d done to Aslan and 
probably countless others. 

“I think it was here in Wyoming.” 
Torren’s heart beat a little faster at the information as he stepped 

away and tugged Aslan into the shower. “What makes you say that?” 

Aslan shrugged. “I didn’t travel very far when I was moved to that 

basement where I met Jory and the others.” 

He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know the answer. The words 

came without his permission anyway. “What happened to you there?” 

“Nothing good,” Aslan whispered while he lathered his hair with 

the shampoo. His eyes dropped, and he had to take a deep breath 
before he continued. “Jory and Willow got the worst of it, though. 
The rest of us just got punched around and used as blood bags 
mostly.” 

“Aslan.” Torren reached for him, but Aslan stepped back from his 

advance. 

“I thought this was The Council house. Where the hell is 

everyone?” Aslan changed the subject, effectively letting Torren 
know that the previous conversation was closed to further discussion. 

Deciding not to push, Torren allowed the topic change. “This is 

one of The Council houses. They have several around the world. To 
answer your question, Camdin hasn’t left his room since he got here. 
Elder Means doesn’t care for the Braddocks much. He disappeared 
the day I moved in.” He paused and frowned down at his toes. “And 

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Layke has been suspiciously absent lately.” He wondered what the 
other elder was up to, but figured he’d find out sooner or later without 
too much digging on his part. It wasn’t like he didn’t already have 
enough shit to deal with. 

Washed, rinsed, and dried, Torren wrapped a towel around his 

waist and stepped into his bedroom right as Wren came bursting 
through the door. 

“Wren, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to knock.” 

He’d meant to sound stern, but he doubted he’d pulled it off well. The 
kid was just too damn cute standing there with his wide eyes and 
bright smile. From the moment Aslan had waltzed into his office and 
dropped Wren in his lap, Torren had lost his heart. 

“Sorry,” Wren answered, not looking it at all. “There’s a big 

doggy in the living room.” He held his arms wide to show off how 
big. Then he put his hand to his mouth and giggled. “He’s holding 
Uncle Lynk and licking him.” 

“Ah, shit.” Torren turned to his dresser but paused and looked 

over his shoulder at Wren. “Don’t repeat that.” 

Wren giggled again and bobbed his head up and down obediently. 

Aslan waltzed out of the bathroom with his own towel wrapped 
around him and beamed when he saw Wren. “What are you doing 
here, little monster?” 

“Big doggy!” Wren repeated as he bounced a little where he 

stood. 

Aslan arched an eyebrow at Torren and shook his head. “You 

handle that. I’ll get Wren ready for bed.” 

“I want to pet the doggy.” Wren pouted, his little lip sticking out 

and trembling pathetically. 

Torren had no idea who was in his living room, but he wasn’t 

letting Wren near them. “What if we get you your own puppy?” he 
found himself asking. God, he was such a pushover. One little quiver 
of that pink lip and he was putty in the kid’s hands. 

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“Yay!” Wren clapped his hands together and darted from the 

room. 

“I’ve got him.” Aslan threw on a pair of sweats and chased after 

the tiny pixie. He did pause at the door, however, and threw Torren a 
wink over his shoulder. “I want a puppy, too.” 

“Okay.” What the fuck? Before he could recall the words, Aslan 

had disappeared, his laughter ringing down the hallway. Torren just 
hung his head and sighed. “I am so screwed.” 

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Chapter Eleven 

 
Aslan hurried down the hall to the living room to find out what all 

the commotion was about. “What’s going on?” 

Raith had Wren perched on his hip and was laughing so hard he 

could barely breathe as he pointed across the room. 

A huge, russet-colored werewolf held Lynk in his arms while he 

licked up the side of his neck and rumbled in what Aslan hoped was 
approval. Lynk didn’t look to be a willing participant as he struggled 
against the wolf’s hold, hurtling every insult under the sun at him. 
Bannon stood off to the side, shaking with his own amusement as 
Galen danced around the werewolf, swatting him with a rolled up 
newspaper. 

“Put him down,” Galen ordered, stomping his foot. “Right now, 

Kieran. I mean it!” He whacked the wolf on the nose again. “Now!” 

Kieran looked up and huffed at him before going back to nuzzling 

and licking at Lynk. Bannon roared with laughter, Raith had turned a 
brilliant shade of red, and even Wren was giggling madly. 

“Let me go, you stupid, overgrown, idiotic fur ball!” Lynk jerked 

one way and then the other. He kicked out, landing a solid blow to 
Kieran’s knee, but the beast didn’t even flinch. 

Aslan had a feeling that things were about to get ugly, though. 

“Raith, go put Wren down for the night. He can take a bath in the 
morning.”  

Still chuckling, the witch nodded and carried Wren off to get him 

ready for bed. Aslan had to admit that he was proud, though a little 
shocked, at how quickly the Braddock brothers had fallen into the 
routine of caring for the child. 

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“What the hell is going on in here?” Torren roared, making Aslan 

jump as he swung around to look up at his mate. 

“Umm, I’m going to guess that Lynk is Kieran’s mate. And he 

doesn’t look like he’ll be letting go any time soon.” 

He was afraid Torren might choke at first. The man stared at his 

brother trapped in the arms of the wolf for a full minute before he 
doubled over in laughter. It was the first time Aslan had seen him 
really and truly laugh. It did funny things to his belly and made him 
feel all warm and mushy on the inside. His big, scary lover was 
utterly gorgeous when he laughed, and Aslan decided he was one 
lucky man. 

While Torren and Raith were giants compared to him, Lynk 

wasn’t much taller or wider than Aslan. Kieran in shifted form 
completely dwarfed the man as he held him in his furry arms and 
continued to stroke Lynk’s neck with his impossibly long tongue. 

“Kieran Delaney, I’m going to call your sister,” Galen threatened 

with his hands on his hips. When that didn’t work, he went to hit 
Kieran with the newspaper again. It was all very hilarious until he 
missed and caught Lynk on the shoulder instead. 

Aslan pressed himself flat against the wall and covered his ears 

with his hands as Kieran let out an ear-piercing roar. Setting Lynk on 
his feet, he pushed the man behind him and growled viciously at 
Galen. Bannon was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Galen up 
and jerking him away from the beast. Aslan slid down to the floor and 
trembled violently as all hell broke loose, sure that someone was 
going to get hurt before they got Kieran under control. 

“Oh, for the love of Christmas,” Lynk huffed. He marched right 

around Kieran to stand between him and Bannon and shoved him in 
the chest. “Would you knock it off already?” Aslan was about to beg 
Torren to intervene when Lynk did something he’d never have 
expected. He grabbed a hunk of fur on Kieran’s chest, jerked it 
roughly, and tilted his head to the side to expose his throat. “Just get it 
over with.” 

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There was no pause, no confusion or awkward moment of 

indecision. Kieran jerked Lynk into his arms and struck hard and fast, 
embedding his canines in the smaller man’s neck. Lynk cried out, but 
it didn’t sound like he was in pain. Aslan was still extremely grateful 
that Torren didn’t need to bite him, though. No matter that Lynk 
seemed to be enjoying himself, it didn’t look very pleasant to Aslan. 

Extracting his fangs and licking over his mating mark, Kieran 

began to shrink as he slowly returned to his human skin. When he had 
shifted fully, he reached up to cup Lynk’s cheek, wearing the sappiest 
grin on his face. All he got for his efforts was a right hook to the jaw, 
though. 

“Now go away,” Lynk said icily before spinning around and 

storming out of the room like an angry buffalo. Kieran just rubbed at 
his jaw with a perplexed expression on his face.  

“You aren’t even safe in your own home,” the cruel voice 

whispered in Aslan’s mind. 

“Maybe you should be going home now,” the female coaxed, her 

voice dripping with honey. 

“Yes, indeed. You have no use for these barbarians.” The other 

male voice sounded highly agitated, which wasn’t at all normal. “Did 
you see that beast almost make a meal out of your friend? What kind 
of ruffians are these? We must go at once.” 

“And your gallant knight didn’t even try to protect you.” This 

voice was new and made Aslan’s heart hammer as he trembled 
violently. “Why look at him now. He hasn’t even noticed you here on 
the floor. Perhaps it’s only your body he loves.” Aslan jumped and bit 
down on his tongue to cut off his yelp when invisible hands began 
caressing his chest and abs. “What a lovely body it is, too.” 

He brushed inconspicuously at his chest, trying to knock the 

nonexistent hand away. This new voice wasn’t as cold as the first, but 
just as inauspicious—just as ominous. “He doesn’t love you. 
Remember how he let you die? He will always put himself first, put 
his needs above yours. Remember.” 

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Unsolicited memories assailed him, flashing through in his mind’s 

eye like highlights of a movie clip.  

The rain beat down on them as they were shoved unceremoniously 

to the sodden ground. The torrential downpour wasn’t enough to 
extinguish the flames that engulfed their home, though.  

A baby’s cry rose up over the wail of the wind and the pounding 

of the rain. Aslan fought against his captors, struggling to get to his 
feet and to his child. A sudden backhand sent him flying sideways, 
face-first into a puddle of icy water. 

“Give us the Regelatis!” one of the men ordered. His hand fisted 

in Torren’s hair, jerking his head back on his shoulders. “Give it to 
us or he dies.” His head tilted unnecessarily toward Aslan. 

In the next instance a big hand grabbed his chin to yank his head 

up, and the cold tip of a blade pressed against his throat. Aslan 
ceased his struggles, begging Torren with his eyes to just give them 
what they wanted. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he was terrified of 
what they’d do to Addison. 

He could see it in his mate’s expression, feel it in the 

overwhelming guilt and sorrow that flowed from Torren and into him. 
Torren wasn’t going to give them the book. 

Coming out of his memory, Aslan felt like he was surfacing from 

a frigid lake as he sucked in deep breaths to his aching lungs. His 
chest felt heavy as though his heart was ripping in two, and unbidden 
tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Come home with us,” the new voice whispered to him, and 

Aslan recognized it as that of the man who’d carried Addison away in 
the storm. “We can protect you. Love you. We can give you what he 
can’t.” 

Unseen hands began stroking him again—along his throat, over 

his chest, up his arms. Ignoring the touches, Aslan lifted his head and 
looked across the room to find Torren and Kieran snarling in each 
other’s faces, standing so close that their noses almost touched. 

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Off to the side, Galen was stroking Bannon’s chest, whispering to 

him and obviously trying to calm him. Aslan didn’t think it was really 
working, though. Bannon looked about two seconds away from 
launching himself at the werewolf. 

Their shouts, growls, and snarls all mingled together in a 

cacophony of noise that Aslan didn’t understand. He didn’t register 
any words, though he knew insults were flying between Torren and 
Kieran. Nothing made sense to him, and he was so tired.  

“Sleep, Aslan.” Invisible fingers stroked through his hair. “We 

can give you what you need.” 

