he sought pleasure. He didn’t relent, couldn’t. I watched him fuck as a beast possessed. The need to seek the hunger’s edge driving him to madness as her moans turned to whimpers and then cries of pain instead of the pleasure he’d wanted to give her. Unsatisfied, Torrin pumped his hips a few more times and started moving slower, easing the pain to bring her pleasure.
Bodies could break.
Minds could close down.
I could feel what Torrin was feeling and glimpsed his inner turmoil through brief flashes of his memories. He stopped seeking bedmates when the need to fuck became primal, and he hurt those who thought to take pleasure with him. He started allowing another male to feed them pleasure while Torrin gave them pain. That way, they never knew Torrin was delivering pain as he sated his hunger on their bodies.
He made them imagine it was an incredible pleasure they felt, and it worked. He found release with them. Lately, though, it too had become numb and muted over the last fifty years. He turned, staring out the window where the darkness filled the kingdom, before looking down at the woman, who stared like an entangled animal snared in a trap.
Rolling off of her, Torrin moved toward the table, dick covered in her juices and still fucking hard enough to wield as a blade. My body shuddered, listening to her retrieving her things and rushing from the room in fear.
Exhaling, he placed his hands onto the ancient wooden table in the bedroom and poured over maps marked with locations, showing information regarding the library.
“Get the fuck out of my head, bitch!” Torrin snarled angrily.
He ejected me from his memories and grabbed my throat as a strangled cry expelled from my lips. Torrin slammed my head against the wall, and darkness washed over me. My body slumped into powerful arms that caught and lifted me.
Chapter Three
The sound of flames crackling against wood woke me from a pain-filled sleep. I whimpered, trying to place my hands onto my head, only to find them tied to the arms of the chair. My eyes glared down at my naked thighs, slowly moving to the rope wrapped around my knees, wrist, and leading up to my throat. I gasped, leaning forward, and my legs parted. I placed my head down, studying the way my body moved.
Frowning, I glared at the ropes, noting the thick knots that wouldn’t allow me to escape. I moved my hands, and my knees rose higher while something behind me squeaked as if I were on a pulley system. My brows furrowed as my attention swung to where I sensed Torrin’s presence.
Torrin, Head of the Guard, the dark warlord of the army that served King Aragon, reclined on the bed, silently observing me while I took in how helpless I was. I swallowed past the pain in my head, staring at the sleek, toned muscles on display.
His arms were sprawled behind his head, folded, while an impassive look held my stare. He was all toned muscles and dark tattoos that drew the eye to them, keeping them prisoner while I tried to discern what the inked text said or meant.
“What kind of shit is this?” I whispered past the dryness in my mouth. How long had I slept? Groggy from pain and from endless days of riding to reach this village, I dropped my head back. Torrin pulled on the rope, forcing my legs open, leaving me in a sinful position as I snapped my head upright, glaring at him murderously. “I’m going to enjoy cutting you up into tiny pieces and eating you.”
“You talk too much about murdering people for something so weak,” he grunted, moving to sit up, which caused his muscles to ripple and bunch tightly at his abdomen. My eyes slid over the masculine form, drinking in the sight of the warlord who had seen more wars than I could count.
I’d heard of Torrin, of his mercilessness in battle and the coldness he exuded toward his enemies. If this asshole had wanted me dead, I’d be dead already, and we both knew it. He was keeping me alive for something more than dragging me to his king’s feet and dropping me there.
“How did you get into my head?” he asked, standing up to move closer to the chair. I slowly adjusted my eyes, yet I could still not take him in without becoming a puppet as he neared where I sat.
I’d been knocked out when the moon-sight