Page 28 of Tortured Soul (Soulless #1)

Lola

I t was quiet. Peaceful. I was enveloped in warmth but not suffocating from the usual heat that had been plaguing me since I arrived in this damned state.

My body was more relaxed than it’s been for a very long time, and I could feel my energy and power tickling under my skin the way it did when my well was full.

A content sigh escaped my lips as I kept my eyes closed and snuggled my face against the pill— no , not a pillow. It was too hard to be one.

But it was so soft too. And that smell…warm cinnamon. A scent that grew more and more familiar in the last couple of days. Weeks . A scent that woke some long buried instinct in my brain and core.

I took a deep inhale and shifted on the surface I was laying on, moaning softly from the satisfaction of my body and mind feeling so rested and calm.

Then the surface shook under me.

Shook like it laughed but tried to keep quiet.

My eyes snapped open and I lifted my head, only for my eyes to meet Arc’s mischievous ones.

This was it. I was going to die from embarrassment here and now. I’ve been laying on top of him, straddling his body and rubbing my face against his chest.

My pitiful attempt to flee was denied by both his arms coming to circle my waist, forming a band of steel around me.

“What, no good morning before you start to freak out and try to escape?”

I pushed against his chest, unsuccessful in trying to break through his hold.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” I gritted out, straining.

“I’m pretty sure this touch is still not inappropriate.”

Turning my head to the side, I could see one of his hands in a tight fist, effectively not touching me. I was guessing the other one was in the same position.

“Words are important when you make a binding promise,” he said, sliding his nose against my cheek. “You should pay more attention.”

I groaned, but this time, when I pushed myself away from him, he let me.

Only to roll us over and settle between my legs.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes widened in shock, staring at his playful ones as my hands went instinctively on his biceps.

“How is that not inappropriate?”

“You look good, powered by my energy,” he said, ignoring my remark and inching closer to my face. “And wearing my shirt. I’m still upset about your lack of communication, though.”

My throat bobbed.

“Are you going to blackmail another kiss from me?” I asked, searching his eyes. “ That would be inappropriate.”

What a hypocrite I was. To be honest with myself, I kinda wanted to feel his lips on mine again. Was it his strategy? To get me hooked on his soft lips and demanding tongue? Because, unfortunately for my sanity, it was fucking working.

“I’m really upset, so I’m not sure a kiss will be enough.”

My mouth went dry. My palms clammy.

Not that I wasn’t completely aroused at the thought of riding this man to my death, but the thought of him trying to blackmail something else out of me made the unease rise inside me.

“ Really inappro—”

“A date,” he said, dropping a small kiss on the corner of my lips. His hands were inches from my head, supporting his weight over me. “I want us to go on a date. Today. Just you and I. And really talk. Ask all the questions we might have about each other and answer truthfully.”

“A…date?” My lips were parted, outrage leaving place to confusion.

He nodded, both eager and anxious.

It was strange seeing a man like him looking like that. When we first met, he felt obnoxious. Short tempered. Confident.

The man hovering above me was more…complex. Vulnerable.

“A date,” I repeated again. “Like— ”

“Having a drink, or a meal. Something simple, but where we could—”

“Talk, I heard.”

“Yeah.”

We both remained still, unmoving in this suggestive position.

Why was I tempted to bring his lips against mine and hook my legs around his hips? Was it because it was his energy fueling my power?

There was nothing that could go wrong with a simple date, right? Outside? In a public space? If we argued, we would have to stay quiet and calm. If things were heating up in another way, we would have to stay…decent.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

His small smile turned to a grin, exposing his perfectly aligned teeth and sharper canines. Right , Archangel mother. Divine origins. They were known to enjoy a little blood, now and then.

Teeth that Dimitri also had. He never talked about his father. I knew they had once been close, but that he disappeared a little over fifteen hundred years ago. That whole thing was one of the reasons Dimitri and I had parted ways…

“I’ll go and make breakfast,” Arc said, kissing my cheek one more time. “You should shower.”

“Do I stink or something?” Rude , I thought, smelling the T-shirt I’d slept in.

He stood up and turned to the dresser, giving me his back.

“You smell like arousal and me. That mix has been driving me insane all night, and I’d rather not spend my day with a hard-on after having one for the most part of the last few hours.”