Just as he was drifting off, a warm weight settled in his lap, and 

small hands squished his cheeks together. “I’m scared,” Wren 
whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. “Torren is very mad.” 

Those smoky, gray eyes were like a lifeline, wrapping around his 

heart and pulling him back from the void. Cradling the child to his 
chest, Aslan stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Yes, he 
is. Grownups get angry sometimes, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean 
that we would ever hurt you or that we don’t still love you.” 

Wren nodded and burrowed in closer, curling his knees up to his 

chest and resting his head on Aslan’s shoulder. “Can I sleep in your 
room?” 

“Tell him no.” 
“Of course you can. Do you want to get your piggy?” It was the 

ugliest damn pig that Aslan had ever seen, and he couldn’t fathom 
why Wren loved the thing so much, but whatever made the boy happy 
was fine by him. 

Wren nodded eagerly, his smile coming fast and easy. 
Getting his feet under him, Aslan started to stand, but sharp, 

sickening pain exploded in his temples, causing him to cry out as his 
back arched away from the wall. He had just enough presence of mind 
to tighten his arms around Wren to keep the child from being thrown 
to the floor, but it was a near thing. 

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The pain subsided in his head, but before he could even catch his 

breath, it felt as though white-hot pokers were rammed through both 
of his sides. Aslan screamed again, throwing his head back against the 
wall and releasing Wren as sweat coated his entire body. He’d never 
felt anything so painful, and had serious doubts that he’d live through 
it. 

“I can make it all go away. Just let go. Come home, Aslan.” 
Wren climbed back up in his lap and slapped at his cheeks. 

“Aslan?” His sweet little voice was so full of concern. 

He wanted to answer the summons, but the nonexistent spears in 

his sides chose that moment to twist, and Aslan grinded his teeth 
together until he was sure they would shatter to keep from screaming 
again. If he did what the voice said, it could all stop. But at what 
price? 

Luckily, he didn’t get a chance to find out. Strong but gentle arms 

slid under him, lifting both him and Wren into Torren’s protective 
embrace. Those soft lips that were made for leisurely kissing brushed 
over his forehead, murmuring comforting words to him. Wren’s tiny 
hands landed on either side of Aslan’s face as he leaned up to mash 
their noses together. 

“You all better?” 
Though he didn’t think it was possible, Aslan found himself 

chuckling quietly. “Yeah, little man. I’m all better now.” 

Wren wrinkled his nose adorably and nodded once as he petted 

Aslan’s cheek like he would a cat or a puppy. “Do you want a Band-
Aid?” 

Torren’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled them 

closer to his heart and started walking down the hallway. Kieran’s 
angry voice drew him to a stop, though, and Aslan squeezed his eyes 
closed, praying the idiot would just go away. 

“I’m not finished talking to you.” 
“Well, I am finished. We can talk later.” 
“Torren, this is important. I need your help on this!” 

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Torren growled under his breath. “Then I suggest you call a 

repairman, because my give-a-damn is busted. Fix your own mess, 
Kieran.” Then he turned back and left the man sputtering behind them 
as he carried them to their bedroom. 

“Aslan said I get to sleep here.” Wren lifted his head and pointed 

at the big king-size bed. His expression held a hint of stubbornness, 
but Aslan knew he’d relent without argument if Torren said no. 

Of course, Torren had no resistance to the little imp. “Do you 

want me to get Mr. Pokey?” What a ridiculous name for a stuffed pig, 
but Wren had refused to rename him. 

“Please?” 
Torren winked and settled them both in bed, waiting for them to 

get comfortable before he pulled the blankets up around their 
shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” 

Aslan sighed in contentment when Wren snuggled up to his chest 

and rested his little hand on the side of Aslan’s neck. The boy’s next 
words brought a hitch to his breathing and tears to his eyes. “I love 
you,” Wren whispered around a yawn as though it was no big deal at 
all. 

“I love you, too,” Aslan returned, trying to be just as nonchalant, 

but thinking he probably didn’t pull it off very well. 

Wren was almost asleep when Torren returned, but he blinked 

open his eyes and patted the mattress behind him, indicating that was 
where Torren should sleep. With a gentle smile, Torren held up one 
finger before he grabbed a pair of sleep pants and disappeared into the 
bathroom. 

Finally dressed for bed, he crawled under the blankets and draped 

an arm over Wren to rest on Aslan’s hip. “You okay, baby?” 

Feeling the warm weight of his mate’s hand on him and listening 

to Wren’s soft snoring, Aslan reached over and skimmed his finger 
down the slope of Torren’s nose. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to 
be.” 

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Torren looked concerned, but he simply bobbed his head and 

nestled down on his pillow. “I love you, caro.”  

It was the first time that he had said it directly, and chasing 

quickly behind Wren’s declaration, Aslan wasn’t sure how much 
more he could take. The two were trying to kill him. So, he did what 
anyone would do in his place. He grinned like the cat that ate the 
canary. “I love you, too.” 

His heart full to overflowing, Aslan closed his eyes and joined 

Wren in a peaceful sleep—the stuffed pig, Mr. Pokey, forgotten at the 
foot of the bed. 

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Chapter Twelve 

 
Waiting until he was sure Aslan was fast asleep, Torren eased out 

of bed and stood, just staring down at the two people who had become 
his entire world in a very short amount of time. They hadn’t talked 
about it at length, but Torren knew how much Aslan loved the little 
boy in his arms. His own heart melted into a liquid puddle every time 
Wren smiled at him. 

After hearing the pixie’s accounts of his parents, Torren knew 

he’d fight tooth and nail to keep Wren from having to go back there. 
With any luck, maybe he could get some information from the pack 
alpha they’d rescued Wren from. Hopefully, it would be enough to 
press charges against a certain Mr. Reeves. 

What would become of Wren after that, though? Was The Council 

house an appropriate place for the little one to grow up? After the 
stunt Kieran had pulled in the living room, Torren had his doubts. 
Still, something ached in his chest at the thought of giving up Wren. 

While he’d tried to remain impervious to the child’s charms, he 

had failed miserably. The minute he’d been plopped down in Torren’s 
lap, Wren had offered a sweet smile, traced the tattoo on Torren’s 
forearm, and admonished him for drawing on himself. Torren fell in 
love instantly. 

Wishing he could stay in bed but knowing he had important 

business to attend to, he scrubbed at his face and bit back a sigh of 
longing. Not willing to risk waking either of his sleepyheads, he 
tiptoed from the room dressed only in his sleep pants, and closed the 
door quietly behind him. 

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Entering the living room, he was pleased to see that someone had 

at least found Kieran some clothes. While nudity was a common 
occurrence amongst shifters and weres—and apparently didn’t bother 
them in the least—Torren wasn’t fond of naked men running about 
his house with Aslan and Wren there. 

“How is Aslan?” Galen asked the minute he saw him. He fidgeted 

nervously, his eyes shining with desperation for news about his 
friend. 

“He and Wren are sleeping. He seems okay, but I’ll talk to him 

more when he wakes up.” Torren had been holding back, not wanting 
to frighten Aslan, but after the episode earlier, he knew he couldn’t 
wait any longer. The voices had been quiet for the last few days, but 
obviously, they were back with a vengeance. 

“You need to tell him,” Raith said from the sofa.  
Torren wasn’t in the least surprised to find Lynk absent from the 

room. That was another mess he’d have to deal with, but it wasn’t 
high priority at the moment. “I will when he wakes up. Let him rest 
right now.” 

“I just hung around to apologize,” Kieran said from near the door. 

“I swear I have no idea what happened. I just came over to talk about 
the pups, and then Lynk walked in the room…” He frowned down at 
the beige carpet and shook his head. “I’m going to go, but I’d like to 
talk to you later.” 

Since Torren needed Lynk’s help, and he doubted his brother 

would acquiesce with Kieran there, he nodded at the werewolf. “I’ll 
give you a call.” The man was trying to be civil, and Torren figured 
the least he could do was meet him halfway. “Even though the twins 
aren’t mine, my offer still stands. I will help in any way I can, but I’ve 
kind of got my hands full right now.” 

Kieran bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I got it. We still 

have a lot of questions, and I’m hoping you can help.” 

“And I will,” Torren assured him. “In the meantime, try giving 

Alpha Taylor a call. From what I hear, I think he might be able to help 

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you find the pups’ biological father.” For whatever reason—and 
they’d need to find that answer as well—everyone, including the 
witch, Natalie, had thought the children belonged to Torren, so there 
had been no reason to go searching for their parentage. They certainly 
had reason now, though. 

“I’ll do that. Thanks for not killing me, and I am sorry about 

Lynk.” Kieran looked a little sad as he turned toward the door. “He’s 
never going to forgive me.” Then he was gone before Torren could 
offer any kind of condolences. 

It was probably for the best, since he had no clue what he was 

going to say. Lynk was pissed, but if he was Kieran’s mate, that 
meant Kieran Delaney was Lynk’s Infinity. He could fight it all he 
wanted, but Torren knew from experience that his brother wouldn’t be 
able to resist the pull forever. 

“Are ya still wantin’ to dreamwalk?” 
Pushing away thoughts of his brother’s less than romantic 

claiming, Torren turned to Bannon and inclined his head. “Yeah, let’s 
get this over with.” 

“I’m coming, too,” Galen said at once, crossing his arms over his 

chest defiantly. “You know I can help, so don’t even give me any 
lip.” 

Bannon growled and narrowed his eyes, but it was obvious that he 

would give in. “Wouldn’t even think of it, now would I, darlin’?” 

It wouldn’t do for him to laugh, but damn, it was funny to watch 

the big shifter bow before his much smaller mate. Was Torren like 
that with Aslan? He thought he probably was, and surprisingly, was 
more than okay with it. “So, how do we do this?” 

 

* * * * 

 
Tranquilizing himself was a bitch, and Torren just knew his mate 

was going to throw a fit when he found out. Since they didn’t have the 

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special sleep drops that Bannon normally used, they didn’t have many 
other options, though.  

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get some small measure of 

satisfaction out of shooting Natalie Halstead…even if it was just with 
a sedative dart. Seeing the vile, manipulating tramp crumple to the 
floor with the sneer still on her lips was a surprisingly enjoyable 
experience. 

Being inside Bannon’s fucked-up, creepy-ass dream, however, 

was not. “What is this place?” 

“Bannon has issues,” Galen answered immediately. He shrugged 

when Bannon snorted at him. “I’ve learned to just go with it.”  

“You can create anything you want here?” 
“Aye, for the most part. Is there somethin’ you’re needin’?” 
Torren looked down at his nude chest, cotton sleep pants, and bare 

toes. “Some different clothes would be nice.” 

He should have known to be more careful in his request. The next 

thing he knew, he was dressed in a formfitting, white halter dress with 
pink and green polka dots. The hem barely reached to midthigh, but 
Bannon hadn’t stopped there. The white go-go boots that reached up 
to his knees were definitely a nice touch. 

