Page 11 of A Harmony of Procellarum

“It’s just … what I like.” My heart pounds at the knowledge that he and Tiny are speaking and about me. “So you see her? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, Sval,” he huffs. “I told you, she’s not there to be harmed.” Then I can feel the smirk coating his lips rather than see it. “Unless I do it.”

I react to his words with little thought as I grab him around the throat and slam his back against the brick with a growl. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Torrent,” I hiss into his face. “If so much as a hair is out of place on her pretty little head, I will kill you.”

“There it is,” he coos as his hands slip around my waist to drag me in closer, aligning our groins. “There’s the love you have for her. There’s no denying it now, Sval. You want the stripper bitch more than you ever wanted me.”

“You know that’s not true,” I moan as his expert hands push into the waistband of my pants, making me grow hard against him. “You and I have something I cannot compare to anything else.”

“Prove it,” he breathes against my ear, that tongue of his flicking the lobe. “Forget about her. Be with me.” He pumps his cock into mine and I nearly explode in my pants. “Tell everyone it’s me you love.”

My lips find his as if the space between us is a well-worn path, one my mind has mapped to last in my memory forever. Every inch of my body knows every inch of his, and when we touch like this, there’s no denying why we bear the marks. He was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be his. His mouth opens under mine, permitting me entrance into his warmth, giving me a taste of what it feels like to be home. He’s the only home I’ve ever known.

But too soon it’s over and he’s pushing me away … always pushing me away. “I need to get some shit done today,” he tells me, like he didn’t just have his tongue down my throat.

“What stuff?” I ask, watching as he walks away. “Torrent, I need you to release Tiny.”

He stops at the end of the alley, the sunlight creating a halo around his body as he stands stock-still. “She was never mine to release. I don’t have that authority.”

Then he does something that shocks me to my core. He pulls the Vanquisher’s mask out from inside his trench, the metal gleaming in the last of the sun’s rays as his fingers tighten around it.

Before I can say a single word, he’s gone from my sight, leaving me with a chill I know will coat my insides forever.

Torrent James is the new Vanquisher.

Loving Beginnings Orphanage - 1989 - Squall

He looks small and scared, curled up in the corner of the room, his head still tucked beneath his skinny arms. His back moves with each breath, the sound of his gasps breaking my heart further.

I bend down and gather him against my chest, his eyes flying open to look at me, but I don’t know if he actuallyseesme. They rove over my features, but the dark brown irises look void of feeling, of any emotion besides pain.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur as I carry him into the common room, then to his cot. “I heard her screaming at you, but I was too scared…” I clench my jaw, preventing the words from slipping through my lips.

I put him on his bed and drag the thin blanket up and over his small body, watching as he curls into a ball and buries his head in the flat pillow. A warmth gathers in the pit of my stomach as a chill races down my spine. He’s been left to fend for himself. I understand we all have our battles here, but he is the youngest. We are meant to protect him. I can’t speak for the others, but I feel like I’ve failed him.

I won’t fail him again.

I turn to head to my own bed beside his when I feel his hand grab my arm, the fingers cold like ice. “Sval?” He sounds so small, nothing like the fierce boy who killed our tormentor. “Can you stay with me?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat and turn back around to face him. I’ve never had a little brother to look out for, and suddenly the mounting responsibility is like a bucket of icy water being thrown over my body. What if I’m like my mother and fail?

“Please?” he whines, his body beginning to tremble. “It’s cold, and I’m hurting all over.”

My body moves before my mind can catch up with my actions, and I slip under the blanket to lie beside him. He moves into my warmth, his cold nose pressing to my arm as he sniffles.

“I miss my mom,” he whispers. “I forget what she looks like. Am I a bad son?”

“No.” I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “You’re not a bad son. Your mom is in a place where she wishes she could help you, but can’t.”

“I hope she doesn’t see the things happening here. I hope she doesn’t know.” He curls in closer. “Is that where your mom is, too?”

A dry, sarcastic chuckle escapes my lips as I shake my head. “No. Mine is off being a whore somewhere without having to worry about finding her kid food.”

“Your mother is a whore?” Victor asks, as he lifts his head. “Like a prostitute?”

“She was.” I shrug. “I don’t know what she is now. Maybe she’s dead.”

“Do you hate her for leaving you here?”

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