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Was this how he’d “handled” it? By beating the shit out of King? Why else would the guy literally flee when he saw me?
As I fished my cell out of my pocket again, I lost sight of King, which was just as well, because I didn’t want to see the guy anyway. I called Tor and made my way outside, walking in the opposite direction of where the inflatables were set up so I could have a bit of privacy. I wasn’t sure if he’d even pick up, since he said he’d be in meetings until this evening, but the line only rang once before his smooth voice reached my ears, and the sound stroked my cock.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he said, and the smile that crossed my face then was completely out of place, given what I’d called him for, but I couldn’t help it. The man had that effect on me, simultaneously calming and arousing me. “I suppose this means you couldn’t wait until tonight to tell me how much you miss me.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “That’s an awfully cocky assumption. What if I was calling because I needed help?”
The one-eighty of Tor’s tone was immediate. “Are you in trouble?”
“What? No. I was just saying, what if? I’m fine.”
He exhaled. “It’s not wise to joke about such things.”
“Why? Would you defend my honor?” I hesitated before deciding to press my luck. “Like you did with King?”
The line went silent for so long that I thought he’d hung up. Or worse, that I’d pissed him off and he was preparing for a verbal assault.
Neither was true, because, calm as you please, Tor said, “I defend what’s mine. You’re mine.”
Holy hell. I’d been half hoping he’d tell me I was out of my mind, that he’d never do such a thing, even to a man I despised as much as King. But here he was, not even bothering to deny that he not only knew what I was talking about, but that he did it.
Lowering my voice to a hushed whisper, I said, “You admit it, then? Holy shit, Tor…his arm is broken and everything—”
“I assure you, it’s not. If I’d wanted it broken, I would’ve made it so.”
“But it’s in a sling—”
“Merely dislocated.”
“And the bruises on his face?”
I could almost see Tor shrug. “Maybe he ran into his car door. Accidents happen.”
“Tor…” I ran my hand through my hair and began to pace. “Why would you do something like that? I told you I could deal with him.”
“My little lamb, so naive to the evil in the world. It’s one of the things that draws me to you, and it’s something I’ll do anything to protect.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he said, his voice turning hard as steel. “I will do whatever’s necessary to protect what’s mine, and while you’re mine, that’s not up for negotiation. Do you understand? Yes or no.”
I leaned against the outside wall of the museum and gripped the ends of my hair. I knew it was no use arguing with Tor, because this was one fight I wouldn’t win. King was a douchebag, which wasn’t a good enough reason for unhinged joints in my book, but if he had been following me, if he’d been watching me all these weeks, then I couldn’t deny that he’d gotten what he deserved. Tor had only been protecting me…right? He wouldn’t have gone after King just because he’d looked at me, so how could I be upset at him for keeping me safe?
“Yes.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I understand.”
“Good,” Tor said, the ice in his voice thawing. “Now, tell me where you saw him.”
“I accidentally bumped into him just now at the museum.”
“What? Did he—”
“King didn’t say a word to me, I promise. As a matter of fact, he ran away from me like he was on fire.” Which, now that I knew Tor had most likely threatened his life, made complete sense.
Tor chuckled, a pleased, self-satisfied sound that made me quake, even in the warmth of the sun’s glare. “Let me know if that changes.”
“I will,” I said, looking up to see Brayden jogging across the parking lot toward me. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” There was sexual promise behind those words, and my dick pulsed in anticipation. Tonight would be my first trip to the den as his special guest, and I had no idea what to expect. But one thing was for sure—it would be something I’d never forget.
“Hey,” Brayden said, as I tucked my phone back into my pants pocket. Casual in jeans and a t-shirt that molded to his built frame, and with his short hair damp like it was freshly washed, he caught the eyes of several women around our age standing over by the makeshift wine bar. “Sorry I’m late. Some idiot decided it would be fun to plow into a utility pole, so Catalina Street is fucked.”