Galen grabbed his ribs and fell against Bannon, howling with 

laughter until he was gasping for breath. Bannon held his mate up and 
just waggled his eyebrows, giving Torren a loud wolf whistle. “Shake 
it, darlin’!” 

“You’re an idiot.” Torren crossed his arms over his chest and 

glared, though he was fighting to hold in his own amusement. It had 
been ages since he’d just joked around and had fun with…friends. 
With some shock, he realized that’s exactly what the residence of 
Haven had become to him. Whether he’d meant for it to work out that 
way or not, he now had friends—which meant more people depending 
on him to keep their asses safe. 

“Oh, crap, I wish Aslan could see this,” Galen managed to get out 

through his mirth. 

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In the next moment, a sleep-tousled Aslan came shuffling in 

through the fog surrounding the clearing they stood in, rubbing at his 
eyes and looking totally confused. The moment his gaze landed on 
Torren, all bleariness fled, and he arched an eyebrow as though 
Torren was in some serious trouble. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, love?” 
Busted. Torren shot a murderous look at Bannon before 

smoothing his hands over his abs and grinning brightly at his lover. “I 
have a pretty dress.” 

All three men in the circle created by the fog fell on their asses 

and laughed until Torren though they’d rupture something or possibly 
pass out from lack of oxygen. Their shared camaraderie felt good, and 
Torren was happy to be a part of it. Still, they needed to get things 
moving, and he had no desire for Aslan to be anywhere near Natalie 
when they did. 

Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, he motioned for his 

lover to come to him. Aslan popped up off the ground and jogged 
across the clearing to stand in front of him. The dress disappeared, 
replaced by a plain, black T-shirt and a pair of well-worn, faded jeans 
while a pair of black hiking boots adorned his feet. “Much better,” 
Aslan purred, running his hands over Torren’s chest. “That dress 
made your ass look big.” 

Chuckling quietly, Torren slid his knuckles under Aslan’s chin 

and tilted his head up for a kiss. “You can’t be here, Aslan. Don’t 
argue with me on this one. It’s dangerous, but we’ll discuss why in 
the morning.” 

“It’s because of the voices, right?” 
So intuitive. “Yes, and I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before 

now. I’ll explain everything when you wake up, okay? Can you trust 
me for just a little longer?” It was asking a lot considering the secrets 
he’d been keeping, but Torren hoped for the best. 

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“I’ll always trust you,” Aslan whispered as he took Torren’s hand 

and placed a kiss in the palm. “Will you come back to bed when 
you’re finished slaying the wicked witch?” 

“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.” He clenched his fist as 

if holding onto the kiss Aslan had bestowed upon him and pressed his 
hand over his heart. It was a sappy and sentimental move, but it 
matched the emotions swirling inside of him. “Go rest now, caro. I’ll 
be there soon.” 

“Don’t make me miss you for too long.” That’s all he said before 

looking over his shoulder at Bannon, giving him a brief nod, and 
strolling back toward the edge of the circle. The fog swirled as he 
stepped through it then rolled back into position, knitting itself back 
together as Aslan disappeared, taking Torren’s heart with him. 

“Are ya ready then?” Bannon asked, pulling Torren out of his 

melancholy. “Should I bring the witch now?” 

“There are at least five witches in this house,” he teased. “I’m 

here, one just left, and I’m pretty sure that two others are still awake.” 

Bannon huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as Galen, ya 

are. You’re knowin’ the witch I’m meanin’.” 

“Yeah, let’s do this.” 
The words were no more out of his mouth when Natalie walked 

through the fog, her eyes locking on Torren with an understated 
hatred. Her blonde hair curled in ringlets over her shoulders, her 
complexion as smooth and flawless as the perfection of buttercream. 
No more than five-foot with a willowy frame and narrow waist, many 
had mistaken her for weak and vulnerable. Her girlish appearance was 
nothing more than a clever ruse by Mother Nature, intended to hide 
the vile, cruel nature that wrapped around her soul like a serpent. 

“She’s scared,” Galen whispered, his voice too quiet to carry 

across the distance. 

If that was the case, no one would know by looking at her. She 

held her head high, her shoulders pushed back so that her ample 

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breasts thrust forward. Torren could detect no quivering, nothing to 
indicate that she wasn’t perfectly in control of herself. 

“You know this won’t work,” she called to them, but made no 

move to come closer. “I know your tricks.” 

“She doesn’t know all of them.” Galen once again spoke quietly, 

the cocky smile evident in his tone. 

“Release Hollis Becker,” Torren called back to her. 
“I’ve done nothing to the shifter.” 
“She’s lying.” Galen narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed in 

concentration. “She also knows that you realize she’s lying.” 

“Why those pups?” Ignoring the warning bells going off in his 

head, he took a chance and pressed on, trying to lead her thoughts to 
where he needed them to go. “You knew they weren’t mine. Why did 
you think you could use them against me?” 

Natalie remained silent, but Galen gasped, his hand twitching as 

though he’d move it to his mouth. He schooled himself at the last 
moment, though, adopting a look of indifference, but Torren could 
feel him shaking. He just didn’t know what emotion caused his 
muscles to quiver as they were. 

“She knew they weren’t yours,” Galen mumbled out of the side of 

his mouth. He swallowed hard, and he sounded a little sick when he 
continued. “You were supposed to be with her.” 

“Excuse me?” Torren managed not to shout the question, but his 

body burned with rage. “I’m supposed to what?” 

“She didn’t want your magic. She wanted—still wants—you.” 

Shivering again, Galen stared straight ahead, his eyes locked with 
Natalie’s across the clearing. “You were with the cub’s mother, but it 
should have been her. She murdered the mom, but something 
happened before she could get the twins.” 

Torren wasn’t buying it. She might have known the children 

weren’t his. She may have even realized that the time frame was close 
enough that she could trick him into believing otherwise. Whatever 

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she knew or didn’t know, the objective had always been to obtain his 
magic. But to what purpose? 

With a flash of intuition, he realized that it didn’t matter. 

Whatever her plan, she had failed. She hadn’t obtained his magic, the 
pups, or even her freedom. While she’d tricked Enforcer Jonas Tracer 
into releasing her, Bannon had brought her right back. From this 
moment forward, she was at his mercy, her fate nestled securely in his 
hands. 

With a confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time, he knew exactly 

what he needed to do. There was no way she would surrender to him. 
Her heart was an ugly black hole, devoid of any emotion resembling 
compassion. There was just one thing he needed to know before he 
stepped over that proverbial line into no return. 

“Where are the other children?” The paranormal children who had 

blindly followed her sweet smile and hauntingly enchanted voice to 
their peril. While they hadn’t died at her hands, she as good as sealed 
their fates by draining their powers. It was a dark and poisonous 
magic that should have never been unleashed upon the world. 

“I don’t know,” Natalie answered steadily. 
Galen frowned and cocked his head to the side. “She’s telling the 

truth. She didn’t take the missing kids.” 

“I never killed a single one of them.” Natalie’s gaze bored into 

Torren. “You know what I did to them, and I don’t regret it,” she 
continued arrogantly. “I sent each one of them back to their homes, 
though.” 

“Well, fuck,” Torren spat. That just opened a whole new can of 

worms that he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with. “Release your 
spell on Becker.” He knew it was a pointless demand, but he wasn’t 
looking forward to what needed to be done. 

“Make me.” The lilt to her voice and the glint in her eyes that he 

could see even from a distance said that she looked forward to the 
prospect.  

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Though not his first choice, that’s exactly what Torren intended to 

do. 

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Chapter Thirteen 

 
The sun was peeking over the horizon when Torren finally 

dragged his eyelids back and arched against the sofa. Well, at least he 
could conclusively say that those damn sedative darts worked. 

Pushing to his feet and stretching the knotted muscles in his back, 

he eventually groaned and followed the sound of voices and smell of 
coffee to the kitchen. Raith and Lynk were there, talking in low tones 
with Bannon while Galen cut up pancakes for Wren. Aslan was 
nowhere in sight. 

“He’s still sleeping,” Galen said without looking up. “I think he 

had kind of a rough night.” 

Torren nodded, but his brow knitted in concern. Wanting to get to 

his mate as quickly as possible, he unloaded everything on his 
brothers in one quick drop. “I think I know where we can start 
looking for Thane.” All eyes snapped to him, but he ignored them. 
“I’m going to have to take Natalie’s magic. I’m not looking forward 
to it, but this has gone on long enough. We’ll figure out what to do 
with Phillip when Leader McCarthy gets here. That’s it.” 

“Where is Thane?” Raith asked, rising from his place at the table. 
“We’ll discuss it later. I need to talk to Aslan.” Turning to leave 

the kitchen, he paused but didn’t look back. “I want to swear both of 
you in as Enforcers. The choice is yours, however, so you need to 
decide by tomorrow night. Halloween,” he emphasized, in case any of 
them missed the significance of what they were facing. 

Without waiting for a reply, he strode out of the kitchen and down 

the hall to wake his lover. It took no time at all to reach his door, but 
it felt like the longest journey of his life. Steeling his heart, his 

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courage, and his resolve, he pushed the door open, knowing he’d soon 
be walking out of it for the last time. 

 

* * * * 

 
They were so closely intertwined that Aslan knew the exact 

moment Torren had woken from his drug-induced slumber. Pushing 
up in bed, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat waiting with his 
back to the headboard. Something was wrong. He could feel it like a 
heavy weight on his chest—like dark, insidious clouds that tumbled 
restlessly inside his soul. 

When Torren walked through the door of the bedroom they 

shared, Aslan swore he felt the temperature drop. Cold, bone-
numbing fear settled into his heart, freezing his blood and making him 
quake under his lover’s gaze. 

The torment and longing that warred inside Torren at that moment 

was not only visible in his eyes, but blasted from him in waves, 
hitting Aslan like an emotional wrecking ball. Whatever the man had 
to say, it would be nothing good. 

When his mate didn’t come to him but moved to sit on the 

loveseat near the window, his throat constricted, burning as the panic 
began to claw at him, making it hard to draw in air to his lungs.  

“Do you see now? You were only temporary. He doesn’t want 

you.” 

Aslan tried to push the voice away, but it was harder to drown out 

the litany of noise in his mind when his emotions ran so close to the 
surface. In fact, the only times he’d been able to completely erase the 
voices was when he felt confident in his place at Torren’s side. Just 
then, however, he felt anything but certain.  

“You’re hearing the voices again, aren’t you?” Torren crossed one 

leg over the other and pressed his fingertips together, looking relaxed 
and self-assured. 

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Aslan nodded since he was incapable of any type of audible 

response. His mouth and throat were so dry, his chest so constricted, 
he doubted he could utter so much as a hum at the moment.  

