by S. T. Bende
“Did you ever think that maybe I’m acting exactly like myself, because I’m tired of doing the right thing?”
I turned my head so I could look at him. “Um…”
“That’s not helping me focus.” Tyr released my other shoulder and brought his hand to my face. He ran the pad of his finger along my bottom lip, tugging it free of my teeth. “Better.”
“Your friend is waiting for you…” I pressed my back against the wall, grateful for its support.
“So?” he murmured. He ran his nose along my jawline, and I whimpered. How embarrassing. “Listen, I’m obviously failing at keeping my distance. But there’s something I need to tell you before this can go any further.”
“Yes?” I breathed. Tyr brought his nose up my cheek and rested his forehead softly against mine. Our lips were so close…
“I—”
Just then, a musical voice rang from the first floor. “Tyr! I really have to talk to you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. The supermodel’s timing could not have been worse.
Tyr pounded his fist against the wall. “Be down in a minute,” he called through gritted teeth.
“It’s kind of a big deal,” Freya called back. “Code red. Outside. Now.”
That sparked something in Tyr. He shot to attention, his back ramrod straight and his hands fisted at his sides. “I’m sorry, Mia. I need to go.”
“Okay.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Henrik poked his head out of his bedroom door. “I heard code red. Do you need me to—” he broke off as he noticed me standing there. “Oh, hei Mia. Fancy seeing you outside Tyr’s bedroom door. In the middle of the night. In your pajamas.”
My cheeks felt as if they were on fire. “Hi Henrik,” I muttered.
Henrik turned his attention back to Tyr. “Should I wake Brynn up?”
“No. I’ll head out with Freya.” Tyr tilted his head toward me. “You and Brynn just hang out here.”
“Will do.” Henrik yawned, then opened his door all the way and crossed to sit on his bed. “Check in when you get home, ja.”
Tyr nodded, and turned to me. “This shouldn’t take long, Mia. Wait up for me?”
His eyes looked adorably hopeful. He stroked my cheek with the back of one finger, and gave me a soft smile as I ducked my head. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry.” Tyr apologized again. He ran into his bedroom and threw on a T-shirt, hoodie and sneakers, then joined me in the hallway. He placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he growled at Freya. “This better be important.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Freya’s jaw was set. She glanced at Tyr’s hand on my lower back, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m sorry, Mia. I won’t keep him long.”
My cuticles became the subject of infinite fascination. “I have some reading to catch up on. Nice to meet you, Freya.”
Freya nodded, and turned on one heel. “I’ll be on the porch,” she called as she walked outside.
I edged toward my room, where my Shakespeare text lay on the unmade bed. Tyr grabbed my arm and spun me around. He pulled me close, so our chests were pressed together, then he lowered his mouth to my ear. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.
“Okay.” I swayed on my feet.
With that, he brushed his lips against my cheek, then followed Freya out the front door. I stood, too charged to move, until the sound of their footsteps faded into the forest.
CHAPTER NINE
THE HAND ON MY cheek interrupted what was fast becoming a very pleasant dream.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” Though the voice was low and warm, I shivered as I opened my eyes. It was as if my subconscious had willed him there; Tyr knelt next to the loveseat, looking positively delicious. His tight black T-shirt clung to his chest with a light sheen of sweat. Blond hair pointed in every possible direction, and his lopsided grin made my insides melt. The dim glow from the lamp hit him from behind so he looked like an angel.
“Hey,” I mumbled as I struggled to sit up. A crick in my neck stopped me cold. “Ow.”
“Hey yourself. You fell asleep reading.” Tyr chuckled. “And lodged Billy Shakes in a pretty lousy angle. Here.” He took the book off my shoulder and set it on the coffee table, then he pressed two fingers to my neck. “Is this where it hurts?”
I nodded slightly as pain spiraled down my back. “Yes.”
“Mia, Mia, Mia.” Tyr sighed as he began to massage the knot. “Who gets hurt reading?”
I searched for the appropriate response and gave up. His fingers were amazing.
