Tor Page 2

  The boy never moved.

  At least he was well trained.

  Uh-uh. No. Not going to do this. Marrack was out of his mind. Did he really think he could just toss another slave at Tor and that would be that? As if anyone could take Jin’s place.

  Tor strode over to the long punching bag hanging from the ceiling in one corner of his quarters, each step gaining momentum, until he closed on it, jumped into the air, and delivered a hard punch. The bag rocked backward, hitting the wall.

  Didn’t Marrack know how much he loved Jin? He punched with his left. He fucking loved him. Another right punch. Jin wasn’t just a fuck toy; he’d been a mate. The bag rocked again, swinging wildly. A roundhouse kick. Marrack had to know when Jin died, it ripped him apart. A final right punch, and Tor hung on the bag, stopping its motion. Marrack had to know he was still torn and bleeding.

  Tor closed his eyes and exhaled, then pushed off the bag, his huge fists barely registering the workout. His jaw tightened as the urge to pummel something waned, and he slipped as he always did into despair.

  Hell, it’d taken three weeks before he’d even shifted back to human form to help himself heal. He’d wanted to die, but when Tor realized Marrack wasn’t going to let him, that he’d just keep him alive until he gave in and shifted, he did just that—gave up.

  He glared at Marrack’s pretty slave boy. Fuck him. Fuck Marrack.

  Tor stalked to his bed and lay down. His chest hurt, the lung still ached—still fought against letting all the air Tor needed inside.

  He exhaled and slumped into the mattress he’d once shared with Jin. He looked down the length of his body and assessed it with a critical eye. He’d lost muscle mass, and without daily workouts, a better diet, and sparring with the others, his tone and definition had fallen into less than prime condition.

  Above all that, he’d lost the desire to fight.

  His cock lay across his thigh. Even slack it impressed, but it had lost something too. It grieved. Well, if cocks could grieve, his surely did.

  Tor closed his eyes. He was so fucking tired of his life.

  Why hadn’t Marrack let him die?

  Chapter Three

  Sky peeked from under his brow at the big were stretched out on the bed, sleeping. The man was massive. Sky’s knees shook. The trainers had told the boys in his harem how large the werewolves were, but he’d never seen anyone like this.

  And the display of all that power unleashed on the poor punching bag? He’d flinched with each blow, knowing if that fury were ever turned on him, he wouldn’t survive it.

  His chains tinkled, the silver singing as the trembling moved up his body. This man could kill him easily, with just one blow.

  “Get him to fight, boy, and you’ll win your freedom. I need him back in the cage, and to do that, he has to claim you. Do what they trained you for, boy.” His new owner’s voice whispered into Sky’s ear. It didn’t help to calm his fear—not one bit.

  He didn’t know much, being a slave and only eighteen, but he knew this werewolf didn’t like him—not one bit.

  “Tor is a champion, and you should be honored to be his mate,” Marrack had told him.

  However, it looked as if Tor didn’t want him.

  What would happen to him now? Sky licked his lips, his mouth going dry. He’d been standing still for what felt like hours. The muscles in his shoulders and legs screamed. If he could just risk moving. A quick squat maybe, but he was too afraid to draw attention to himself.

  If Tor hated him, what would the were do if he broke stance?

  Sky didn’t want to be beaten. In his entire life as a slave, he’d only been whipped once after disobeying an order. At twelve, he’d been moved up to the sex slave harem and put into training, and swore he’d never be beaten again. He’d obeyed. Every command, every order, every “Down on your knees,” every “Suck this cock.” Everything.

  Marrack had paid a lot of money for him, and Sky knew it. If he failed to get the were back into the cage, he’d surely be sold again and lose his only chance at freedom.

  He glanced at Tor, then looked away.

  Maybe being sold off wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe freedom was overrated.

  Sky swallowed.