Torren had promised to help him, and in a way he had. He’d still 

yet to explain anything, and Aslan had been too scared to ask. As long 
as he could keep the anxiety at bay, the constant whispering and 
murmuring was easy to ignore. Knowing where those noises came 
from was unlikely to give him any peace, but whether he wanted 
answers or not, he had a feeling he was about to get them. 

“You are a Limina,” Torren said matter-of-factly, as though Aslan 

was supposed to know what the hell that meant. He didn’t have long 
to worry over the definition, because Torren began speaking again 
almost immediately. “You are a threshold between the world of the 
living and the dead. During times when the veil between the worlds is 
the thinnest, such as Halloween, spirits will be able to pass through 
you from Purgatory and back into our realm.” 

So, the voices he heard weren’t figments of an overactive 

imagination and a fragile psyche? He wasn’t broken, damaged beyond 
repair? He was hearing the ramblings of the deceased. It should have 
been more of a surprise, but Aslan realized that somewhere in his 
subconscious, he’d already made the connection. 

It was the new voice—the eerily familiar sound of the man who 

had stolen his son and spirited him away in the night so many years 
ago. That had been the catalyst that finally pushed him into 
understanding, but it was such a foreign concept that he’d refused to 
allow himself to even entertain the possibility. 

“So, I’m sure you understand how important it is that we don’t let 

this gateway open,” Torren pressed on, unaware or uncaring that 
Aslan was beginning to fall apart. He stared down at his steepled 
fingers as he spoke, sounding cold, clinical, like a physics professor 
lecturing his students on subatomic particles. “Raith will teach you 
some exercises to help you control your magic when you become 
overemotional.” 

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“My magic?” Aslan croaked. What the hell did that mean? 
Torren studied him for a moment before he returned to the 

contemplation of his fingernails. “Were you not aware that you are a 
witch?” 

Hell no, he hadn’t been aware! He didn’t have any magic. His 

father was a witch, but Aslan had never exhibited the gene—a 
constant source of disappointment on top of everything else. Never in 
his life had he performed a spell or done anything else extraordinary. 
And there were plenty of times when that little trick would have come 
in damn useful. 

“I take it that you didn’t know.” Torren’s stilted, formal speech 

was grating. Aslan had only heard Torren like this once before, and it 
had resulted in devastating rejection. Is that what was happening 
now? Was Torren essentially telling him good-bye? 

Instead of destroying him as he thought it would, the knowledge 

pissed him off. Flying out of bed, he knocked Torren’s ankle down 
from his opposite knee, pushed in between his legs, and poked him 
right in the chest. “You fucking bastard!” 

Obviously, his mate hadn’t been expecting his reaction because 

his eyes rounded as he sucked in a sharp breath. Just as quickly, 
though, he returned to his cool disinterest. “Aslan, calm down.” 

“Shut up,” Aslan warned, his tone dripping with venom. “My 

whole life people have decided I wasn’t worth it. Hell, I never even 
understood what ‘it’ was, but apparently, I just didn’t measure up. I 
get it. Everything has been hard for me, but you try living your entire 
life with these goddamn voices in your head.” 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Torren asked in polite 

interest…nothing more. 

“I tried!” Aslan exploded. “My parents couldn’t decide if I was 

crazy or possessed, so they sold me like a faulty stereo in a yard sale. 
Would you tell anyone else after that? Would you open that part of 
you to other people just so they could strip you bare and leave you to 
bleed? You’re not the only one with trust issues, Torren Braddock.” 

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“This isn’t about me.” Calm. Collected. 
“You’re damn right it’s not. It’s about us. Four different times 

we’ve found each other, and that means nothing to you? You’re just 
going to throw it all away? Other people can think I’m strange, weird, 
or just plain stupid. It’s okay for them to turn their backs, but 
you…you are my protector, my rock. You do not get to walk away 
from me.” 

The barest flicker of emotion passed through Torren’s eyes, too 

quickly for Aslan to name it. His anger deflated as quickly as it had 
flared, leaving him drained and weary. Slowly lowering to his knees, 
he rested his head on Torren’s thigh and wrapped his fingers around 
his lover’s calf. “I need you, Torren. I can’t do this without you.” 

“But you don’t need him. I can show you things. You can be 

strong, fearless…powerful. Let me show you.” 

The longer Torren remained silent, the more Aslan’s resistance 

began to crumble. How much more could he take before he just caved 
in on himself? 

“It’s better this way,” Torren said stubbornly, but Aslan could feel 

the muscles quiver in his thighs. “Four times we’ve found each other, 
and three times it has ended in tragedy. It can’t happen again.” 

“He speaks the truth and you know it. Together your lives are 

forfeit. Alone, you can soar.” 

He hated that voice, hated the intoxicating sound of that siren’s 

call, but it had done the trick to pull him out of his despair. It would 
be so easy to stop fighting and just give himself over to the growled 
demands and the promises offered to him. Someone else had made a 
promise to him, though, one he was much more interested in, and he 
intended to make his lover remember it. 

Torren had given him what he needed, allowed him to slam the 

door on his insecurities and bolt it shut. While Torren might think he 
was doing the right thing, separating them to protect Aslan, he was 
wrong. 

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Crawling up his mate’s body and straddling his hips, he grabbed 

Torren’s face in both hands and kissed him with every ounce of joy, 
devotion, desperation, need, and desire that raged inside him. “We’re 
stronger together. I’m not letting you give up on us. We were meant 
to be together, two parts of a whole in the most elemental sense. I 
belong to you.” He sealed their mouths together for another taste of 
his lover before pulling back again. “Belong to me.” 

Torren panted against his lips, his cock rising up in his pajama 

bottoms to rub against Aslan’s crease. He wasn’t finished being an 
obstinate bastard, though. His fingers gripped Aslan’s hips, holding 
him frozen in place. “Aslan, stop. This isn’t going to happen. It was 
wrong of me to claim you without your permission, and I apologize. I 
don’t want you, though.” 

They’d never talked about it, but Aslan knew Torren had claimed 

him their first time together. It was one of the most beautiful 
memories Aslan had and his lover was trying to sully it with his lies. 
“That might hurt if you weren’t such a horrible liar. You love me, 
Torren. Admit it.” 

“No.” 
“Say it.” Aslan tickled the seam of Torren’s lips with his tongue, 

coaxing them open. “Say it.” 

Torren opened his mouth, most likely to say something else 

stupid, but Aslan didn’t give him the chance. He plunged his tongue 
inside, laying siege to the warmth depths. “Say it,” he demanded. 

A glorious moan of grudging surrender burst through Torren’s 

swollen lips, and his arms locked around Aslan’s back like steel 
bands. He began babbling incoherently, words in a language that 
Aslan didn’t understand at first. Though he still couldn’t decipher the 
exact phrasing, he got the general idea when their clothes vanished 
and a blunt pressure pressed against his hole. 

“Sorry,” Torren grunted. “I can’t…I need…fuck!”  
Though Torren’s cock still rested along his lower belly, lined up 

beside his, Aslan felt his inner muscles stretch as though something 

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invaded his channel. There was no burn, no pain, only an earth-
bending pleasure that made him moan and jerk in Torren’s embrace. 

The pressure increased, the specter phallus invading his innermost 

depths, stretching him wide as an unseen lubricant wetted his outer 
ring and between his cheeks. “Torren, oh, sweet hell, please,” he 
begged, rocking his hips so that their leaking cocks rubbed together 
over his lover’s rippled abs. 

In one smooth, coordinated move, Torren lifted him up, 

positioned the crown of his dick at Aslan’s hole, and pulled him back 
down onto his lap as he thrust home with bone-jarring intensity. 
Torren held him crushed to his chest as he pounded into him wildly. 
One hand landed on Aslan’s right ass cheek, the fingers digging in 
and spreading him open. 

He couldn’t move, didn’t want to, willingly accepting everything 

his mate gave him. When Torren’s teeth clamped down on his 
shoulder just shy of breaking the skin, Aslan had to reconsider his 
aversion to biting when his pleasure spiked to unparalleled levels. 

“Can’t last.” Torren groaned against the side of his neck as he 

rode him hard, bucking up into him like a demon possessed. Then he 
did the one thing guaranteed to push Aslan over the edge. “I love 
you,” he whispered raggedly, sending Aslan spiraling out of control. 

His release blasted through him without warning as he shouted to 

the ceiling and long ropes of pearly semen spurted from his pulsing 
cock. Resting his forehead against Torren’s, Aslan rode out his 
climax, shuddering almost violently when his mate’s orgasm painted 
his inner walls, branding him as taken. 

Wrapped in the warm glow of postorgasmic bliss, there was only 

silence inside Aslan’s usually overcrowded brain. “If you aren’t 
careful I might start to think you like me.” 

Torren held him quietly for a long time, still buried deep inside his 

tunnel as he drew lazy circles on Aslan’s spine. “I’m sorry, caro.” 

Placing a soft kiss on the side of his lover’s neck, Aslan smiled as 

he felt himself getting sleepy again. “You’re forgiven. Don’t pull 

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away from me, Torren. I need you.” His life was a chaotic mess, and 
he needed Torren to ground him, give him purpose, and make things a 
little less daunting. 

A contented sigh rose up out of his lover, and Torren nuzzled his 

cheek against the top of Aslan’s head. “Not nearly as much as I need 
you.” 

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Chapter Fourteen 

 
There were a lot of people gathered in the meeting hall the next 

night, most of them Torren had never met before or had only brief 
associations with. He felt uncomfortable sitting on the raised platform 
behind the elongated podium with the other elders. He’d have much 
preferred to sit down on one of the benches with his mate. 

Aslan caught his eye from his seat in the front row and winked 

mischievously as he subtly brushed a hand over his groin. Torren’s 
cock twitched in response, and he suppressed a groan while shooting 
his lover a look that promised retribution once they were alone. Aslan 
looked delighted at the prospect, laughing and blowing him air-kisses. 

“Okay, now that everyone is here, we can get started,” Elder 

Layke Winters said with a sophistication that Torren could only envy. 
“First, why don’t we get the introductions out of the way? Xander?” 

A mountain of a man with long, dark hair and creamy caramel 

skin stood to address the room. “Alexander Brighton,” he said, 
smiling widely to show off his gleaming white teeth. “My pack just 
arrived yesterday and will be helping to acclimate the new 
Moonlighters to life here in Haven.” His expression darkened, and 
Torren sensed a quiet fury within the big shifter. 

He’d yet to meet the men Xander referred to, but knew from some 

of the Enforcers that the small pack of Moonlighters had been in 
rough shape when they rescued them from the mountains in Arkansas. 
It had taken a little persuasion, but eventually The Council granted the 
funds to purchase the acreage that ran adjacent to Haven. 

As a Moonlighter himself, Xander was certainly the most logical 

choice to help the newcomers. While Haven was one huge melting 

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pot of those beaten, broken, and homeless, unfortunately, it could still 
be dangerous for the white-pelted shifters. 

