“Which demon?”
“I’m going to show you HavoK.” Torren pulled her tighter against him. “And then I’m going to ask you not to run.”
Chapter Eight
The old sawmill looked downright creepy at night.
Torren slid his hand over her thigh as he eased his black Camaro into a dirt parking lot. His headlights arced across the front of the old, dilapidated building. The rusted sign on the front read Foxburg Mill, but someone had marked that out with spray paint and written HavoK. A little skull was painted beside it, similar to the logo on the T-shirt he was wearing right now.
“Did you do that?” she asked, pointing to the sign as he pulled to a stop.
“Nope. Vyr did. And Nox drew the dick.”
She squinted and, yep, there was a little cherry-red penis spray-painted underneath the skull. She giggled. Of course, Nox did that. “Can I ask you something?”
Torren squeezed her leg comfortingly and rolled his head on the rest to look at her. His eyes glowed green, and he smelled only of silverback, nothing like a man. But he was still here in his human skin, and he didn’t look worried about Changing in his car. “Shoot.”
“I can’t get this out of my head. Nevada…when I saw her at Vyr’s mansion, she was so different from the mouse I talked to in the library. Why?”
“Because she’s ours, and we’re hers,” he answered simply.
It gave her chills. She would do just about anything to have something like that. To not feel like this iceberg out in the middle of a frigid sea, surviving on her own. “I like your crew.”
“They’re a disaster. Worst crew in the world. We’re all fuck-ups.”
“But for someone looking in from the outside? Whatever you doing? It works. Maybe you’re fuck-ups individually, but together? You’ve got the biggest, baddest alpha in the entire world. And there are only three of you propping him up—you, Nox, and Nevada. Vyr is dangerous, but you live with him like you aren’t afraid of his fire. You speak to him like you aren’t afraid of him being a man-eater. You went after him yesterday, for me, like you weren’t afraid of his wrath at all.” She intertwined her fingers with his. “I think the Red Dragon needs that. I think he needs you guys to keep him steady.”
Torren cut the engine. “When I was a kid, my dad took me to Damon Daye’s mansion. He’d summoned me. Vyr was lonely and acting out, and none of the other kids could handle his dragon. He couldn’t control his Changes, and he—burned—everything. And everyone. Anyone who got in the path of his fire got hurt, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He was seven when I was brought in. Damon had been watching me. He saw how dominant I was, saw me fighting my way through school, saw me loyal to no one, but yearning to be part of something. Beaston, this seer in the Gray Backs, told Damon to put me in the path of Vyr’s fire and watch what happened. We played for two days before I saw the Red dragon. He was much smaller. Baby dragon. I was an adolescent gorilla but big for my age. He burned me one time. Grazed my arm with his fire, and I charged. I was pissed, but more than that, I was worried because I’d seen his eyes when he blasted that stream of fire at me. He didn’t want to do it. I could see him trying to stop himself. I jumped into the air and, with my arms around his wings, slammed us both back down to earth. And while he struggled and clicked his firestarter like he would light me up again, I talked in my gorilla form for the first time. It was out of desperation. I was a kid, but I wanted to save us both. I screamed at him to, ‘Stop or you’ll hurt me! You’ll hurt me, and I’ll never be your friend again. I won’t be your friend, Vyr. I won’t!’ And he swallowed that fire. It hurt him, but he swallowed it and went still. And since then, he hasn’t ever burned me. Oh, he’ll light everyone else up, but not me. He’s dangerous and out of control, but I’m his keeper. He’s gonna mess up someday. He’s gonna mess up in a way he can’t come back from, and he’ll take me with him. I accepted that the day I stopped him from burning me. Age seven, and I pledged fealty to the Red Dragon. Dragons tend to get loyal to someone. Damon has Mason. They become loyal to a friend until they find a mate. Seven years old, and he picked me as his friend, and I picked him back. We’re both going to Hell, Candace. Don’t think we’re salvageable because we aren’t. Nox isn’t either. We’re all going to Hell, but we’re going together. You like the crew, but we’re on a fast train headed for fire. It scares me to reach out and pull you onto it. You would be better off picking anyone else to be around.”
“Who else would match me?” she asked quietly. “Who, Torren? I hopped that train way before I met you. Hell doesn’t scare me anymore.”
A green Mustang parked beside them, and Torren blew out a sharp breath. “We’ll see about that.”
“Who is that?” she asked, confused.
“That’s my fight. HavoK has to do this. If he fights regularly, he lets me keep a little bit of control. I’m light on cash, so lately I’ve been setting up fights for money. Wait there,” he murmured as he pushed open his door.
She thought he wanted to conduct the business part of this fight without her, but he shocked her when he ignored the two giants getting out of the Mustang and opened her door instead.
“You just opened my door for me,” she said low, shocked to her bones.
“You’re a queen, Candace. Never think you’re anything less.” Those words were beautiful coming from a man like Torren. He stood there, tall and strong, his calloused, tattooed hand held out for her, his blazing inhuman eyes the color of glowing moss, his jaw clenched, and his face stern as if he was already focused on this fight. He was about to get hurt, but he was making sure she didn’t slip on her way out of his car.
And for the first time in maybe ever, out in the dirty parking lot of a fight shack, she actually felt like a queen—because of Torren.
When she slipped her hand against his, there was that sharp pain in her chest again. The one that kept happening. The one that had happened when she told him about her dad earlier in the private room and he’d pulled her against him and made her feel instantly better. Sharp pain in her chest, then a numbing sensation. Torren was a drug, and she had a feeling this was the moment. She could quit this drug now, or give into the addiction and fall head first into the fire with Torren.
Quit or stay.
Quit or stay.
Quit and avoid the Hell he was headed for, or stay and dig her heels in and get loyal, have his back no matter what, watch him get hurt, watch him fight, watch him struggle with his animal, watch his brokenness, watch him be the keeper of the Red Dragon, watch the consequences of his fealty.
Chills rippling up her arm, she gripped his hand and allowed him to pull her out of his car.
She wasn’t some fair-weather friend, and she sure as hell wasn’t a runner.
Candace was staying.