me into his arms.
I tensed, thinking he was going to try to start something, maybe kiss me.
But he didn’t, he pressed his jaw to the side of my head and his hips started swaying, his hands at the small of my back moving me with him.
Holy crap, he was dancing with me in my living room.
I didn’t even wait a second before I closed my eyes and moved, telling myself, just this moment, just this time, just this five minutes with Tor and The Dave Matthews Band and a freaking fantastic song.
Just these five minutes.
So I bent my neck and rested my forehead to his shoulder. He took my hand, laced our fingers together, held them to his chest, his other hand pushing into the small of my back, fitting my hips snug to his. I slid my other arm around his shoulders and turned my head so my forehead was against his neck. At this, he bent his neck and rested his lips against mine.
And we swayed. Even when the tempo of the song increased, Tor kept our movements slow, fluid and in my little, colorful living room, the rain beating outside, the day gray, the streets grimy, with the help of The Dave Matthews Band, Tor created magic. I felt it with every strum of the guitars, every longing word, every sway of our hips, the hardness of Tor’s body pressed to mine, the warmth of his hand at the small of my back, his strong fingers holding mine tight.
It was the most astonishingly beautiful moment in my life, unbearably sexy, and even though I’d spent nearly two months in a glittering fairytale world, in that moment’s enchanting simplicity, it was by far and away the most magical.
And when the song faded away, I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to snatch the notes back. I didn’t want five minutes, I wanted ten, I wanted an hour.
I wanted a lifetime.
Tor’s hips stopped moving and his hand pressed mine flat to his chest before it came to my chin, lifted my face up to his and I could see, clear in his eyes, he’d felt everything I’d felt and that exquisite pain I felt last night again slashed through me.
Then he declared quietly, “The man who wrote the words in that song has given half his soul to his woman. There is destiny you cannot control but this man, he found the woman who completed him and he gave his soul at his liberty.”
And he said this like he knew it from experience.
And he said it looking at me.
Then he bent his head and touched his lips tenderly to each of my eyes in turn, both of them closing and staying closed even after he let me go and I heard his boots beat on my floors and then I heard the electric razor coming through the bedroom from the bathroom.
I realized my chest was rising and falling deeply, my eyes slowly opened and I stared at my wall as I allowed myself one more thing.
I allowed myself to feel that exquisite pain at the same time the shadow of the touch of Tor’s lips on my eyes lingered.
Then I went to my bathroom to share the basin with Tor as I fixed my makeup and decided not to share with him that “Crash into Me” had hints of voyeurism at the same time I decided, forever and always, that song would mean to me exactly what it meant to Tor.
And now we were in my car, heading to my parents’ house and I was, again, freaking out.
And I was tired of freaking out.
So damned tired of it.
Tor’s hand came to mine and his fingers laced through while he noted softly, “I like this transport.” I turned to look at him and watched him lift my hand and brush his lips against my knuckles.
Damn. There it was, that exquisite pain was back.
He dropped our hands to his thigh and without taking his eyes from the road, he continued, “But I prefer Salem. In your car, you’re too far away.” My breath caught. “On Salem, you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
I closed my eyes, looked away then sighed deeply.
I wished he’d quit saying (and doing) things like that at the same time I wished he’d never stop.
Damn.
My folks’ house came into sight and I whispered to Tor, pointing with my hand not held in his, “It’s that one, right there. You can park in front.”
With ease, Tor guided my car to the curb.
I stared out the window at my parents’ house, trying to force myself toward calm.
I felt Tor squeeze my fingers and my head swung to him.
“It’ll be all right, my love,” he assured me quietly.
“Right,” I whispered, not believing him.
His hand brought mine to his chest as his other hand came out, hooked me around the neck and pulled me to him.
“If it isn’t, I’ll make it so,” he declared. “That’s a vow.”
I held my breath. Tor smiled at me.
And, damn and blast, looking at his smile and the ease behind his eyes, I found calm.
Chapter Twenty-One
Meeting the Parents
“You what?” my father shouted at me then his eyes sliced to Tor, his fists hit the table, he shot out of his chair and bellowed, “Get away from my daughter!”
I closed my eyes tight.
Let’s just say that dinner was not going well.
It had started okay.
Sure, Mom and Dad had been a little overawed in an obvious way when they first laid eyes on Tor. For one, he was a lot taller than any of my other boyfriends (a lot). For two, he was also a lot more powerfully built (a lot). And three, he was a lot scarier-looking (a lot).
Tor was hot but that didn’t mean he looked like a guy you messed with. All of my boyfriends were relatively good-looking but they were also laidback, easygoing and fun-loving. Tor looked like what he was. A warrior dressed in jeans, boots and a nice shirt.
His scar, no matter how sexy, obviously helped.
But my parents seemed game and were themselves, friendly and charming.
Things disintegrated when Tor was, well, Tor. He was touchy, very much so. He was also attentive, very much so. And he was possessive, clearly so. I couldn’t really explain how he demonstrated the last, he just did. And Mom and Dad caught it. And Mom, who for two decades of my life (to my utter embarrassment as a teen) didn’t wear a bra and Dad, who read Mom’s newsletters from the National Organization for Women from cover to cover (sometimes taking highlighters to it just so Mom, during her perusal, wouldn’t miss things Dad thought important she note), didn’t take to it too well.
It didn’t help matters that I was freaked out, worried, confused and my life was in a turmoil… and it showed. They noticed and didn’t take to that too well, either.
They started to pry into the last two months of my life, specifically how I hooked up with Tor, and, wanting to pick the best time to deliver the news that Tor and I were at the mercy of unpredictable blue mist magic, my answers were cagey. Tor took my lead and kept completely silent on the subject. Again, they didn’t take to that too well.
Conversation became stilted. Mom and Dad exchanged unhappy glances. Tor was catching my eye, communicating to me that if I didn’t do something, he would. I didn’t want him to do anything Tor-like which would