“Did you just get home?” If the clock on the mantel was right, he’d been gone three hours.
“Yeah.” He rubbed in small strokes away from the knot. I groaned. The pain was gone, replaced by pulses of absolute relaxation.
“Everything okay?” I murmured.
“Not really. But we’re working on it.”
I wanted to ask what he meant, but instead I closed my eyes and leaned my head to the side. Tyr was doing a rolling thing with his knuckle that compromised my ability to form words.
“Mmm…” At the moment, I was not exactly the brightest bulb in the marquee.
Tyr’s fingers slid down to my shoulders, where a treasure trove of tension awaited. “You did a number on your back, prinsessa. Lean forward just a little.”
I did as I was told, and Tyr slid in behind me on the loveseat. I shivered again.
“You cold?” He leaned forward and pulled the blanket up to my lap before resuming his ministrations. I relished the feeling of strong fingers stroking my shoulders. When I let out an involuntary moan, Tyr tensed behind me.
After a moment, the kneading resumed. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you sleep.”
My body molded against his. Good God. This is heavenly. “Oh am I?”
“Lean forward, Mia. I can’t massage you when you’re this close. Not that I mind you there…”
Oops.
He pressed his thumb into my shoulder blade, and I let out a yelp. “Just give it a minute.” He kept a firm pressure on the spasming spot. Sure enough, the pain eased. Tyr rubbed a slow circle until the ache was gone, then made his way up my neck. When he trailed his fingers along the base of my hairline, I gripped the arm of the loveseat.
“Ah. So that’s your weak spot.” He rubbed it lightly. The sensations radiating from that one tiny patch of skin were debilitating. But much too soon, he pushed me away, gently extricating himself from the loveseat. He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
“Where are you going?” I whispered.
“It’s late. We both need to get some sleep.”
“O-oh…” My disappointment painted the word over two syllables.
Tyr gently took my book in one hand while he held out the other, palm up. When I stood, he tucked my arm through his and walked me to my room.
“I’ve got something to take care of tomorrow, but I’ll be home by five. Can I take you to dinner?” he asked.
“You mean like on a date?”
“Yes, like on a date.”
Um… I played with the ends of my hair. “I’d like that.”
“You hesitated.”
“No, I didn’t.” I protested with a head shake.
“You totally hesitated. You don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that… okay, it’s a little that,” I admitted.
“That’s okay. You probably shouldn’t trust me.”
“Why not?” I tugged my hair. Was he saying he was a jerk?
“A lot of reasons.” Tyr nudged my fingers, and I set my hair free. “The only thing you need to know right now is that I’m not going anywhere. And if you decide to let me in, then hold on, prinsessa. Being with me is one Hel of a ride.”
A tremor ran through me as I processed Tyr’s words. Oh, my God.
“So what do you say? Dinner tomorrow night?”
“Um. Well. Here�
�s the thing. I kind of promised Brynn and Henrik I’d cook lasagna tomorrow night. I really want to play in your kitchen. I’ve never used an actual Viking brand range,” I gushed. “Yours has six burners and a griddle and touch-sensitive gas adjustments and an oven that heats in under a minute. It’s just… wow. But if you’d rather go out, we can do that instead.”
Images of the ultimate cooking machine danced in my head while I waited for Tyr’s response.
“You’d rather host a dinner party than let me take you out?” Tyr chuckled. “That’s a first.”
“Well, having a guy pass on my legendary lasagna would be a first for me. And I’m not saying I couldn’t handle the rejection but, you know, it’s not the best opening move to crush a girl’s culinary spirit.”
“I hope I never crush your spirit. Culinary, or otherwise.” Tyr spoke so sincerely I didn’t doubt his words.
“So…”
Tyr handed me my book. “So you cook dinner for the motley crew. I’ll pick up dessert, and we’ll kick Brynn and Henrik out if they annoy us too much. It’s not the most conventional first date, but since you’ve got feelings for my stove, it’ll have to do.”
