Free Bound By Fate: A Novel of the Strong by Amy Knickerbocker

question before?
    “And my clothes.”
    “Yes,” he repeated.
    “So, I’m here to stay.”
    After the briefest hesitation, he gave a sharp nod.
    “Yes, you are,” he stated.
    Hands gripped tight to the edge of the desk, he waited for a response.
    And waited.
    “What do you want from me, my Tenn?” she asked at last.
    It was his turn to flinch.
    “Call me Toran.” He held up his palms. “Please.”
    “What do you want from me… Toran?” she repeated in a whisper.
    Gods, how to answer that?
    He opted for honesty. Toran figured she deserved nothing less… to a point.
    “I want what is owed to me,” he said, steeling his voice, “which is you doing your duty and serving me and my household.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

    Toran's voice had turned as cold as the air in the room.
    “What does that mean? Serve you?” Rising from her chair, Liv circled on unsteady legs to move closer to the fire. She moved with caution, glad two heavy chairs now stood between her and the daemon. She kept her eyes glued to his, not wanting to further provoke his anger.
    No longer quite under iron-fisted control, Toran's aura was now a confusing mix of hot and bitterly cold emotions, so much so it left her feeling raw. It was as if a battle of wills raged within him, struggling to make sense of it all.
    That’s to be expected, isn’t it? she reasoned. Finding each other is just as new to him as it is to me.
    The sharpness of his voice jarred her out of her thoughts.
    “You are faine. It means exactly what you think it means.”  
    Pushing off from the desk, Toran took two steps toward her, his knee almost knocking against a chair. Nudging it out of the way, he stepped closer.
    Breathe, Liv.
    She watched as the daemon's eyes shifted from her face to lower. Liv followed his gaze as he took in the contours of her body. It was a look of intense, but lazy, interest. It was almost as if… Ahh. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
    She bit back a moan as a lick of his venna kissed her skin.
    Rolling her head forward, Liv jumped when she saw he had moved with predatory silence even closer.
    “For centuries, the faine lived here in Venn Dom, doing their duty to deliver peace, prosperity. Harmony,” he said. The daemon stood still before her, his eyes deceptively calm. “All that was lost during the Great Cleansing…” Liv couldn’t help herself; she cringed. As if feeding from her distress, his voice sharpened. “For reasons we are both quite aware.” After a reluctant pause, he conceded, “Their absence has been felt. Especially as there are no more.”
    “There are no more?” Liv swayed on her feet. “All of them are gone?”  
    Undeterred by her heartache, Toran sidled closer, the signs of cold resentment evident in the sharp glint of his eye. “There are no more pure-blooded faine. Other than you.”
    “Other than me,” she repeated in a whisper.
    “Yes, you are the last of your kind.” The daemon stepped next to her, close but not so close they touched. Skin still blessed with his venna from before, Liv could feel the heat of his breath as he tucked his head at her ear to whisper, “Aren’t I lucky then that you from birth were marked for me?” His eyelids slid closed as he inhaled deeply, the tip of his nose just grazing the skin of her cheek.
    She began to tremble.
    With a snarl, he stepped away, leaving her trapped in the tangled web of his emotions.
    He pinned her with a glare from across his shoulder, his eyes flickering blue with his inner daemons. “I have brought you home,” he said, “and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay and do your duty.”
    “But you put in a door,” she cried.
    “I did,” he agreed. “These are not the dark ages, faine. There’s no reason why our business cannot be conducted in a civilized manner.”
    “Our business?” Her eyes stung at the callousness of his words.
    “Yes.” He turned back to face her head-on. “Our business,” he repeated. “That’s all this is, an