The Quirin Stone

by Marie Morin

  She was next door to completely unconscious when he lowered her to the bed once more, barely even aware of his movements as he dragged the covers over her and tucked her against his side.

  Chapter Eight

  Cassie groaned, slapping at the air as if waving away a pesky insect as two chilling drops of water hit her face. With an effort, she pried her eyelids up, peering through the sliver of an opening. Thor's face hovered only inches from her own, his damp hair hanging around her face. She twisted her head as his lips sought hers.

  “Not until I've brushed my teeth,” she groaned, rolling over onto her belly.

  Chuckling, he smacked her bare ass lightly. “Time to get up."

  Pain went through every muscle in her body as Cassie clawed her way across the bed to the edge and finally rolled off onto her feet. She discovered as she took her first step, however, that they were merely twinges at the tip of the iceberg. The tendons on her inner thighs screamed in protest at the effort, the flesh of her sex pounding. Without thinking, she slipped a hand between her thighs, holding herself.

  “Are you all right?"

  Cassie turned to give him an evil look. “You mean aside from feeling like somebody's been driving a tree trunk into my privates?"

  He flushed, several different emotions flickering across his face at once, among them remorse and anxiety that he might actually have hurt her. It was the pleased look about her reference to his masculinity and his prowess that made her want to strangle him, however.

  Ignoring him, she straightened with an effort and headed toward the open door of the bathroom, trying her best not to walk as if she still had a post wedged between her thighs. Fortunately for him, he refrained from further comment. She could feel him watching her progress, however, and that was nearly as irritating.

  Reaching the bathroom at last, she slammed the door behind her and locked it. She paused for several moments on the other side, rubbing her throbbing sex. Finally, she made her way to the lavatory and searched the drawers until she found a dozen toothbrushes piled into the front edge of one. Removing it from its packaging, she searched the medicine cabinet for toothpaste. Dabbing some on her toothbrush, she thrust the brush in her mouth and headed for the shower.

  The hot water soothed her aching muscles, relaxing them enough that she could move more normally by the time she got out. Her pussy still felt as if somebody had been using it for a punching bag, but the pain had subsided to a more bearable level.

  She hadn't had sex in over a year. Three vigorous bouts in one day with a tool the size of Thor's was enough to make anyone's life difficult.

  If she'd been a virgin, she'd be dead now.

  Wringing as much water from her hair as she could, she toweled it, then dried herself and wrapped the towel around her like a sarong while she searched for a comb to rake the tangles out of her hair.

  Thor was no where in sight when she left the bathroom. Leaving the door open, she moved back into the bedroom, trying to remember what Thor had done with her clothes.

  The portrait snagged her gaze as she was scanning the room. A jolt went through her. Like the one downstairs, this portrait was nearly life size.

  It was the same woman. It wasn't a copy of the portrait downstairs in his study. The dress was different. The pose was different. As she stared at it, only peripherally aware that Thor had come back into the room and frozen on the threshold, the room seemed to fold in upon itself, forming a funnel. Suddenly, as in a dream, she realized she was someone else. She was inside someone else's body. Confused, she turned to look at Thor, feeling her confusion deepen as she saw that he wore a suit of armor like the armor beside the hearth. His helm was gripped in his arm, his blond hair longer, flowing loosely around his head. As she stared at him, a horrible, debilitating pain shot through her belly. She grabbed it, feeling her knees buckle.

  "Francois! J'ai mal partout!" Dragging her eyes from Thor, she looked down at herself as she felt something warm gush between her thighs. "Sang! Trop de sang! Le bebe, Francois! Mon bebe gre’ mourir!"

  The pain was nearly unbearable, but the blood was worse. The blood terrified her. She was loosing her baby. She knew it. She knew that it would die. She screamed as she lifted her hands and saw the blood that covered them, dripping down her arms. “The blood! There's so much blood! Oh God, Francois! My baby's dying! It's dying!"