  He looked again, his gaze drawn back to the man. Tor had massive arms and thighs, well-defined abs and chest with the circular emblem of the WereWolf Fight League tattooed over his heart, Tor’s slave number beneath it. A pattern of blond hair spread in a dense patch across the center of his chest, trailing down his belly to the thatch nestling his long, thick uncut cock. Even at rest it was massive. Tor wore his golden hair long, past his shoulders, with small braids at his temples strung with silver and blue glass beads, clear symbols of his Norse bloodlines.

  Sky shivered. The only reason Marrack had paid so much for Sky was because he was a virgin. Untried sex slaves sold at a premium on the slave market, and everyone knew it. His harem’s owner had taken extra care to ensure Sky had never been penetrated, not even by a toy.

  He’d sucked cock, jerked cock, licked and rubbed, had all of it done to him, but he’d never been breached.

  If his first time was going to be with this were, Sky wanted to die right now. Was freedom worth it? Surely, Tor’s huge cock would rip Sky open. He’d heard the stories from the other boys about cruel and rough owners who only cared for themselves, and about the broken and bloodied bodies of those used-up boys thrown onto the dead pile to be disposed of like garbage.

  Sky’s legs gave out, and he went to his knees onto the floor. He wanted to cry, but it would serve no purpose. He slumped, relieving his muscles, rolling his shoulders as pain pricked like a thousand pins across his skin. He leaned forward in mating position, put his hands on the ground, his head down, and straightened his legs. It pushed his ass into the air at the perfect height for being entered. He’d practiced it alone while the other boys got to fuck, one standing behind the other.

  They got to sleep together in groups of warm bodies, holding each other, finding comfort and caring. Sky had been kept in his own cell. Maybe it had been for the best. He’d seen the other boys crying as one of them had been sold, being torn from their arms to go to an owner.

  No one had cried for Sky. No one had reached for him, held him tight. No one’s hands had to be pried off, or had to be beaten to let him go.

  The other boys would wake up this morning, go to breakfast, and he just wouldn’t be there. He wondered if anyone would miss him or even ask about him.

  Of course not. He hadn’t belonged, until now. Only he belonged to a werewolf who didn’t want him. He sighed, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and got to his feet before the man woke up and found him. He put his hands behind his back and lowered his head to stare at the floor.

  How much longer would the man sleep?

  How much longer before he woke up and threw Sky out?

  Or fucked him and killed him?

  Sky sniffed. This was stupid. If he didn’t do something, the were would surely refuse him. Then Marrack would beat him. And probably fuck him. And sell Sky. And he’d never be free.

  »»•««

  Tor snorted and woke up. He’d fallen asleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then scratched his balls. Across the room the boy stood in slave position.

  “Fuck, are you still here?” He got up and strode over to the slave Marrack had left for him. He’d forgotten all about the boy.

  “Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.

  Tor looked him up and down. The top of his head came to the middle of Tor’s chest. His pale skin was smooth, not a welt or scar on him other than the small slave tattoo on his right chest, above a perfect copper nipple. The scent of perfumed oil someone had rubbed into the boy’s skin filled the air. This boy had been pampered. This boy was special. Tor knew it as well as he knew his fighting stats.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Sky.” He kept his gaze on the floor.

  “Look at me, Sky.” Tor
didn’t have patience with this. He didn’t want a new boy. He didn’t need one.

  Sky raised his head and looked up and up and up into Tor’s face.

  Crystal blue eyes, the exact color of the sky in the picture books and surrounded by thick black lashes rimmed in smoky kohl, met his gaze, sucking the breath from Tor’s lungs. Pouting pink lips. A perfect nose. High cheekbones.

  He was beautiful. Simply beautiful. How much had Marrack paid for him? A small fortune, Tor bet. The last of his owner’s money had probably gone to buy this boy for him.

  Tor walked around him. A round ass sat high on well-formed thighs, and those sweet little pads of flesh dimples on either side of his hips begged to be touched. His cockhead, a rosy pink, peeked from his sheath, and his balls were hairless. He’d had all the hair on his body, except for his head, removed also. Someone had spent a lot of money on this boy.

  And now he’s yours.