Torren didn’t know much about shifters in general, but everyone 

knew about the Moonlight Breed curse. There might be a wide variety 
of shifters, but none of them became an animal with a white coat 
other than those who had been cursed. 

The breed had been hated and hunted for as long as he could 

remember. People feared them, claiming that being in the presence of 
a Moonlighter during his or her shift would drive anyone to madness 
almost instantly. While the myth had been somewhat disproven in 
recent months, it would take much longer to change the mass’s 
opinion and curb their mistrust.  

A smaller man with stylishly mussed hair stood beside Xander 

and took his hand. “Xander is our alpha,” he offered proudly, though 
unnecessarily. 

Xander brought the man’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over 

the knuckles before offering a soft smile. “Hush now, chulo.” 

Ah, his mate. It was getting easier for Torren to recognize other 

relationships now that he had Aslan in his life—and therefore a basis 
for his analysis. “And this is?” 

“Braxton Carmichael,” Xander responded, returning his attention 

to the elders. He didn’t release Braxton, though, even going as far as 
to curl a protective arm around his shoulders. Motioning behind him, 
several other men stood, including Flynn, Boston, and Malakai. 

Torren wasn’t really on a first-name basis with the three, but he’d 

met them and liked them well enough. As for the others, he had no 
issues with them or their status as Moonlighters, but he was never 
going to remember all of their names. God, his head was starting to 
hurt. Why had Layke insisted on these introductions? Wouldn’t it be 
more prudent to just get down to business? Hell, Torren could mingle 
and meet everyone at the party afterward if it was that important. 

Once Xander was finished and everyone resumed their seats, four 

other men rose from across the aisle. “Alpha Ridley Thatcher of the 

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Trinity Pack,” the tallest of the group announced then proceeded to 
introduce his beta and two Enforcers. “We’re here to talk guns.” 

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. Still, there were other 

things to discuss first, orders to issue, and hopefully new elders and 
Enforcers to swear in. Elder Means sat to Torren’s right, staring down 
at his lap as though he’d rather be anywhere than in the room at that 
moment. “Elder, is there something you’d like to say?” 

There was a sad smile on his lips when the representative of the 

lycans and weres looked up. “I’m an old man, Elder Braddock. I 
know you think that I harbor ill feelings toward you, but that isn’t 
true. I simply feel that I have served my purpose—and possibly not as 
well as I could have. I just want to rest and be left in peace.” He 
gained his feet and nodded to the crowd. “I resign.” Then he stepped 
down from the stage and exited through one of the side doors without 
another word. 

“Uh, yes.” Layke looked to be fumbling for something to say. 
“Good riddance to the old codger,” Elder Cortez boomed with a 

lazy flick of his wrist. “Times change and if he can’t learn to adapt, 
then we need new blood.” The vampire smiled lasciviously and licked 
his lips, but ruined the effect by laughing shortly afterward.  

“Now we need to appoint another elder,” Torren said, only a slight 

pout to his voice. Why couldn’t things ever just be easy for him? 

Aslan chuckled at him and shook his head. “Behave,” he mouthed. 
“I nominate Kieran Delaney,” Cortez said casually. 
Kieran jumped his feet and shook his head. “Oh, hell no. That 

really isn’t going to happen.” 

“What about Raina?” Galen stood as well and linked his hands in 

front of him. “She’s smart, understanding, compassionate, but fierce 
as they come when crossed. She’d make an excellent elder.” 

“Oh, Galen, I’m really not qualified.” Raina Delany jumped up 

beside him, blushing all the way to the tips of her tiny ears. “There 
has never been a woman on The Council.” 

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Torren idly wondered where the twins were, but after a quick scan 

revealed that Teegan was absent from the proceedings, he figured he 
had his answer. “I think it’s a great idea.” Whether she knew it or not, 
Raina had the perfect temperament, the exact balance of kindness and 
ruthlessness needed to lead. “I second the nomination.” 

“All those in favor?” Layke asked. 
Except for those who had no idea who Raina was, the vote was 

unanimous. “We’ll swear you in after the meeting.” Torren gave her 
an encouraging grin, and though she looked a little shocked, Raina 
nodded her agreement and settled back down beside her brothers. It 
took only a couple of seconds for the surprise to disappear, replaced 
by a very self-pleased smile.  

Yes, she would make a damn fine elder. 
“Now, I believe Jory Lahman has been selected as the 

representative for the demons.” Layke arched an eyebrow at Stavion’s 
mate. “Do you have any objections?” 

Jory chewed his lip for a long time before he stood and shook his 

head. “I can do this.” Stavion looked like he’d bust from the seams 
with pride. Torren didn’t know the whole story, didn’t want to, but 
he’d heard enough about Jory’s past to understand just how far he’d 
come. Truth be told, he was kind of proud of the runt as well. 

Layke took another vote, and again, everyone was in favor of 

handing the reigns over to Jory. “Camdin Maywater couldn’t be here, 
but he has agreed to accept The Council seat for the fae. Those in 
favor?” People seemed less inclined to throw their support behind an 
elder that couldn’t even be bothered to attend his first gathering, but 
in the end, the majority won out. 

“Finally, that leaves a representative for the shifters. Are there any 

nominations?” 

One of the newcomers from the pack of Moonlighters bounced up 

from the bench—a shrimp of a man with spikey, blond hair and a 
cocky grin. “Make Xander an elder.” 

“Keeton, sit down,” Xander growled out of the side of his mouth. 

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“Why do you think he should be elder?” Torren asked. 
“Well, why the hell not?” The guy—Keeton—tilted his head to 

the side, a spark of defiance flashing in his eyes. He reminded Torren 
of Aslan, which went a long way in convincing him that he liked the 
guy already. “He’s smart, kind, loyal, protective of the people he 
cares about.” 

Braxton scrambled his feet as well, knocking Xander’s hand away 

when the alpha tried to hold him back. “He’s brave, honorable, and 
fair. You couldn’t ask for a better leader.” 

“Braxton,  I am going to redden your ass when we get home.” 

Xander’s comment earned him a cheeky grin from his mate and 
several chuckles from the rest of the room. 

“Agreed,” Boston and Flynn said at the same time. 
“Absolutely,” Stavion added. 
“I don’t particularly like the fucker, but he’d make a good elder.” 

Raven shrugged when Keeton and Braxton glared daggers at him. 
“What? I was agreeing with you.” 

Several others offered their support and after putting it to a vote, 

The Council had itself a new shifter elder with little hassle. Thank 
fuck for small miracles. 

“Next on the agenda.” Cortez shuffled some papers around in 

front of him. “Who wants to get rid of this fucking registry?” 

Torren about choked at the lack for formality but hid it quickly. 

Hell, they were all friends here. What was to say that they had to act 
like gods on high to get the job done? And if that was the case, why 
did he have to sit up there without his mate? 

His expression serious, he crooked a finger at Aslan, beckoning 

him up on the dais. Aslan looked startled as he hurried up on the stage 
and grabbed Torren’s hand. “What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Did 
something happen? Are you okay?” 

Damn, he loved this man. How had he ever thought he could walk 

away? “Just this.” He pecked Aslan on the lips as he slid the man into 
his lap and curled his arms around him. As he’d expected, no one had 

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a problem with Aslan perched in his lap. Most weren’t even paying 
attention to them, and those that were just assumed knowing grins. It 
was a good thing, because Torren didn’t really care if they liked it or 
not. 

Apparently, Aslan didn’t care, either, because he positioned 

himself more comfortably and refocused on the meeting. Everyone 
seemed to be arguing about the registry still. While most opposed the 
idea, there were a few in favor of it. 

The most prominent of those was Alpha Blaise Taylor from the 

Cloud Peak Pack. “The registry has been invaluable in helping us 
locate not only prisoners but fugitives as well.” 

Unfortunately, Torren couldn’t argue with him on that one. He 

also understood why most members of the gathering felt the registry 
was too intrusive, though. Maybe they could come to a compromise.  

“Quiet,” he called, settling everyone down and gaining their 

attention. “What if we do away with the official registry maintained 
by The Council?” Cheers went up around the room, but Torren called 
them back with an upheld hand. “But I propose that the packs, covens, 
circles, et cetera maintain their own registries that will be available to 
The Council only if the need arises to find a missing person or 
persons.” 

There was a murmur of discussion, a few questions, some more 

finagling, but they finally came to an agreement. “You’re really good 
at this.” Aslan kissed the underside of his jaw. “I love you, Torren.” 

Torren squeezed his lover tighter and kissed the side of his neck. 

“You make me want to be a better person.” 

“What about carrying guns?” Alpha Thatcher called. “This cloak-

and-dagger shit is all well and good, but it’s the twenty-first century. 
The bad guys don’t fight fair, and our Enforcers are dropping like 
flies.” 

This time it was Elder Cortez who headed the discussion. “I agree 

we need better weapons, but the goal is to debilitate and capture, not 
kill.” 

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“With all due respect, Elder, they’re not too picky about killing 

us.” 

Cortez chuckled and bobbed his head. “Point taken, Ridley. You 

always were a pain in my ass. What do you propose then?” 

Ridley jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward his beta. “Blair is 

a fucking weapons genius. We’ve got some ideas that might just fit 
what you’re looking for if you’d be willing to consider them.” 

“Any objections?” Cortez asked the other elders. Torren shook his 

head. He was well onboard with arming the Enforcers with better 
weapons. “Fine, we’ll talk more tomorrow evening.” 

“Elder Braddock.” Leader Nicholas McCarthy stood and bowed 

his head respectfully. “We found the wolf, Moonstar, dead a few days 
ago. The binding spell between her and my brother is broken.” 

Torren grinned. That was very good news. “And Mikko?” 
“We’ve interrogated the entire staff and are currently working our 

way through the sentries. So far, I don’t have any information about 
what Phillip may have done with your brother, but I assure you that 
I’ll keep digging.” 

It was all Torren could ask. “Thank you, Nicholas.” 
“What about Natalie Halstead?” Layke asked from the other end 

of the long table. 

As if the moment had been designed by destiny, the back door of 

the meeting hall banged open as Lynk stormed down the aisle looking 
mad enough to spit fire. “I’m going to kill that stupid son of a bitch!” 

Torren saw Kieran flinch and suppressed a grin. “Who would that 

be?” 

“He’s completely overreacting as usual,” Raith answered as he 

strolled in through the door behind Lynk. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Lynk didn’t even acknowledge him. “He drained that bitch of her 

magic. The result is disgusting. She’s all shriveled up like a dead 
leaf.” 

“Yes,” Raith drawled with an arched eyebrow at Lynk, “but the 

good news is that Hollis Becker is free of his curse. I was able to 

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reverse it once I drained the sleazy little harpy. Oh, and ding dong, the 
witch is dead.” 

“Is that a good thing?” Aslan asked, his eyebrows drawn together 

in confusion. 

In some ways it did make things much easier, but at what cost to 

Raith? “Why?” 

“You are not the only Braddock with a bit of magic, brother.” 

