Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (18 page)

Tyr leaned against the closed door. “We made
it.”

“Made it,” I said back. It was hard to form
words when I was cradled in his arms. I felt like the heroine in a
regency romance novel.

“So…” Tyr stared down at me. My heart thudded
against my ribcage.

“So…” With tentative fingers, I reached for
his hair. I touched the strands just above his ear, then trailed my
way down his jawline. A light stubble broke through the hard plane;
the rough hairs tickled the pads of my fingers. I hesitated, then
moved one finger to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom lip.
He stiffened.

“Sorry.” I pulled my hand back.

“Don’t be.” He grinned. “But I was under the
impression you wanted to meet my sister.”

“I do,” I insisted. I swung my legs over his
arms, and he helped me stand. “But is there a landline in here? I
need to call Brynn so I can ask her to put the lasagna in the oven,
and somebody confiscated my phone. Plus, apparently there’s no
reception out here.”

Tyr smiled. “Your mind never slows down, does
it?” He walked the few steps to a small desk by the living room
window, lifted the receiver of a telephone and held it out to me
while he dialed.

“Never,” I confirmed. When Brynn answered I
asked her to cover the lasagna and bake it at 375 for forty-five
minutes. She sounded unaccountably giddy when I told her I was at
Elsa’s with Tyr, and wished us a ‘fabulous time.’

“All sorted?” Tyr asked when I hung up.

I nodded. Tyr twined his fingers through mine
and pulled me toward the hallway. I glanced at the enormous hand
wrapped around my own. It was warm, and strong, and oddly familiar.
It fit mine perfectly.

Tyr knocked softly on the door. He poked his
head in without waiting for an answer.

“
Hei
. It’s me. I brought a guest. No
need for the security check on this one.” He pushed the door open,
providing a clear view of what I’d struggled to see through the
window.

A stark white room held a store of medical
equipment. The robed nurses exhibited an air of competence and
grace, their matronly expressions set in neutral masks. One
injected Elsa with a long needle, then stepped aside. The
white-clad caretaker kept her head low as she walked by Tyr. My
eyes darted to Elsa—she wore a long, silvery-blue robe, and a
strange rectangle hovered over the bed.

Tyr gripped my hand. “A moment, please?”

All four women stepped out of the room while
Tyr pulled me to the side of the bed.

“Mia, this is my little sister, Elsa.” He
gazed at her, and I followed his eyes. Elsa looked like a life-size
child’s doll. Her eyes were closed; thick black lashes rested
against unnaturally-pale cheeks. Blond waves flowed from the top of
her head down to her stomach, where her hands lay folded neatly
across her slender waist. Despite being in a coma, her eyelids were
powdered with a silvery shadow that offset the dark circles under
her eyes. She had a smattering of freckles across her tiny nose,
and her pale pink lips were fixed in a small smile.

“She’s so beautiful. Who would hurt her?”

“A monster,” Tyr growled.

“What’s that?” I nodded to the rectangle
hovering over Elsa.

“It monitors her vitals.” Tyr reached up to
press a corner of the rectangle, and a series of numbers and
symbols flashed across the suspended screen. “She’s holding—no
changes since you snuck up on us outside.”

“Sorry about that.”

Tyr lifted my chin with one finger. “I’m
sorry you found out. I don’t like you being any more involved with
this than absolutely necessary. But selfishly, it’s nice to be able
to share this with you. And Elsa would like knowing that you came
to meet her. She loves mortals.”

I shot him a puzzled look.

“You know what I mean.” Tyr shook his head,
obviously rattled. “People. She loves people. Sorry,
translation.”

His accent was so faint, sometimes I forgot
he was from another country.

“Right.” I turned toward the bed. “Can I talk
to her?”

Tyr nodded. “She’d like that.”

“Hi Elsa.” I kept my voice cheerful. “I’m
Mia. It’s nice to meet you. Your brother’s kind of a pain
sometimes. So’s my brother. We can talk about them when you wake
up.”

Tyr put a hand on my back and rubbed softly.
“She’s tough—she’s like you that way. But he found her in a weak
moment and almost broke her. Henrik and I barely got to her in
time. Freya suggested I bring her here—it’s so remote, we didn’t
think he’d find her again. I got her stabilized, and now it’s just
a waiting game. We’re hunting for a cure but so far, the best we
can do is keep her from getting worse.” Tyr’s shoulders
slumped.