  Oh hell, no. Not mine. He belongs to Marrack, not to me.

  Until Tor claimed him, that is. Marrack would still own the boy, but he’d belong to Tor. He’d be Tor’s responsibility to feed, to train, to protect in the cage.

  Tor heard the barest tinkling as a shiver ran through the boy. Had he been standing all this time? Fuck.

  Tor sighed. “Sit down, boy.” He waved to the couch.

  Sky looked at him, nodded, then went to the couch and sat on the edge of the seat, knees together, feet crossed at the ankles, back straight, as if afraid to fully occupy it.

  “Look, I don’t want a new boy. Get it?”

  Sky nodded.

  “Marrack needs to take you back to the slave market and get his money back.”

  Sky stared at him, then lowered his gaze to his hands clasped on his lap. One thumb picked at another. When he looked up, tears stood in his eyes.

  Fuck. Not fucking tears.

  Tor growled and rubbed his face. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you. I’m sure you’re a great sex slave. Really.” How the hell did he explain this? How did he tell Sky about Jin? About how he wasn’t ready to move on? Not yet and maybe never?

  “I lost my mate six months ago.” There, enough said.

  “I’m sorry.” The boy’s face morphed from still and somber to…caring and sad.

  Tor shrugged. Okay, the kid was sweet. And beautiful. But so were a lot of boys. That didn’t mean Tor was ready for a new mate. And being the mate of a werewolf took someone special. Everyone knew that.

  “Have you ever seen a werewolf fight?” Tor asked.

  Sky shook his head.

  “Do you know the rules?” Tor crossed his arms.

  “There are no rules. Two weres, a challenger and a defender, are locked in a cage to fight for possession of the defender’s mate,” Sky said.

  “That all?”

  “Well, no weapons, of course,” Sky added, looking pleased he’d gotten the answer.

  Tor nodded. “And what happens if the defending were loses?” Tor asked.

  Sky looked away. “The mate is taken by the winner,” he whispered.

  “In the cage. Right then. In front of the crowd and on the televised shows,” Tor finished explaining, not glossing over the brutality of it.

  Sky nodded.

  “I don’t know what Marrack told you. But just so you know, I lost my last fight. The challenger took my mate and killed him.”

  Sky’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard, and his mouth formed a perfect O.

  Tor smirked. “Still want to be my mate?” He’d see if the boy had what it took to stand in the cage as a werewolf’s mate.

  The boy chewed his lip for a moment, then said, “I don’t want to be sold again.”

  Okay, at least the kid knew the score. But it didn’t mean he was special. That he could be of any use in the cage. That he could satisfy Tor’s needs.

  That Tor would ever love him.

  Chapter Four

  Sky stared at the big man. He’d lost? He’d fucking lost and his mate had been killed? Panic took Sky’s balls in a tight grip. And he’d just told the man he wanted to stay.

  Had he lost his mind?

  Freedom. It’s your only way out.

  If he were free, he could be whoever he wanted to be, go wherever he wanted, be with whomever he wanted, and he’d never have to be anyone’s fuck toy. He could have his own toy if he wanted.

  He’d take his chances there, then. The were didn’t look so set on him leaving now. He looked as if he was thinking again about keeping Sky. If that was the case, then he’d better get to work.

  The faster the werewolf claimed him, the faster he’d get in the ring and fight and the faster Sky would earn his freedom.

  Tor narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “What’s so special about you, boy?” He unhooked the leash from the chain stretching between the boy’s nipples and let it fall to the floor.

  Sky straightened. He licked his lips, making a slow pass like they’d been taught. “I’m a virgin.”

  The were’s mouth dropped open.

  Ha! Sky had him hooked. Everyone loved virgins.

  “Oh fuck, no.” The were growled. “Marrack! You fucker! I’m going to kill you,” he shouted at the ceiling. Then he paced the length of the room, back and forth, muttering and running his hands through the gorgeous mane of golden hair falling over his shoulders.

