Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (15 page)

I jumped to my feet and moved for the
hallway.

“Night, Mia. Help yourself to anything you
need,” Henrik called after me.

“Okay. Thanks.” I hurried toward the guest
room. Recessed lighting bathed the walls in a dim glow as I padded
down the hardwood hallway. When I was just outside the bedroom, I
heard a deep voice behind me.

“Wait.” Tyr must have followed me out of the
living room.

The butterflies in my stomach commenced an
Olympic-level trampoline routine. When I’d settled them enough to
turn without throwing up, Tyr stood two feet away. He looked
adorable, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his head
tilted to one side, and a lost expression on his face.

“Yes?” I asked.

Tyr stared at me with a focus that took me by
surprise. He took a step closer; heat radiated off his chest. Our
eyes locked. No matter how much I told myself to stop thinking
about this guy, I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt to him. He was
charming, and gorgeous, and dangerous, and completely and utterly
unattainable.

Falling for him would be extremely
imprudent.

Squaring my shoulders, I drew myself up.
“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” Tyr took another
step. Now we were less than a foot apart. I took a deep breath and
inhaled the intoxicating scent of spruce and sweat.
Bad idea,
bad idea, bad idea
.

“What did you want to say?” I forced myself
to meet his gaze.

“I wanted to say, uh… it’s nice to see
you.”

“You already said that.” I spoke calmly.

“Then I wanted to say this.” He bent down and
brushed my forehead with his lips. Oh, hot bejeebus. A current
flowed from my face down my spine, and settled in the base of my
belly. My skin felt as if someone had shoved me in a slow cooker
and turned it on high. And if the burning in my cheeks was any
indication, I must have been redder than a tomato patch.

“Oh.” My weight shifted to my back foot. Tyr
looked unsteady, the question on his face clear. Did I want
more?

Well, did I?

That wasn’t an easy question. The only thing
I knew was that I couldn’t possibly think with my head when he
looked at me like that, and I wasn’t about to hand over
decision-making duties to my heart. Not when it came to Tyr.

“Night,” I mumbled, as I darted into the
guest room and closed the door behind me.

But not before I’d caught the twinkle in
Tyr’s eye. I’d inadvertently issued him a challenge, and something
told me he wasn’t about to turn it down.

****

An hour later, I was pillow-deep in the plush
sleigh-bed, staring at my book. I’d spent forty-five minutes trying
to read the last act, but I hadn’t registered a word. Needless to
say, the quiet knock on the front door made me jump.
Who knocks
on doors in the middle of the woods this late?

When nobody answered, the knock came again.
It was firmer this time.

“Tyr?” A voice called. It was a female voice.
A musical one.

The sound of silence echoed from upstairs.
Awkwardness washed over me like a wet blanket. Whoever this visitor
was, I doubted she’d want to be greeted by a pajama-clad co-ed.
Maybe Tyr couldn’t be bothered to greet his guest, but at least
Henrik should come answer the door.

The knocking continued in an insistent
rhythm.

“Tyr, it’s Freya. Open up.”

Friends my foot.
If Freya was just a
good chum, she had no reason to be knocking on his door this late
at night. I’d been right about their relationship. That lying
son-of-a…

I was done being lied to. The covers couldn’t
come off fast enough; I flung them aside and stomped down the hall
with all the grace of an irate rhino. The doorknob was cold in my
hand as I wrenched it open and got my first look at Freya.
Oh,
fantastic.

The chill shot up my arm and settled on my
heart like a frost blanket—
baben
didn’t even begin to cover
it. Standing opposite me was an extremely beautiful, and extremely
surprised, supermodel. She had waist-length strawberry-blond hair
and perfectly applied makeup. And though she was dressed casually
in mid-calf boots, skinny jeans, and a fitted fleece, she exuded
the kind of glamour I’d never achieve. I was girl-next-door pretty.
Freya’s ethereal beauty had been lowered from the heavens so all
the men of Earth could worship at her feet like an army of lovesick
puppies. And she got to be BFFs with the one guy at Redwood who’d
caught my eye.

Life was so unfair.

“Oh. Mia.
Hei hei
.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course.” Freya’s smile brightened. “It’s
nice to see you here. Does this mean you and Tyr are together?”

“Us? Oh. No. My house is being, uh,
de-ratted, so I needed a place to stay.” And then, because I just
couldn’t help myself, I added, “I’m sorry, who did you say you
are?”