“Hey.” I cupped his cheek. “She’s going to be
okay.”

“Thanks.” He bent to kiss my forehead and a
pulse shot from my face all the way down to my toes. While I fought
for breath, Tyr leaned over his sister and kissed her cheek. “Be
back soon, Else. Hang in there for me.”

Then he turned for the door and tugged my
hand gently. “Let’s get you home.”

When we walked in the hallway, three of the
white-robed women rushed back in to tend to their patient. Tyr
stepped aside for a hushed conversation with the fourth nurse
before returning to my side.

“She’s doing better today. Hopefully it’s an
upward trend.”

“I’m sure it is.” I squeezed his hand and
followed him to the Hummer. He turned the car around and drove
through the forest, weaving effortlessly through trees despite the
apparent absence of a road.

“So what exactly is your job?” I couldn’t
hold in the rest of my questions any longer. “I thought you were in
Arcata to figure out your next steps after you left the
military?”

Tyr glanced over as he drove. “You don’t miss
much, do you?”

My fingers tapped my temple. “Steel trap.
Answer the question.”

“I’m actually still involved with the
military, but my role is hard to explain.” Tyr thought for a long
moment. “Here’s the problem. I have a job I won’t be able to talk a
lot about. I’m going to disappear for days at a time, and I won’t
be able to tell you where I’ve been or why I left. I’ll show up
with nasty injuries, and the only thing I’ll be able to tell you is
that I’ll be okay. My job requires that I mitigate damages whenever
possible. I’ll be overprotective and overbearing, but it’s because
I know things I couldn’t begin to explain to you, and I don’t want
you to end up on life support with my sister.” He reached across
the console and put a hand on the back of my neck, rubbing softly
behind my ear. His words sent a chill dancing across my skin but a
second later, I melted into the touch.

“I’m not always going to be able to answer
your questions, but I can promise I’ll always take care of you.
I’ll never betray you, and I’ll make sure that whenever you’re with
me, you’re safe. And if you still want to date me, I’d like to
actually take you out. Like, outside of my house, and you’re not
allowed to cook. What do you say?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t an ideal situation,
given my need for
all the details
in every single situation,
ever. And it wasn’t at all the way I’d imagined starting my first
college relationship, if that was what this was going to be. It
seemed like a stereotypically dimwitted chick move to blindly
follow some guy who openly admitted to being secretive, angry, and
oh yeah, fending off a killer that stalked everyone who got
involved with him. But despite every lick of common sense screaming
RUN
, I didn’t want to. This might not have been what Jason
meant when he’d told me to live a little, but if anyone was worth
taking a leap of faith for, it was the Swedish dreamboat.

I made up my mind. For the first time, I was
ignoring what I
should
do and following my heart.

Even if it landed me smack dab in the middle
of a world of hurt. Or worse.

“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll be patient. Well,
I’ll try, anyway. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

“Good.” Tyr exhaled, the corners of his eyes
crinkling with his smile. “So where do we go from here?”

I checked the clock on the dashboard. “How
about dinner?”

TYR’S HOUSE WAS BATHED
in the warm
glow of sunset when we pulled into the drive. He came around to
open my door, then lifted me out of the car with ease. He left his
hands around my waist a moment longer than necessary. It was a
familiar gesture, and I stepped back.

“Why, Mia Ahlström. Did I make you blush?”
Tyr’s telltale half-smile was as adorable as it was
infuriating.

“No,” I lied.

“Pity. You ready?”

Tyr offered his hand, and I stared at the way
the filtered light reflected off his fingers. His question hung in
the air, a palpable tension crackling between us. This was it. Not
exactly the traditional dinner party, but
our
dinner party
nonetheless. And even though I’d been handcuffed, held at gunpoint,
and found out my would-be suitor was harboring a very dark secret,
this
was the part of my day that scared me the most. It was
the moment I took a chance on a guy I barely knew. A guy who, from
what I could figure, was a member of the Swedish secret service,
and might disappear on assignment at any moment, taking my heart
right along with him. A guy my roommate recently admonished to
‘play nice,’ and who, by his own admission, might never be able to
fully open up to me. A guy who seemed like an extremely imprudent
boyfriend choice… if that was even what this was going to be.