  He spun and pointed to Sky. “You! I can’t deal with you right now.”

  Sky looked around. “What?”

  Tor closed his eyes. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Sky stood. He looked around the room, searching for a mat to lie on, but the floor was bare. He turned to Tor, eyebrows raised, afraid to ask.

  “Well, the bed, damn it!” Tor flung out his arm and pointed to his bed, dismissing Sky.

  “Yes, master.”

  “I’m not your master,” the were barked.

  Sky nodded and walked over to it, silver chains tinkling like music. He’d never slept in so fine a bed, only a thin mat on the floor of his cell at the harem. He touched the cover; he’d never felt anything so soft, except the material of his slippers. Glancing back over his shoulder at Tor, he swallowed, put his knee onto the bed, and waited for Tor to stop him.

  “Get in and move over. I sleep on the left side.”

  Sky leaped in, bounced, then lay on top of the soft covers, grinning.

  “Under the covers unless you want to freeze your ass off. They shut off the heat after midnight, and it doesn’t come on until six in the morning.”

  Sky nodded and wiggled his way under the sheets and blanket and to the other side of the bed. His body had never felt such a soft mat. He floated on it, as if in a large tub of water. And the warmth? It was like none he’d ever felt. He’d never be cold there.

  He grinned and pulled the cover up to his chin.

  Tor went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and took out some food. Sky sniffed. Oh, it smelled good. Maybe if he were lucky, he’d get whatever the were didn’t eat.

  He watched as Tor piled food onto a plate. The mound grew as he added more and more. Fruit. Slices of meat. Bread. Sky’s mouth watered, and his stomach rumbled.

  Tor looked up and caught him staring.

  Sky looked away and dived under the covers.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Sky’s breath caught. He peeked out of the cover. “Yes, ma—” At Tor’s warning glare, he stopped talking.

  The big man came over, carrying the plate and setting it on the table next to the bed. He climbed onto the bed, folded his feet under him, and brought the plate to his lap.

  “Sit up, Sky.”

  Sky couldn’t deny the command in Tor’s voice. Obedience had been trained into him. He pushed up until the covers exposed his nipple chain.

  Tor picked up a red apple and took a bite, the crisp sound teasing Sky’s ears. The juice spilled over Tor’s lips, and Sky watched it trickle down his chin. He’d give anything just to taste it, but he didn’t dare to
say or move, not until given permission.

  Tor offered the fruit to him.

  “For me?”

  Tor nodded. “All for you.”

  Sky took the apple and bit into it. So delicious. The juice ran down his chin, and he wiped it with his arm. He moaned and licked his lips.

  Tor chuckled and put the plate of food on the bed next to Sky.

  “Eat what you want, Sky.” He stood.

  “Really?” Sky couldn’t believe it. All this food for just one meal? He looked up at Tor, watching him. Maybe it was a test. If he ate too much, he might not get any food tomorrow.

  Sky picked out some of the food and pushed the plate away. “I just want these.”

  He placed his selections on his lap. Tor retrieved the plate, then sat at a table with two chairs and ate what was left while Sky ate his cache, savoring each delicious bite.

  Sky’s belly had never been so full. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Maybe he’d like it there. Maybe he’d like the big blond werewolf.

  The lights in the quarters dimmed three times.

  “Sleep time.” Tor stood and stretched. He put the plate into the sink, washed it, then dried it with a towel. He took out a bottle of water and brought it to the bed. “Here, have a drink.”

  Sky drank. The water was cold and clean tasting. “Werewolves get treated better than slaves.” He handed it back to Tor.

  “Yeah. Like kings.” Tor snorted as if it was a joke, but Sky thought this must be how kings lived.

  Tor pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.

  The lights went out. One light above the door to the quarters stayed on, casting shadows, but it was enough to see the room. Sky looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

  Tor lay next to him, his body throwing off heat and scent across the small distance between them. Sky inhaled, letting the musky odor of the were enter his nose and fill his lungs. His cock rose just from smelling the man. Would Tor take him tonight?