“I didn’t.” Freya’s eyes sparkled as she held
out a perfectly manicured hand. She’d done a twist on the classic
French—her bases were pale pink, her tips silver. Even her nails
were perfect. “I’m Freya. Tyr’s friend.”

“Hi.” I shook reluctantly. Freya had a
surprisingly firm grip.

“Is Brynn staying here too?”

“Brynn’s in the upstairs guest room.”

“Interesting.” Freya put her hands in her
jacket pockets.

“So… did you want to go up and see Tyr?” The
words lodged in my throat. If there was anything between him and
me, a beauty queen had no reason to be on his porch at this
hour.

“I think it’d be better if you went up and
told him I was here. Would you mind terribly?”

“Um… okay. Come on in.” I held open the door.
Freya stepped into the foyer. Her long legs moved in seamless
steps; she looked as if she were floating.

Geez, she was beautiful. She was graceful. If
she got hold of my Meemaw’s cookbook, I wouldn’t stand a
chance.

“Do you want me to get Henrik or Brynn, too?”
I asked.
Or instead?

“No. Just Tyr.” Freya smiled sweetly.

Dang it.

“Be right down.” I jogged up the stairs
without looking back. When I reached the second story, I paused.
Tyr’s was the one on the end. Stepping lightly on my toes, I padded
down the hall and knocked softly. “Tyr?”

My knees buckled when Tyr opened the door.
The T-shirt was gone. He was in a loose pair of charcoal grey
sweatpants, nothing else.

Five years of mandatory etiquette training
failed me miserably; there was just no way not to stare. He was
inhumanly gorgeous.

Tyr’s body was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
He looked like the live model for one of the paintings from Art
History.
Norse God of Bodybuilding
, by Thorson Larson
Bjornson.

“Thank Odin you’re okay.” Tyr’s voice was
husky, as if I’d woken him up. He pulled me into his arms and
hugged me, hard. Had he turned nuttier than a fruitcake in a pecan
factory?

“Of course I’m okay.” Better, now that my
face was pressed against a bare chest that was hard as a plank and
smelled absolutely divine. But why in the world was the king of
stand-offishness
hugging
me, of all things? I hadn’t taken
him for a hugger. “Are
you
okay?”

“I am now.” Tyr exhaled slowly, then leaned
back to hold me at arm’s length. “You’re not hurt?”

“Why would I be hurt?” This interaction made
zero sense.

“I just thought…” Tyr shook his head. “It was
a dream.
Förbaskat
realistic dream.”

“Nope. I’m fit as a fiddle.” I shrugged. Then
I forced myself to step back. Being this close to a half-naked Tyr
was a really, really bad idea. The man was hotter than blue blazes
in July.

“Um, you have a visitor. Your
friend
Freya is downstairs.” I crossed my arms.

“Freya?” Tyr leaned against the doorjamb and
touched his jaw. His fingertips grazed the unnecessarily sexy touch
of stubble kissing his skin. “What’s she doing here?”

“No idea.” I shrugged. “Is she a frequent
late-night guest?”

“Mia.” Tyr rubbed his neck. “It’s not like
that.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, turning on one
heel.

Tyr’s fingers wrapped around my bicep. He
spun me back and pushed me gently against the wall. With his hands
on my arms and his chest inches from my face, it suddenly got very
difficult to breathe.

Tyr leaned in so our noses practically
touched. I stood frozen, drawing ragged breaths. Every nerve in my
body felt like it was on fire as my chest rose and fell, pressing
lightly against his with each intake of air.

“Look at me,” Tyr commanded.

My eyes moved up his body with agonizing
slowness. Tyr’s gaze bored into me with a focus that wiped any
remaining breath from my lungs. He rested one forearm on the wall
next to my head, maintaining eye contact as he spoke.

“Do you want me to show you how
un
interested I am in Freya? Because right now, she is the
absolutely furthest thing from my mind.”

“And what exactly is on your mind?” I
whispered.

“What do you think?” Tyr breathed into my
ear.

“Not me,” I blurted out. “You avoid me,
remember?”

“Yeah. I do.” Tyr’s breath was warm against
my skin. “Because you’re so
förbaskat
fragile, and I don’t
want you to get hurt. But it’s stupid to stay away from you when
that monster is—”

I stilled. “Monster? What are you talking
about?”

“Nothing.” Tyr rested his forehead against
mine. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. I just had a bad dream.”

“Maybe you need to rest. You’re not acting
like yourself.”
You’re being sweet, attentive, concerned.
Where’s the real Tyr?

“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.

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.”