“I’d apologize, but I’m not even remotely sorry. It’s a seriously sexy stove.” My tone was light, but my hands gripped my copy of Much Ado so tight I was surprised it didn’t tear. It took every ounce of composure I had to not bounce up and down on my tiptoes.
“Maybe if I’m good, you’ll talk about me the way you talk about my stove,” Tyr teased.
“You should be so lucky.” I winked.
“You’re trouble, prinsessa. See you tomorrow night.”
He kissed the tips of my fingers, then he jogged up the stairs while I did my darnedest not to stare at his positively breathtaking behind.
I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaped into the downy sleigh-bed. I rolled on my back and kicked my feet in silent celebration.
Tyr asked me out!
****
When I woke up, Tyr was gone, and Brynn and Henrik showed no signs of coming out of their rooms. But the kitchen offered a fresh pot of coffee, a loaf of sourdough and a toaster that very well might have been manufactured by NASA. I made a quick plate of toast, then I grabbed my backpack and headed to the library. By nine, I was tucked away at a corner table, Much Ado in one hand and a soy latte in the other. By noon, I’d outlined my paper, and by two, my first draft was completed. My plan was to sit on it for a few hours before I made any changes, so I headed to the store to pick up the ingredients for lasagna, then headed back to Tyr’s place.
“Hello?” I called as I opened the door to the cabin with the spare key Henrik had leant me. “Anybody home?” I poked my head into the living room, the kitchen, the laundry room, and even dared a peek up the stairs. Nobody was there. I set down the grocery bag and pulled out my phone to text Brynn.
Where are you?
In town. Back for dinner!! Can’t wait for lasagna!!
I’m prepping it now, then going for a walk before I get back to my paper.
‘Kay. Have fun!!
After I slid my phone in my back pocket, I carried the groceries into the kitchen to start dinner. The range was even easier to use than I’d imagined it would be. The gas burners cooked the ground beef and onions to savory perfection, and Henrik’s oversized pots held the wide noodles with room to spare. Usually I had to snap them in half, but tonight’s dish would be an aesthetic, and hopefully culinary, masterpiece.
When I put the covered dish in the fridge, I noticed a cake box from the local bakery. Tyr must have picked up and delivered dessert while I was out. With a smile, I headed into the forest behind the house. I wandered aimlessly through the grove of giants. Lush, reddish trunks sprang up at random intervals along the damp earth, shrouding the forest beneath a leafy green canopy. My fingers brushed a low-lying branch of needles; I was surprised at how silky they felt. Green moss circled the base of each tree and snaked along the edge of the path. I trod carefully, knowing it would be easy to lose my footing.
When I reached a small clearing, I found a fallen tree and settled beside it. A cacophony of birds provided an afternoon serenade, so I leaned back against the log as I took in the prehistoric beauty surrounding me. With the towering redwoods and lush green ferns, it was calm, restful, and absolutely spectacular—a piece of nature untouched by time.
As I sat, a deer made its way across the small clearing. It walked gingerly, silent hooves padding on the mossy earth. A muted thud sounded in the distance, and the animal’s ears perked up. There was an electronic beep, as if someone had locked a car remotely. It sounded out of place in the woods. The beep rang again, and the deer took off, leaping through the trees and bounding gracefully over a small hill, then it disappeared from sight.
Once the deer was gone, there was silence. I checked my phone—I still had time before dinner, and enough curiosity to get a cat in big-time trouble. In ten seconds flat, I was on my feet, heading deeper into the woods, toward the sounds.
It didn’t take long to find the small cottage. The one-story structure was hidden within a thick grove of trees. It had a wraparound porch and large, curtained windows. Judging by the amount of lace on the windows and the birdfeeders attached to the overhang, I guessed the home belonged to a sweet elderly couple who sat on the porch swing every afternoon sipping tea and talking about their grandchildren. I wondered how many they had. Four? Maybe five?
I walked out of the trees, heading toward the cottage door. If these sweet little old people were Tyr’s closest neighbors, it was just good manners to see if I could bring them some leftover lasagna in the morning. There would be plenty after tonight; I’d made enough to feed a small army.