Raith became serious as he marched closer to the podium. “You have 
a mate who needs you, Torren. I couldn’t let you do it.” 

The dark, ominous magic he’d felt slithering through Natalie now 

resided inside his brother. It would slowly poison his soul, and there 
was no way to take back what he’d done. It wouldn’t kill him, but it 
could very well change all the things about Raith that Torren admired. 
Only time would tell. 

Still, he understood why the man had done it, and a small, selfish 

part of him was grateful. “Thank you, Raith. We’ll figure out 
something.” 

Raith waved his hand in dismissal. “I feel fine, but either way, this 

is my curse to bear and I chose it willingly.” He clapped his hands 
together and rubbed eagerly. “Now, who’s ready to party?” 

There was a little too much bravado in Raith’s tone for Torren’s 

comfort, but the deed had been done. Maybe there was something in 
the old archives that could help him. The reckless fool was his 
brother, and though he insisted he was fine, Torren knew better. He 
just didn’t know how to help him. 

“Don’t worry,” Aslan whispered. “We’ll find a way to help him.” 
Resting his chin on the top of his lover’s head, Torren sighed 

heavily. Yes, they would, but it wouldn’t be easy. Then again, nothing 
important ever was. 

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Chapter Fifteen 

 
Aslan couldn’t believe how hard his dick was. Watching Torren 

take charge of the meeting was sexy as hell. What had really done it 
for him, though, was when Torren had called him up on stage and 
settled him right in his lap, silently declaring that Aslan belonged to 
him and he didn’t care who knew it. 

Roaming around the open field, he tried to readjust his aching 

erection but finally gave up when every touch just made his cock 
swell more. It seemed that everyone in Haven was scattered about the 
field, talking in small groups, or just hanging out around the campfire. 
Some of the young ones were wearing costumes, a few roasting 
marshmallows with the help of their parents. 

Wren was running amok of the new shifter pack in Haven. His 

squeals of laughter rang out through the night when Xander lifted him 
up and tossed him into the air before catching him and spinning 
around in a circle. It was nice to see him having fun and just being a 
kid. 

Wandering over to the group, Aslan stopped beside two of the 

smaller members and held his hand out. “I’m Aslan.” 

“Braxton, and this is Keeton.” Braxton nodded toward Wren with 

a tender smile on his face. “Is he yours?” 

“Not officially, but I’m hoping.” He hadn’t talked to Torren about 

it, and he knew that they would have to settle things with Wren’s 
biological family first, but he wanted to be the boy’s father so much it 
hurt. 

“He’s a cutie,” Keeton said around his laughter when Wren 

launched himself out of Xander’s arms and practically tackled a huge 

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blond guy standing nearby. “That guy who looks like he just got 
clobbered over the head is Logan.” Keeton wiggled his fingers, 
showing off a wedding band on his left hand. “He’s mine.” 

Braxton pointed toward two men sitting on the ground a few feet 

from them. “The one shoveling food into his mouth is Jackson, and 
the grumpy asshole beside him is his mate, Talon. And I guess you 
already know Boston.” 

“Kitty!” Wren yelled, grabbing Logan’s face and squishing his 

cheeks together. “I wanna see!” 

Logan held the kid awkwardly in his arms with a look of someone 

who had no idea what he was doing, and it scared the hell out of him. 
“Yes, show him the kitty!” Keeton called with a snicker. He sauntered 
over and tickled Wren’s side. “Guess what, little man. We’ve got a 
whole zoo!” 

Wren’s eyes went wide and lit up with excitement. “Can I see? I 

wanna see.” He wiggled around in Logan’s arms, squirming to get to 
Keeton. Once he’d landed where he wanted to be, he wrapped his 
arms around Keeton’s neck and bounced a little. “Please? Pretty 
please?” 

“Sure thing.” Keeton looked up at his mate and arched an 

eyebrow. “Well, get to it. The kid wants to see a kitty.” 

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “Not going to happen, 

angel.” 

“Go on.” Keeton waved a hand toward the trees behind them. “No 

one wants to see your naked a—rump, but we do want to pet a pretty 
kitty cat.” 

“You, too,” Braxton demanded of Xander. “Get your butt in those 

trees and let’s see some tail.” He winked roguishly, and Aslan had to 
slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. Oh, he was really 
going to like having these guys around. 

After another few seconds of arguing, the big shifters finally 

relented, but they weren’t going down alone. “Talon, Jackson, get 
over here.” 

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Soon they were joined by not only those two, but Boston, Flynn, 

and Malakai as well. “What’s up?” Boston asked as he wrapped his 
arm around Malakai’s waist. 

“The little man wants to see some animals.” Keeton batted his 

long lashes and made kissy faces. “You wouldn’t want to break his 
little heart, would you?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Boston spoke as he looked out 

over the field. “Things are good here, but people are still skittish. I 
think seeing five Moonlighters would cause a panic.” 

Aslan wanted to smack himself in the head. He hadn’t even 

thought of that. Maybe it was because he knew the rumors and 
superstitions were untrue. Still, not everyone shared in his way of 
thinking.  

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t think.” Fuck, 

was he ever going to get it right? He could have put so many people 
in danger, including Wren. “Crap, I didn’t…I…I…” Mewling sounds 
welled through his lips but he couldn’t stop them as he rocked back 
and forth.  

“Hey, man, it’s cool.” Keeton touch his shoulder, squeezing it in 

comfort. “It was my fault, really. I’m so used to it just being us that I 
didn’t think about it, either. No sweat.” 

“Aslan?” Wren’s sweet voice penetrated his panic, and Aslan 

looked up, holding his arms out automatically when Wren leapt at 
him. “Can I see the animals now? I want to pet a giraffe.” 

The whole group burst into laughter. “Well, I don’t think we have 

a giraffe, but we’ll find some animals for you to pet tomorrow.” Aslan 
rubbed their noses together and kissed Wren’s forehead. “I think it’s 
someone’s bedtime.” 

“Who?” Wren asked innocently. Then his face brightened with 

understanding before he turned and looked up at the huge alpha. “You 
have a bedtime, too?” 

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“Yes, he does,” Braxton answered without missing a beat. He 

smacked Xander on the ass and pointed in the direction of the 
campfire. “Go on, mister. And don’t forget to brush your teeth.” 

Xander huffed and rolled his eyes before lifting Braxton over his 

shoulder, swatting his upturned bottom, and marching away. A few of 
the others left as well, leaving Aslan alone with Keeton until Jory, 
Kendall, and Galen wandered over to make their own introductions. 
Seeing Kendall reminded him of something, though. 

“When will Wren get his wings?” 
Kendall smiled as he caressed the little pixie’s back. Wren had his 

head rested on Aslan’s shoulder and was already about half asleep, his 
breaths becoming slow and even. “I think I got mine around twelve or 
thirteen, so you have a few years. Besides, you won’t be able to see 
them except for in the moonlight.” 

A warm, solid weight pressed up against Aslan’s back, and soft 

lips ghosted up the side of his neck. “He down for the count?” 

“Yeah, he’s worn out.” Poor little Wren was snoring softly against 

the side of Aslan’s neck. How children could go from hyper to 
passed-out in seconds flat amazed him. 

“I’m going to go check on Danica,” Kendall said quietly. “Would 

you like me to take him up to the house? You can pick him up before 
you leave.” 

Bless Kendall. He never made Aslan feel like he wasn’t capable 

of taking care of Wren, or that he wouldn’t be able to hold up to the 
challenge of raising a child. All of his friends were so supportive, and 
it made him realize that no matter what his past held, he was an 
incredibly lucky man. 

“Thank you, Kendall,” Torren replied when Aslan didn’t say 

anything. “We shouldn’t be much longer.” 

“No problem.” Kendall transferred Wren from Aslan’s chest to his 

own, gave them a little wave, and disappeared. Aslan was pleased to 
see that Kendall stopped on the way out of the clearing to grab his 
mate, though. Cassius would keep them safe. 

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“You worry too much.” Torren lifted him into his arms so that 

Aslan had to lock his legs around his mate’s waist or risk falling. 
“Have a little fun tonight, because things are going to get freaking 
busy after this.” 

He said it lightly, jokingly, but Aslan could feel the tension in 

Torren’s neck and shoulders. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s almost midnight. Nothing has happened yet, but I feel like 

we’re being watched.” It was a testament to the trust between them 
that Torren hadn’t lied or tried to redirect the conversation. 

“Here’s what I don’t get.” Resting his hands on his hips, Galen 

stared out into the trees that surrounded the grassy area. “I understand 
that Becker was being controlled or cursed or whatever by Natalie, 
but that doesn’t answer how he got onto the estate in the first place.” 

“Most likely a cloaking spell of some kind.” Torren followed 

Galen’s gaze, his eyes narrowed, his senses alert. 

“Aslan, run! Leave now!” 
Jerking in Torren’s arms, Aslan pressed a hand to his temple, 

trying to force the voice away. “Not now.” 

“Tell Torren to go. Get everyone out. Get somewhere safe. 

They’re coming. Hurry!” 

Then voices exploded inside his head, making his ears ring and 

pain throb inside his temples. 

“He lies!” 
“He can’t help you!” 
“Stay with us. We’re the only ones who care about you.” 
“Your mate will leave you. He doesn’t love you.” 
“Let us help you. Let us in.” 
“It’s them.” Aslan gasped as panic threatened to overwhelm him. 

“The witches that came that night. The ones who took Addison. It’s 
them, Torren. They’re coming. They want the book.”  

He knew he wasn’t making sense, but he couldn’t corral his 

frantic thoughts. The voices he’d been hearing for months were those 

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of long-dead witches who had kidnapped his child and murdered him 
and his mate. 

“Hide, Aslan. Get away and hide.” 
The voice, while urgent, didn’t frighten him like the others. If 

anything, it calmed him and gave him courage. “Who are you?” 

Torren looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Baby, are you 

okay? What’s going on? What are you hearing?” 

“Tell my stubborn-ass brother to go already, or I’ll bite him in the 

balls again.” 

“Your brother bit your balls?” Aslan wrinkled his nose. “Eww.” 
“Not like that,” Torren said absently. “It was the first time he’d 

shifted. He was just scared. I tried to—” He cut off abruptly and 
shook his head. “Mikko.” 

 

* * * * 

 
Torren couldn’t breathe. He had no idea how Aslan was hearing 

Mikko. Or maybe he did and was just too afraid to face the truth. Just 
then was not the time to dwell on it, though. Something was coming. 
He could feel it like a static charge in the air. 

Setting Aslan to his feet, Torren gave him a little shove. “Find as 

many Enforcers as you can. Start getting people out of here.” 

He’d expected Aslan to argue with him, so when the little man 

just nodded and took off across the field, Torren was momentarily 
stumped on what to do next. Watching his mate go, he had a sense of 
foreboding that he couldn’t shake. Whatever was coming—it came 
for Aslan. 

