Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (16 page)

“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 the 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.