  The grip of Thor's hands on her upper arms finally penetrated her hysteria. She looked up at him, feeling tears streaming down her cheeks. “I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! It's my punishment."

  Thor shook her again. “Cassie!"

  The word jolted through her. Abruptly, the funnel inverted around her, dizzyingly, disorienting her. She felt as if she was falling. When she struck, it knocked the breath from her lungs, brought blackness crashing in around her.

  The rocking motion confused her as much as the tremors she could feel when the first fingers of awareness filtered into her mind. The sudden need to breathe made her gasp, sucking in a large gulp of air, as if she'd been holding her breath. There was a noticeable tremor in the fingers that stroked her brow. With an effort, she opened her eyes and looked up at Thor's concerned face. “What happened?” She glanced around and realized she was on the floor, staring at the ceiling. “Did I hit my head?"

  “You fainted."

  She frowned, feeling a stab of uneasiness. “I don't understand. I've never fainted before in my life.... Until yesterday."

  He stroked her hair soothingly. “You should go back to bed and rest."

  The comment reminded her that she was up because she had class. She struggled to sit up. Finally, reluctantly, Thor released her. She sat forward, clutching her pounding head. Her hair was nearly dry. She must have been out for a while. “Did I drink something last night and forget about it? Because I feel like I've got a mother of a hangover."

  “Let me help you into bed."

  She pushed his hand away. “No. I've got class. I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

  He didn't move away from her, merely sat back on his heels. “I'd brought you some breakfast,” he said wryly. “Unfortunately, I dropped the tray when I saw you were about to faint. Sit here while I get you a glass of juice. That'll probably help."

  Cassie nodded, but she didn't look up at him. When he was gone, she struggled to her feet, catching herself against the wall when she swayed slightly. She saw she'd lost her towel. Glancing around for it, she saw her T-shirt at the foot of the bed and went to pick it up. When she'd pulled it over her head, she leaned against the bed for a moment and finally moved around it, remembering Thor had pulled her jeans off after he'd tossed her onto the mattress.

  Her panties were not to be found. Shrugging, she stepped into the jeans and pulled them up. She was fastening them when Thor returned to the room with a croissant and a glass of orange juice. He frowned.

  “You should rest. You're as pale as ghost."

  She shook her head. “I need to get to class,” she said as she took the roll and the glass. “What time is it?"

  “Eight thirty."

  “Shit! Where's my shoes? Never mind. I left them by the couch,” she said, hurrying past him.

  He followed her at a more leisurely pace. She was sitting on the floor chewing a bite of the croissant as she tied her shoe laces. “I can just wear what I have on, but I need to swing by my place to get my books."

  “You're sure you feel up to this?"

  She stood up, chugged the remainder of the juice and set the glass down. “I'm sure.” She glanced down at the mess from their meal the night before and the glass and half of a roll she'd lain beside them. “If you'd like, I'll come by after class and clean up the mess."

  He caught her arm. “The housekeeper can handle it."

  “I know she'll be delighted to have to clean up after two."

  “She'll get used to it,” Thor said, dropping an arm across her shoulders and leading her toward the sliding doors.

  She glanced at him, noticing for the fir
st time that he was wearing a suit. He'd slicked his hair back and secured it at the back of his head.

  He was wearing glasses.

  That sent a jolt through her. He didn't need glasses. He hadn't worn them in all the time she'd been with him and she hadn't seen one thing that would indicate any need for them at all. “You wear glasses?” she said in surprise.

  He glanced at her. “Only for reading."

  She allowed the subject to drop, but she didn't believe him. The only problem was, she couldn't figure out why he would wear them when he didn't need them. Just to look more professor like?

  They broke the symmetry of his face, made him look cold and unapproachable. Was that deliberate? Was that why he wore them?

  It seemed really weird.