Break the rules
. Jason’s words rang in
my head as my pulse thundered in my ears.
Okay, big brother. But
you better know what you’re talking about
.

I put my manicured hand in Tyr’s slightly
calloused one. He twined his fingers through mine and squeezed
lightly, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.

We walked up the porch and Tyr opened the
front door. “After you.”

When we stepped inside, we were greeted by
the mouthwatering smell of fresh lasagna.
Sweet niblets,
Ahlström, you can cook!
Tyr closed the door behind him and took
my hand again, leading the way to the kitchen.

“That smells amazing. I know Brynn didn’t
make it,” Tyr ribbed.

“Ha. Ha.” Brynn stuck her tongue out.
“Putting it in the oven counts as helping. It smells great,
Mia.”

I waved at my friend. “It’s my Meemaw’s
recipe.”

“You going to share it?” Henrik whirled
around, salad tongs in hand and Kiss The Cook apron around his
chest. He glanced at my hand, still wrapped in Tyr’s, and broke
into a saucy grin. “Well
hei
, you two.”

Brynn caught on immediately. She leaned
against the counter, looking every bit the proverbial canary-eating
cat. “About bloody time.”

I tried to pull my hand away, but Tyr held
tight. “Come on, baby. Let’s set the table.”

My insides leaped in a dance worthy of
admission to the Bolshoi. I followed Tyr to the cabinet and took
the stack of plates he handed me, all the while running the words
over and over in my head.
Come on, baby
. The nickname rolled
off his tongue in that soft, lilting accent, as if it was the most
natural thing in the world to say. My heart thumped joyfully, and I
hugged the plates to my chest.

“You okay, Mia?” Henrik glanced over the top
of his glasses.

“Never better.” I practically skipped to the
table and began distributing plates, while Tyr set out knives,
forks, spoons and linen napkins. Henrik carried the salad over,
while Brynn set the lasagna on hot plates.

“Oh. I forgot the garlic bread.” Brynn jumped
up and ran to the oven. She used an oven mitt to remove a
foil-wrapped loaf of sourdough before bringing it to the table.

It was smoking.

Tyr opened his mouth, no doubt to make a
snide remark, but when he saw Brynn’s expression his jaw snapped
shut.

“Sorry guys,” she muttered.

Henrik patted her hand. “I always liked
crispy bread,
sötnos
.”

He offered me one of the slightly less
charred slices from the center of the loaf. He did the same for Tyr
as Brynn doled out lasagna, and I dished up the salad. Soon we were
happily eating.

“Mmm… sourdough.” I took a bite. “It’s so
nice living in California.”

“The patriot in me feels compelled to point
out that gingerbread is superior to sourdough. And it’s best made
in Sweden.” Henrik cut into his pasta.

“Tell me more about where you guys are
from.”

“What do you want to know?” Tyr took a bite.
“This is delicious, Mia.”

“Thanks,” I demurred. “I don’t know, what was
it like growing up together?”

Tyr and Henrik exchanged a glance. Tyr spoke
first. “It was… interesting.”

“Interesting?” Brynn snorted. “It was a
regular riot. I lived next door to the Andersson boys. Tyr and Elsa
grew up a few properties away until—well, they were always nearby.
I don’t have a single memory that doesn’t involve Tyr and Henrik
beating each other senseless with sticks, swords, numb chucks—”

“Nunchucks,” Henrik corrected.

“Whatever. They basically spent first through
sixth forms beating the living daylights out of each other.”

“All in good fun.” Tyr leaned back. He set
his utensils across his plate.

“Do you want seconds?” I held up the serving
spoon.

“Maybe later.” He winked at me.

“Didn’t your brother beat on his friends
growing up?” Brynn took a bite of salad.

“His friends. Me. Jason was a bruiser for a
few years there.” Tyr bristled, but I just laughed. “Oh, don’t
worry about it. My dad taught me a few choice moves. Let’s just say
Jase’s friends
loved
the story about how Jason lost his
first tooth when he tried to rough up his baby sister.”