A brief grin played across his lips. “But I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe I think you’re worth it.”
My knees nearly buckled, and I retreated into the bathroom. My brain short-circuited on forming a reply. “I, uh...”
“Solina lost for a smartass retort? I never thought I’d see the day.”
I closed the bathroom door, slumped against the counter, and exhaled a long sigh. A being like him was never intended for a mortal woman like me, one who aged and died. I can’t ever be more than a fruit fly to him, a passing whim. If only he would stop making it so hard to believe that.
After I dressed, I splashed water on my face and tied back my hair. I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door.
Thorin leaned against the wall across from me. He glanced up from his phone. “Ready to go?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
In a flash, he crossed the space between us, and with a gentle touch, he drew me close, filling my senses with his scent of storms and ozone. I reached around his neck, preparing to secure myself for the ride through the ther, but then I paused and pulled back.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Turn off your thoughts.”
His scowl deepened. “What do you mean?”
“Whatever’s in your head right now, I don’t want to know about it. There’s something there. I feel it crackling around you like static electricity.”
“What are you so afraid of seeing?”
“A whole lot of things. It might not be wolves or monsters, but I have a feeling it could hurt me just as badly.”
He gasped and tightened his hold. His eyes darkened. “Sunshine, I’d never—”
“Please,” I implored. “Later. When things are... not like they are now. So uncertain and volatile.”
Chicken shit, said my inner critic, the little devil on my shoulder.
“We may never get that chance. Is that a risk you want to take? The regrets might be worse than reality. I thought you wanted to be more like your brother. He wouldn’t hesitate or deny himself.”
I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“You’re right.” I raised my chin and tried my best to stare down my nose at him. “My brother wouldn’t hesitate. He was impetuous and pleasure seeking to a fault sometimes. And that part of his nature might have been a factor in his death. I do want to be more like him, but not to my own detriment.”
He stiffened. “And you think I’m a detriment to you?”
I inhaled a slow breath and held it. Then I shook my head and let it out. “I think... I think immortality and humanity are like oil and water. They don’t mix.”
“I thought you said you believed in me.”
Not understanding his point, I frowned. “I do.”
He shook his head and grimaced. “No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t have these doubts. You should know me better by now. I’m patient, persistent, and don’t easily surrender.” And with that, my ears popped, and the hotel room blurred away.
Either he guarded himself as I had asked, or the distraction of space and time screaming past us disrupted our connection. He held me close—so close my ribs creaked, and although I had thrown my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him, I sensed none of his thoughts. And for a moment, I regretted it.
We fell from the æther with a bone-crunching suddenness. I squeaked, and Thorin grunted.
“I’ve got you.” He held me steady until the room stopped swirling and my stomach settled.
After peeling open one eye, I peeked at my surroundings: dark stone floors, timber beams crisscrossing a high ceiling, colorful, plush carpets, a massive rock fireplace, sturdy furniture that invited visitors to sit but still managed to look regal. An artwork collection from innumerable periods, regions, and styles hung in a hodgepodge on the wall behind Thorin. And everywhere books, books, and more books. The style was eclectic, just like its owner.
Welcome back to New Breidablick.
I let go of Thorin, stepped back, and let loose a jaw-popping yawn. I groaned. “Why do I think going to sleep won’t be easy?”
“I’m sure you’re as anxious to hear from Skyla and Baldur as I am.”
“Val wants something from us, from you. Until I know what it is, I won’t be able to really relax.”
He nodded and took my hand. Still, no flashes of insight, no visions—he had respected my request to keep his mental walls raised. He towed me down the hall and stopped us in the doorway to the bedroom Baldur had assigned me. The huge bed beckoned. Its mountains of pillows and filmy curtains promised to lull me into a deep and restorative sleep.
“Try to get some rest,” he said. “Not just for yourself, but for me.”
I arched an eyebrow. “For you?”