  Oddly enough, that was the first thing her roommate, Janie, commented on when she ran into her at the student union later that day. Janie, looking as if she might burst, grabbed Cassie and led her to a quiet corner of the room. “Jesus Fucking Christ! I just about peed my pants when Professor Severnson strolled out of your room—half naked, even. I have never seen that man any way but immaculate—hair slicked back on his head—God I didn't even realize he had all that hair! And those godawful glasses perched on the end of his nose. It took me five minutes to figure out it was him. I freaked, I can tell you. Totally freaked!

  “What did you do, girl friend?"

  Despite all she could do, Cassie turned as red as a ripe apple.

  Janie burst out laughing. “Besides fuck his brains out, I mean. Hey! I would! You go girl!"

  Cassie glanced around sharply. “Janie! For God's sake! You know what'd happen if this got around. Please tell me you haven't breathed a word to a soul!"

  Janie pinched her lips. “This is good. Really good. I was dying, I'm telling you, but I'm not stupid. I don't have anything against Professor Severnson, not enough to get him booted, anyway. And you're my friend."

  Cassie frowned. “You don't like him?"

  Janie rolled her eyes, glanced around to make certain no one had settled near enough to overhear them and said, “You know what they call him around here?"

  “What?"

  “The Terminator."

  Cassie blinked in confusion. “Why?"

  “Because he's like a fucking robot, that's why! Coldest son-of-a-bitch I've ever seen in my life. I've never even seen him crack a smile. If you'd asked me, I would've sworn the guy didn't have the muscles in his face to manage it."

  Chapter Nine

  Feeling totally disoriented, Cassie found she couldn't do anything but stare at her roommate for a good five minutes. “Was that the joke?” she managed finally. “When I kept asking about him and you kept saying ‘you'll see'? You figured he was going to just freeze up on me and refuse to talk to me?"

  Janie looked uncomfortable. “If I'd told you, would you have gone anyway?"

  “That's not the point."

  “It's exactly the point! I tried to talk you out of it. You said it was your only chance. So, I didn't warn you. I didn't see any sense in trying to undermine your confidence—where's my slinky black dress, by the way? I hadn't realized it was so valuable."

  Cassie looked at her uncomfortably. “I need to get it cleaned for you."

  Janie gave her a look. “It isn't covered in semen stains, is it?"

  “God!” Cassie exclaimed, giving her a push. “You are such a nasty bitch! No, it is not covered in semen. I fell down."

  “In my dress!"

  “It's not hurt! I swear! Just a little dirty."

  “Back or front?"

  Cassie looked at her in confusion. “Front."

  “He did it doggy!” Janie snickered. “Must of looked like a Great Dane trying to hump a toy poodle. The guy's practically a freaking giant. Why is it the tall ones always go for the midgets like you?"

  Cassie didn't know whether she was more horrified by the image Janie put in her head or turned on by it, but she felt the color that had just faded return with a vengeance. Deciding to ignore the insult about her lack of stature, she explained that she'd fallen through the hedge while she was trying to see if it was the professor in the pool. Shrugging mentally at the cleaned up version, she promised to get the dress professionally cleaned.

  Janie still wasn't completely satisfied, but she quit complaining when Cassie offered to replace the dress if there was any damage to it.

  “What do you really know about the professor?"

  Janie shrugged, then grinned. “He's got a hell of a cock on him. Who would've thought he'd be hiding a love muscle like that!"

  Cassie hadn't forgotten Janie had walked in on them, she just hadn't realized Janie had managed to get that good a look. A prickle of possessiveness went though her. Resolutely, she dismissed it. “I'm serious."

  “So am I—OK.” She frowned. “He's been teaching here, from what I've heard, about ten years."

  A shock wave went through Cassie, leaving coldness in its wake. “Ten years?"

  Janie shrugged. “He's at least fifty. Damn well preserved, though."

  Cassie had the bizarre feeling that they were talking about two different people. She'd seen every inch of Thor's body, kissed him. There was no sign of any mature aging. None. She'd seen thirty year old men that looked older.

  “He's supposed to be a widower, but there's something weird about that."

  “What?"

  “Well, he was a widower when he came here, so she died more than ten years ago. But he has never mentioned her that I've ever heard, not once. Not even made a passing reference to her."