I’d just stepped onto the porch when I heard footsteps on the far side of the clearing. The elderly couple had a visitor. Maybe that was one of their adorable grandkids, coming around the corner of the house… wearing a bulletproof vest.
What?
I dropped to the ground so the vest-wearer wouldn’t see me, and rubbed my eyes. Maybe this was another hallucination. I counted to ten, hoping the sweet toddler grandson from my imagination might replace the guard. Nope. The forest was devoid of cherubic children. And now that I was on this side of the house, I noticed the shiny black Hummer sitting in the dirt drive. It was the old-fashioned kind the army used, not the fancy new models kids drove around Buckshire. And on closer inspection, those lacy curtains in the house were drawn firmly shut. Except the window nearest me—its curtains were parted just enough to let in a sliver of sunlight.
What was this place? A drug den? Should I call the police? Logic demanded I turn around and run as fast as my feet could carry me. But what if it wasn’t drugs inside that house? What if the vest-wearer was holding someone hostage? What if someone was trapped in there?
I’d been raised to look out for people who needed help, and right then I was overwhelmed with the feeling that there was someone in that house who needed me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call nine-one-one, only to discover I’d wandered into another dead zone. Seriously, Arcata? Would a few more cell towers be such a bad thing? I slid my phone back into my pocket and silently drummed my fingers on the porch. Walking away would be the smart thing to do—I could call the police from Tyr’s house just a few hundred yards away, where the good people of the telephone company saw fit to provide cellular service. I’d just take a quick peek in the window so I could give the police an idea of what they’d be walking into. Then I’d hightail it out of there. Looking out for the underdog was one thing—there was no need to get myself killed in the process.
I waited until the vest-wearer moved to the south side of the structure, then I jumped to my feet and crept to the closest window—the one with the gap in the curtains. I pressed my face to the glass, squinting until the room came into view.
All hope of seeing those imaginary grandparents vanished.
The room was set up like a medical ward. A queen-sized bed sat in th
e center, with the arm rails and raised back of a hospital bed, but the plush linens and downy comforter of a Ritz Carlton suite. A ghostly-white girl lay on the bed, her pale complexion offset by the dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile, and helpless, and young—she couldn’t have been any older than me. Four women moved between the bed and a cluster of monitors—at least, I thought they were monitors; I couldn’t see the screens, only images that reflected what appeared to be a body scan, and a series of numbers. The women wore long-sleeved, white robes that gathered at the neck with an ornate silver clasp, and they spoke calmly amongst themselves, occasionally keying something into the monitor.
I leaned in to pick up on their conversation, but as I pressed my ear to the glass, a clammy hand covered my mouth. My neck cracked as I was wrenched away from the window and dragged across the boards of the porch. Fear and pain fought for dominance in my brain, but I shoved them both in a corner while struggled to find a way out of this.
“On the ground!” My captor shoved me onto the dirt. My palms broke my fall just before my face hit the earth.
Oh, God.
“Arms behind your back,” a second voice ordered. “Cuff her.”
Rough hands grabbed my wrists, and my cheek hit the ground. Handcuffs clinked at the same time as cold metal slapped against my skin. Three clicks, and I was trapped. I took deep breaths, ignored the searing pain in my kneecaps, and willed myself not to freak out. But my heart pounded in my chest, my breath came in sharp gasps, and my face burned from its close encounter with the dirt.
Cheese and crackers. CHEESE AND CRACKERS.
“Stand up and don’t turn around.” The guard dragged me to my feet. He jabbed something cold against my neck. I didn’t have to look to know what it was.
So much for not panicking.
“Um…” My legs wobbled. I’d never been held at gunpoint before, but breaking down wasn’t going to be an option. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to defend myself—bringing that martial arts coach into the dry-land training mix suddenly seemed like the best life choice I’d ever made. Whoever my captors were, they probably wouldn’t expect me to struggle—one did have a gun trained on me. But complying wasn’t a survival strategy. I did not want to go wherever these guys would take me next. Fighting back would be terrifying… but whatever they had in store would be far worse.