My dress was ruined. Covered in Carter’s golden blood. Good thing I’d created it with my power and not bought it, or I would have been pissed. With a snap of my finger, it turned into red particles before disappearing from the room.

Naked, dry, and feeling rejuvenated from the shower I had, I contemplated my dressing options.

My power was full. I could create some clothes without having to worry about being too weak to defend myself, shall the need arise.

But Arc’s T-shirt was still there. Soft, comfy, and smelling like Heaven and Hell had teamed up to seduce me. Why he felt like he had to provide me with a shirt when I could have created anything to sleep in was a question for another time.

But now, I felt like playing a little.

How was it that he was always the one having his fun fooling around with my confusing emotions when I was supposed to be the temptress here?

I slipped the T-shirt on with determination.

My gaze landed on the black lacy underwear—the only piece of real clothing that I wore for the party—before shrugging and throwing it on his pillow.

Somehow, I felt like he’d know if I was bare under his clothes, which would make torturing him even sweeter.

I strode out of the room and down the stairs, following the smell of coffee and bacon.

I wasn’t the prey anymore. If he was going to blackmail kisses out of me, playing with words to his advantage and taunt me while wearing only tight boxers during arguments, two could play this game.

I might have been a bad Succubus, yes, but I could still be a temptress when I needed to be. I had the better hand here. I —

Froze. Like a damn idiot.

How did I forget that Dimitri was also here?

Both of them were giants seated at the kitchen island. Both of their gazes had lifted and were stuck on my form. Both of their hands frozen in mid-air, cup of coffee or fork halfway between the table and their faces.

The red swirled in Dimitri’s eyes before he brought the drink to his lips with a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. Arc’s pupils were so wide that the blue of his eye was only a thin band.

Own it .

I squared my shoulders and walked past him toward the espresso machine. Reaching Dimitri, I held a yelp as he snagged me by the waist and hoisted me up to sit on his lap.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, lifting a playful brow.

My throat bobbed. “To get a coff—”

His hand trailed up my thigh, fingers featherlight against my skin, while his other one pushed a full cup in front of me.

“You wound me, lille fugl . When have I not prepared your coffee for you in all the mornings we’ve spent together?”

The hair rose on all of my body at the Danish words. Dimitri grinned, well aware of the impact the nickname had on me.

“I can make my own coffee, you know?”

“I like doing it for you,” he said, picking a piece of scrambled eggs and bacon from his plate before bringing the fork to my lips. “Did you sleep well?”

I nodded. He didn’t move the fork away, waiting for me to open my mouth with an expectant look. I rolled my eyes but obliged, catching Arc’s intense gaze. Dimitri smiled in satisfaction, kissing my temple. Was he trying to get a rise out of him?

“So, you were going to tell me about that binding promise you two made,” he said to Arc.

Great . I groaned and took the fork from his hand, helping myself to his food.

“She was being stubborn and putting herself in danger on a daily basis,” Arc answered casually, finally dropping his eyes away from us to his plate. “Refusing to refuel her already low and rapidly depleting energy.”

“I didn’t refuse to—”

“That measly encounter with the soldier outside the camp doesn’t count.”

“It does!” I gritted. That bastard was ratting me out.

Arc shook his head, releasing a long exhale, his eyes closed.

“You said so yourself. You barely got enough to survive for a week and I doubt you used your shifting power more than a couple of times during that period. When Carter and I found you, you were this close to going dormant.” He showed his hand, a barely visible space between his thumb and forefinger. Drama queen …

My head was sharply turned to the side from Dimitri’s sudden hold on my chin. “Is that true?” he asked, a strange edge to his voice and his brows pulled down in a frown.

“He’s over-selling it. It was not—”

“It was,” Arc interrupted me, his tone harsh. “Her pheromones could be scented from miles away, and she was being attacked by a demon, almost too weak to fight back.”

Dimitri’s eyes started to swirl angrily, the depiction of what had happened probably fueling his madness. He knew that I’d been acting this way for decades. Centuries. He usually had a lot to say on the matter, but for some reason, decided to stay quiet right now.

“Where’s that demon now?” he asked slowly, his tone holding something deadly.

“Taken care of,” Arc answered, his eyes boring into my Nephilim.