  Cassie sighed. “What's so weird about that? I mean, my parents died ten years ago and I don't talk about them. I think about them, but I don't talk about them, hardly ever anyway."

  Janie frowned. “Jeez! I'm sorry! I didn't know."

  Cassie shook her head. “That's my point. And it isn't exactly as if you and the professor were close friends."

  Janie caught her hands. “Look, I mean anybody, at all. I've heard people that should know him pretty well say he's never mentioned the wife he supposedly had that supposedly died, and even they think it's odd. In fact, he's never mentioned another living soul—not brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, parents—children."

  Cassie shrugged dismissively. “Some people don't have anyone. Maybe that's why he seemed so-uh—cold?"

  “Look, there's only two reasons as far as I can see why you wouldn't talk about somebody that should have been really close. Either he doesn't because he didn't give a damn about her to start with and forgot about her as soon as they threw dirt over her. Or, he still cares and he can't talk about it. I just figured you ought to know that in case you're thinking about seeing him again.

  “You could end up in a lot more trouble than just being asked to leave."

  Cassie frowned. “I guess if he doesn't talk about it, then nobody knows how she died?"

  “No, but he's cold blooded enough to be a regular blue beard."

  Cassie flushed, this time with irritation. “He's not cold! He's—he's very thoughtful, warm hearted, kind."

  “We're talking about Professor Severnson, right?"

  “I know it sounds weird, but he's been nothing like you described. It's almost like we're talking about two different people."

  “Yeah, well the Jekyll and Hyde thing ought to freak you, if nothing else. Don't take my word for it. Ask anybody. They'll tell you the same thing. It's like ... well, it's almost like he's a god or something and we're too insignificant for him to concern himself with our little problems. I've never heard of him doing anything deliberate to anybody, like he's mean to it. He just doesn't seem to care about anything.

  “He came within a gnat's ass of getting creamed by a logging truck one day. I saw that myself. The front end was smashed all to hell and gone. I peed my pants just watching it and I wasn't even involved in the accident. And all he did was get out of the car, brush the broken glass off his suit, look the car over and then start walking toward the college.
The cops had to come to his office to get the report out of him—and I'm talking Mercedes here, not Kia.

  “I've seen people beg him to give them a break on their grades, give them a little more time, let them retake a test. He just quotes the freakin’ rules and tells them not to worry about it, like he can't figure out why it would be that important to them."

  Uneasiness touched her then. That part, at least, had definite echoes of Thor Severnson. She almost felt stupid for thinking he was so enamored with her that he'd tried to talk her into cutting classes, just so he could spend time with her. Maybe the truth was he really didn't think it was important whether she got her degree or not?

  “Oh my fucking God!” Janie said in a harsh whisper. “It's him and he's coming this way. I can't fucking believe he means to walk up to you right here in the student union with everybody watching."

  Cassie felt the color leave her face. Without even considering the matter, without once glancing in his direction, she scrambled to her feet, grabbed her books and fled. He caught up with her just outside. When she looked up at him, she saw that he looked almost as furious as confused.

  “Why did you run from me?"

  “I wasn't running from you,” Cassie said irritably. “I thought you were going to be discreet?"

  “I hadn't considered throwing you down on one of the tables and ... uh, ravishing you,” he said dryly.

  She threw a red faced glance at him. “Your idea of being discreet is not fondling me in public? You think everyone won't start talking if we're seen together, at all?"

  “I can't think of any reason why it would start rumors if I give you a ride home from time to time."

  Cassie gaped at him. “You can't be that naïve! Or maybe you just think I am?"

  “You're thinking too much."

  Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly what does that mean, anyway?"

  “It means stop trying to figure me out. Stop trying to interpret what I say, my thoughts, my actions. They don't need to be interpreted. I say what I think. I mean what I say. I do exactly what I intend to do,” he said tightly, stopping beside his car as they reached the faculty parking area and opening the door for her.