“What do you need from us?” Raith appeared at his side as though 

he’d teleported there. 

“Tell us what to do,” Lynk added, determination blazing in his 

dark brown eyes. 

Enforcers were running around the clearing, gathering people up 

and sending them on their way. Torren didn’t have a clue what story 

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they’d come up with, but it must have been a good one, because so 
far, no one was panicking. 

“Lynk, go to the main house. If you can’t put a protection spell on 

the whole thing, gather everyone in one room and lock it up tight. I 
don’t even want a breeze to get through that barrier. Got it?” 

“I’m on it.” Lynk sprinted across the field, dodging stragglers as 

his feet flew over the dying grass. 

“Raith, find Nicholas. He’s not strong, but we can use all the help 

we can get.” 

His brother was gone before he’d even finished speaking. 
“What can we do?” Xander and his pack moved in to surround 

Torren, though he noticed that the smaller mates were absent. Good 
men. He’d give anything to have Aslan away from there.  

“I need someone to find Aslan.” 
“He’s by the bonfire,” Boston informed him. “I’ll be back in a 

blink.” 

“Your mates are safe?” 
“Malakai is takin’ the Trouble Twins to the house.” Flynn 

chuckled and shook his head. “A more difficult pair I’ve never met. 
They’ll be fittin’ right in around here.” 

“Okay, we’re here,” Raith panted as he jogged up beside Torren, 

Nicholas and the vampire’s mate, Jonas, right behind him. “Protection 
spells?” 

“Yes, and hurry.” Then they were off again. 
The calmness of the clearing had dissipated, leaving behind a 

sense of urgency. “Just be ready,” he said, answering Xander’s earlier 
query. “I hope you don’t mind getting a little dirty.” He started 
walking toward the trees, chanting his own protection spells under his 
breath, when someone yelled his name. 

Spinning around, his heart seized in his chest and the air burst 

from his lungs in a strangled moan. Boston jogged toward him with 
Aslan in his arms. Torren’s mate jerked and convulsed, his eyes 

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rolling back in his head as heartbreaking whimpers emanated from 
him. 

He couldn’t make his legs work, couldn’t see anything past the 

unbearable sight of his lover in such obvious pain. Before Boston 
reached him, the bonfire exploded, sending up twenty-foot flames that 
broke off and rained down, igniting a ring of fire, trapping them in its 
circle. 

It was happening again. Just like all the times before, they were 

destined to have their time together cut short. 

“Give us the Relegatis!” A hand fisted in Torren’s hair, jerking 

his head back on his shoulders so that the rain splattered over his 
face. “Give it to us or he dies.” The asshole gave him a meaningful 
look and tilted his head toward Aslan. 

Somewhere in the distance, Torren heard a baby cry. His baby. 

His son. One of the two reasons that Torren lived and breathed. The 
other reason was kneeling beside him, a steel blade pressed to his 
throat hard enough to nick the skin and draw blood. 

Rage and fury bubbled in his veins, but these witches were more 

powerful than him. Without his circle, he was helpless against them. 
His body was locked in place, held immobile by the invisible 
restraints of his captor’s bewitchment. 

Cutting his eyes to the side, he found Aslan staring back at him 

with despair written in the lines of his face. His eyes begged, pleaded 
for Torren to give these men what they wanted. Everything was 
written there, laid raw for Torren to see. Though the situation was 
bleak, Aslan still believed in him. He still had faith that Torren would 
save them. 

He had no idea where the Book of the Banished was, though. And 

even if he did, they would never allow them to live after he revealed 
the whereabouts. Unable to even move—weak, vulnerable, felled by 
an unworthy adversary—Torren could do nothing but watch as the 
life drained from Aslan’s eyes. 

Invincible 141 

 

He welcomed death. Welcomed the end. Without his mate, without 

his child, he had no joy, no sunlight, and no reason to draw his next 
breath. 

Shaking himself out of the depressing memory, Torren felt the 

moisture of one hot, salty tear as it trickled from the corner of his eye 
and off the tip off his nose. He growled as he wiped it away roughly. 
He would not be weak again. This time, he would fight to protect 
what belonged to him. This time, he would win. 

Suddenly, Boston was thrown off his feet, hurdling backward 

through the air with Aslan still clutched in his arms. He landed in a 
heap near the roaring fire, and Torren watched as his mate rolled 
across the grass and came to a stop several feet away. 

He’d taken only two running steps when a mountain of a man 

appeared out of nowhere, scooping Aslan up in his arms and turning 
to face Torren with a devious grin. “It’s over, Braddock. You’ve 
failed again.” 

His fear from moments before was overshadowed by a cold, dark 

rage, leaving him shaking from head to toe. Taking another measured 
step forward, he clenched his hands at his side, his gaze locked on the 
asshole, contemplating exactly how to end his worthless existence. 
“Put him down,” he ordered in a low, dangerous tone. 

“What will you do? You can’t stop me, just like you couldn’t stop 

my ancestors. Back off and maybe we’ll let you live this time.” 

All around him, Enforcers battled with the circle of witches, but 

Torren paid them no attention. The witches were outnumbered and 
even with their magic, they were no match for the Enforcers of 
Haven. Already he saw two on the ground, limp and unmoving. That 
left only three others, plus the fucker still holding his mate. 

“What do you want with him?” 
“I’m not stupid, Braddock. I know you’re more powerful than 

me.” He clutched Aslan closer, obviously aware that Torren wouldn’t 
do anything to risk harming his lover. “I want the Book of the 

142 Gabrielle 

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Banished, and I want the original circle dead. I’m going to need a 
little help to accomplish both.” 

“It doesn’t work that way.” Torren growled and took another step 

closer. “Only one soul can pass through the threshold.” 

“Yes, but if it’s the right one, he can bring back the others.” 
It was true. Torren’s own brother, Thane, had such an ability. 

Even if Aslan’s life wasn’t at stake, there was no way he could allow 
that to happen. “Put him down,” he repeated. 

The witch shook his head and began backing away toward the 

circle of fire. Torren watched as the flames parted, leaving a small 
gap just big enough for his enemy to escape through. Fortunately for 
Torren, the idiot hadn’t counted on the enormous white tiger that 
catapulted through the air, hitting him in the back and crumpling him 
to the ground. 

Once again, Aslan went rolling across the grass, still seizing as he 

curled in on himself. Damn, his baby was having a rough night. 

Rushing across the field, he skidded to a halt, throwing himself on 

the ground and wrapping Aslan up in his arms. His mate’s would-be 
kidnapper wasn’t a threat to them any longer, would never be a threat 
to anyone else. The big tiger—Xander—had seen to that, and Torren 
could only be grateful. 

There was still one battle left to win, and though it left his heart 

bleeding, it was one that Aslan would have to fight alone. “Aslan! 
Open your eyes. Fight for me, baby. You’re stronger than they are. 
You can do this.” 

 

Invincible 143 

 

 
 
 
 
 

Chapter Sixteen 

 
His entire body hurt like the ten shades of hell. The seizures 

continued to ride him hard, barrel rolling him beneath a wave of 
debilitating pain. His chest was on fire, burning hot like the blue 
flame within an inferno. His eyes, his temples, his skull—it all 
pounded like the bass blaring from a wall of speakers inside a techno 
club. 

Time and reality warped into something resembling a carnival fun 

house. Nothing was real, yet everything was real. Darkness pressed in 
on the edges of his vision, calling his name, reaching for him. The 
tendrils of peace tickled at his senses, luring him closer into a place 
where nothing could hurt him. 

Desperate to make the pain stop, Aslan followed the curling rings 

of fog that beckoned him into the unknown like a lover’s finger 
crooking invitingly, teasing him with the promise of sinful delights. 
Something held him back, something warm, solid, and unmovable. 
Though he tried to shrug off the hold, it wouldn’t relent, calling him 
back to where the pain seared through him like a nuclear blast. 

“Aslan! Open your eyes. Fight for me, baby. You’re stronger than 

they are. You can do this.” 

He knew that voice, responded to it by instinct. Struggling against 

the spasms that wracked his body, Aslan pried his eyelids back and 
stared up at the most beautiful angel he’d ever seen. A dark warrior 
angel, come to earth just for him. 

“That’s it, caro. Right here. Keep looking right here.” If Torren 

was afraid, he didn’t show it. His hands were rock steady as they 
moved over Aslan’s face, stroking his cheeks and down the sides of 

144 Gabrielle 

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his throat. His voice never wavered, never broke. As always, Torren 
was his rock. 

“No, you can’t trust him.” 
“Come with us. Let us take you away from the pain.” 
“Let us in.” 
“Let us in.” 
“Let us in.” 
Over and over the words chanted inside his head, almost lyrical in 

their rhythm and cadence. They called to him, coaxing him closer to 
the dark void once again. 

“No, damn it!” Torren shook him roughly. “It will not end this 

way. Not this time. Open your goddamn eyes and see me!” His mate’s 
mouth crashed down on his, his tongue plunged between his lips, and 
he stroked the inside of Aslan’s mouth, leaving no crevice 
unexplored. 

Hard, hungry, desperate, the kiss pushed away some of Aslan’s 

pain, replacing within him a new kind of scorching heat. “Torren,” he 
whimpered, clutching at his lover’s shirt, terrified of being dragged 
under again. 

“I’m right here. I’m always going to be right here.” Torren took 

his mouth again, demanding that Aslan respond to him as he claimed 
what was his. “I love you.” 

Those three little words that held the power of the world slammed 

into him like the first rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds after 
a violent storm. Something primal, instinctual, and almost savage rose 
up inside him, pushing a growl through his lips as he flipped their 
positions and pinned Torren beneath him on the ground. 

The voices in his head raged and screamed, thrashing about and 

throwing themselves at the cages he’d locked around his mind. Paying 
them no attention, Aslan attacked Torren’s clothes, stripping his lover 
with sure, quick fingers. “Can’t stop,” he warned. 

Luckily, Torren understood, because he whispered the same 

words he’d used the night before, though instead of stretching Aslan 

Invincible 145 

 

wide, Aslan plunged three fingers into the slicked and loosened hole 
of his mate’s ass. The muscles gripped him, sucked him in, and 
massaged his digits. 

Too far gone for even that bit of foreplay, Aslan pushed his jeans 

down his hips until his aching cock sprang free, the crown a deep 
purple, engorged, and dripping an extraordinary amount of pre-cum. 
Lining the tip up with Torren’s entrance, Aslan tried to beg 
forgiveness with his eyes as he slammed forward, seating himself in 
one jarring thrust. 

Torren’s back arched up off the ground, his cock leaked liberally 

against his abs, and the most magnificent cry of pleasure exploded 
from his lips and into the night. Around them the fires burned, people 
shouted, and the war waged on, but none of that mattered. It was 
background noise, a distant rumble that barely registered as Aslan’s 
entire world, his whole reason for being, centered to the point where 
his cock plunged into Torren’s hot, tight, willing body. 

He didn’t know what was happening to him or why he felt the 

absurd need to possess his mate, dominate him, own him, but the need 
was there, uncontrollable as he slammed into Torren hard enough to 
make his own teeth rattle. The ground trembled beneath him, thunder 
rolled overhead, and flames danced around them, the orange light 
flittering across his lover’s sweat-soaked skin, making him glow like 
some Egyptian sun god. 

As his climax rose over him like the swell of the ocean, words 

he’d heard only once before in a language he’d never spoken came 
spilling through his panting lips. “Datum gratis. Duo corda sicut 
unum. Obligo me ad vos. Offer totum, quod sum et pignus amoris mei 
aeterna.” 

The orgasm that tore through him left him blind and deaf, tired 

and feeble as a newborn kitten as he pumped ropes of seed into 
Torren’s convulsing channel. His mate roared out into the night, 
sticky streams of cum shooting from his cock to cover his chest, abs, 
and even his neck. 

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Falling forward, unable to hold himself up for even another 

moment, Aslan sighed when his lover caught him in his warm 
embrace. “I’ve got you,” Torren whispered into his hair. “I’ve got 
you, baby.” 

“What the hell just happened?” 
He could feel Torren’s lips stretch into a wide grin. “You finally 

accepted me as your mate. Even if you didn’t realize it, there was 
some part of yourself that you were holding back, too afraid to let 
yourself be loved. When you let go of that, accepted who we are and 
that we’re meant to be together, it kind of just exploded.” 

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He’d never forgive himself if he’d hurt 

Torren. 

“I have never experienced anything so amazing. And when you 

claimed me, holy fuck. It was like the sun exploded inside my chest.” 

Aslan chuckled breathlessly. “That’s exactly what I thought when 

you claimed me. What were those words I said? I know what they 
meant, but I don’t know the exact wording.” 

“Given freely. Two hearts as one. I bind myself to you. Offer all 

that I am and the pledge of my eternal love.” 

“That’s beautiful. I like that.” It was only then that he noticed the 

night around them was silent. Lifting his head from Torren’s naked 
shoulder, Aslan scanned the clearing, his hand going to his mouth 
when he noticed the multitude of fierce-looking animals, their pale 
coats glimmering in the moonlight. “Are they…” He trailed off when 
he noticed the two mangled bodies on the ground. “Who are they?” 

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” Stavion grimaced as he 

sauntered up to them, holding out a hand to pull Torren to his feet. 
“Two got away, two are dead, and two others are being escorted to a 
nice holding cell.” He looked Torren up and down, and then turned 
his gaze on Aslan. “Nice show by the way.” 

Aslan’s face went up in flames as he quickly stuffed his limp cock 

back into his jeans. “Torren, do something.” 

Invincible 147 

 

His lover threw his head back and laughed, the sound coming 

straight from his belly. “You started this, caro.” He relented, 
however, picking his pants up from the ground and pulling them on. 

“So, is it over?” 
“Hardly.” Torren’s smile fell from his handsome face. “They’ll 

regroup, maybe recruit more, and be back, but we bought some time 
to reinforce our defenses.” 

They had won this round, but there would be others. Aslan 

understood what Torren was trying to tell him, but he felt confident 
that as long as they stuck together they could face anything that came 
their way. “Let’s get Wren and go home.” 

 

* * * * 

 
“Thane is the only one who can pull Mikko out of Purgatory.” 

Torren scrubbed at his face, his eyes itching with sleep deprivation. 
He’d been awake for nearly twenty-eight hours, doing what he could 
to help ensure the welfare of Haven. Once they’d talked about 
security improvements—even adding several new Enforcers with 
Ridley’s announcement that he wanted to move some of his pack to 
Haven—the topic moved on to finding his brothers. 

He had an idea of where to look for Thane, but he was leery of 

speaking his suspicions to Stavion. The vampire was either going to 
be pissed or devastated. Torren wasn’t looking forward to either 
reaction. “From what Aslan tells me, the place he was held before he 
came here was close by, a short drive to be exact. I think that’s the 
best place to start looking for Thane.” 

“Did you say it was a vampire coven?” Raith asked. He looked 

haggard, slumping in his chair in the library of Stavion’s mansion. 
Torren worried about him, but had no idea how to help his brother 
yet. 

148 Gabrielle 

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Raith’s question made him realize that maybe he didn’t need to 

unload the information, but could possibly lead Stavion to the answer. 
“Yes, a vampire coven near here.” 

“The only coven that’s close by is the Snake River Coven.” 

Stavion shook his head, a frown on his face. Torren saw the exact 
moment that understanding hit him. Stavion’s head popped up from 
its bowed position, and his eyes bored into Torren’s. “No.” 

“I’m not saying it’s true, but it’s where we need to start.” Gods, he 

didn’t want to see the look of hurt and betrayal on his friend’s face. It 
hadn’t been that long since Stavion had been an Enforcer for the 
Snake River Coven before taking over the leadership role of Haven. 
“I’m sorry, Stavion.” 

Stavion held a hand up to halt him. “We’ll do what needs to be 

done. I trust you and I trust Aslan. So, Snake River is where we’ll 
start.” He pointed to two of his Enforcers. “Varik, Demos, you’ll 
leave tomorrow night.” 

“I’d like Lynk to go with them.” 
Stavion dipped his head. “Good idea.” 
A soft grunt drew his attention, and Torren smiled down at Aslan 

where the man curled in his lap, sleeping soundly against his chest. 
“He’s not going to have an easy life. The voices will always be with 
him.” 

“Then you teach him how to control them,” Jory said from 

Stavion’s side. “Give him something to fight for and a place to feel 
safe when it becomes too much.” 

“I’d give him the world if I could. He won’t be in this alone.” 
The library door opened, and Raven stepped inside, grinning from 

ear to ear with a bouncing little boy balanced on his hip. “Look what I 
found.” 

Aslan jerked awake at Wren’s laughter, rubbing at his eyes and 

moving off of Torren’s lap to sit upright, holding his arms out just in 
time to catch the little pixie as he sprinted to them. “Hey, you. Did 
you have a good nap?” 

Invincible 149 

 

Wren bobbed his head energetically. “Yep, but now I’m hungry. 

Can I have waffles?” 

“Yes!” Jory said enthusiastically. “I love waffles!” 
The room erupted into laughter at his outburst, and Torren decided 

that happy felt damn good. “Did you find out anything?” he asked 
Raven as the Enforcer moved farther into the room and perched on 
the arm of one of the sofas. 

“Yes.” He looked pointedly at Wren. “I’ll fill you in later, but let’s 

just say that it won’t be a problem. There is no one left to fight you 
for custody. Congratulations, man.” 

Torren had asked Raven to see what he could dig up on Wren’s 

biological family. He’d even given him permission to use whatever 
brand of interrogation he wanted on the werewolf alpha that had been 
holding Wren captive. If Torren understood him correctly, all of 
Wren’s family was dead, probably at the hands of that same alpha. 
He’d find out later what Raven had learned, but just then his heart 
was about to burst out of his chest. 

“Hey, little monster, come here.” He lifted Wren into his lap and 

looked him in the eye, hoping the boy would understand what he was 
about to ask. “Do you remember when you asked if you could stay 
with me and Aslan and your uncles?” 

Wren bobbed his little head, his hair flopping around in his face. 

Torren pushed the locks back and cradled his soft cheeks. “Do you 
want to be part of our family, Wren?” 

The child looked at him in confusion, but Aslan took his small 

hand and drew his attention. “What Torren is trying to ask you is if 
you’d like for him to be your daddy.” 

“And you?” Aslan nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

Wren looked like Santa Claus himself had walked into the room and 
dumped a whole sleigh full of toys at his feet. “Yes, yes, yes!” He 
squeezed Aslan around the neck and rocked back and forth. “I love 
you.” 

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“I love you, too.” Aslan closed his eyes tight and hugged Wren 

fiercely before letting him go, smiling so brightly that it almost hurt to 
look at him. 

Then Wren turned his attention on Torren, holding onto his neck 

as he buried his face in his throat. “Does Mr. Pokey get to stay, too?” 

Petting his silky curls, Torren smiled and kissed the top of Wren’s 

head. “Absolutely. And we’ll even get you that puppy.” 

Wren nodded, squeezing Torren a little tighter. “I love you, 

Daddy.” 

Torren doubted there was a dry eye in the room after that. The big, 

bad Enforcers coughed or cleared their throats, and all found 
something very interesting to look at that conveniently hid their faces. 
His own eyes flooded, making his vision blurry, but he didn’t care 
who saw them. 

He didn’t deserve them, not Wren or Aslan, but he would work 

every day to be worthy of their love. Holding his child—his child—in 
his arms, he curled his other hand around the back of Aslan’s neck 
and pulled him close to kiss his lips gently. “It’s always been you, and 
it always will be. I love you, Aslan.” 

His mate looked too choked up to get any words out, but that was 

okay. Torren saw it, felt it, every time Aslan looked at him, touched 
him, or sighed contentedly as he slept in Torren’s arms at night. Aslan 
was the sturdy one, the foundation that held up their relationship. 
Torren was a powerful witch, but he couldn’t hold a candle to the 
magic inside Aslan’s heart.  

Hard times waited for them, but they would face whatever came. 

Aslan had opened his heart, torn down his walls, and given him a 
family in return. Maybe he’d never trust anyone as much as he did 
Aslan, but maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be. He’d failed to 
keep his mate safe before because he’d refused to reach out for help. 

Looking at the men gathered around him, the men who had fought 

by his side to protect what mattered most to him, Torren knew he 
wouldn’t make the same mistake again.  

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Individually they were strong. 
Together…they were invincible.  

 

 

THE END 

 

WWW.GABRIELLEEVANS.COM 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

 
 
Gabrielle Evans grew up in a small town in southern Oklahoma. 

We are talking one red light that may or may not work depending on 
the day of the week. She married her high school sweetheart and the 
rest is pretty much history. They have two very active boys and one 
high-strung wiener dog that keeps her constantly on the go. For now, 
she parks her car in central Indiana, but who knows what tomorrow 
will bring.  

Gabrielle believes in love at first sight, falling hard and fast, 

taking chances, and grabbing your happy-ever-after with both hands. 
Most importantly, she believes that a great cup of coffee can cure 
anything. 

 
 

Also by Gabrielle Evans 

 

Everlasting Classic ManLove: Haven 1:  

Caution: Contents Under Pressure 

Everlasting Classic ManLove: Haven 2: Faith, Trust, and Stardust  

Everlasting Classic ManLove: Haven 3: Forgotten Sins 

Everlasting Classic ManLove: Haven 4: Back Roads 

 
 

For all other titles, please visit 

www.BookStrand.com/Gabrielle-Evans 

 

 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 

 

 
 
 

Siren Publishing, Inc. 

www.SirenPublishing.com