Immortals (Runes book 2) (21 page)

“Beautiful. I think I might be in love. Or in lust. I can never tell the difference. So what do I get for making this happy reunion happen?”

I cocked my brow. “What?”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, causing the swing to rock. “You think big brother woke up on Friday and decided to come after what he wants? Nope.” He pointed at me. “I beat some sense into him on Thursday night.”

Yeah, right. I’d seen the destruction they caused when they fought. “What did you tell him?”

“Everything from the moment I saw you and thought you were available to your selfless willingness to save your friends at the meet.”

I wasn’t sure how to take his confession. I’d tried to tell Torin the truth, but he hadn’t believed me. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you tell him?”

“His moping around was beginning to drive everyone nuts. Was he happy hearing about your shared past? Nope, but he couldn’t tell me to shut up with Lavania around.” He chuckled. “That’s one thing about Torin. If you want him to behave, you wait until she’s around.”

My conversation with their maker flashed through my head. “Are you saying she was there while you talked to Torin?”

“She was in the kitchen cooking, but I’m sure she overheard us. So what do I get for playing Cupid?”

“Um, a thank you?”

He scowled. “Is that what he’s worth to you?”

Last night’s conversation between him and Torin made sense now. Torin had given him his Harley for bringing us back together. How romantic. My insides softened. “Anything you want.”

The smile left his eyes. “Answers about Maliina.”

His ex? “What do you want to know?”

“Everything she did to you while I was off escorting souls home. It might give me a clue to what I did wrong, so it never happens again. Torin, with his jacked up memories, can’t help me and, uh,” he scratched his temple, “I don’t want to ask Ingrid. She’s still sensitive about Maliina’s disappearance.”

My phone buzzed. It was Eirik again. I ignored it, and focused on Andris. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“We’ll talk later.” He leaned back against the chair and gently swayed. “Go on in. Maybe you might catch him changing and never leave his bedroom.”

I reached a conclusion as I listened to him. “You’re definitely not the one vandalizing our lockers at school.”

He snorted. “You suspected me? That hurts.” His mock outrage didn’t last. “Why?”

“I didn’t suspect just you. I suspected all Valkyries. My counselor said Officer Randolph staked out the lockers, yet someone slipped by him and wrote on it. That means the person responsible—”

“Moved so fast the human eye couldn’t see him or her,” he finished.

I nodded. “Don’t worry. You’re off the list now.”

He glared at me. “Oh gee, thanks.”

I grinned. “You’re welcome. Of course, Torin wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“Yeah, he’s whipped. That leaves Ingrid.” Andris jumped to his feet and marched to the door.

“And Lavania,” I added, following him.

“She is above reproach.”

“Spoken like a loyal son,” I mumbled.

“I heard that, smarty mouth. She wouldn’t harm a Mortal, or would-be Immortal.” He opened the door and yelled, “INGRID! Get your lovely ass out here.”

“You’re going to ask her now?”

“Of course. Don’t give me that look,” he added. “I’ll be subtle.” His eyebrows shot up when Ingrid appeared wearing a lacy, see-through blue camisole and matching panties. “Nice, but inappropriate, young lady. Get dressed. I’m taking you out to lunch.”

Ingrid grinned.

“Wipe that grin off your face. It’s not a date,” he added rudely. “We’re leaving the house to give Torin and Raine some privacy.”

Ingrid pouted then turned and walked toward her bedroom, the sway of her hips exaggerated. Andris watched her with a transfixed expression. As if she knew he was watching, she stopped and threw him a glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway. He blew out air and scrubbed his nape.

“You like her,” I said, grinning.

He glared.

“Andris and Ingrid sitting in a tree,” I sang and danced. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

He made a face. “She’s off limits.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so,” he said in a firm voice, sounding so serious and grownup all of a sudden. “You’ll get your answer when we come back from lunch. Personally, I don’t think she’s the one. She’s incapable of doing anything mean.”

He really liked her. “That leaves no one.”

“No, that leaves the Norns. Think about it. The more you are ostracized the more you’ll do what they want. Norns wipe out memories. The first thing they’ll teach you is how to make everyone forget what happened at that meet.”

“No, they won’t,” Torin said, stepping into the living room. “Raine will never become a Norn.” He looked gorgeous in a blue shirt that made his eyes even more brilliant. He didn’t stop until he was in front of me.

As usual, having him this close sent a flurry of activities in my stomach. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear, then lowered his head ever so slowly, making me wait and anticipate his kiss. I hated it when he did that and loved it when he made up for it.

I closed my eyes, but all he did was brush his lips against mine then lean back. My eyes flew open. He smirked, the tease, then said, “You should have left five minutes ago, Andris.”

“Damn straight,” Andris said. “I don’t want to hang around like a third wheel while you make googly eyes at each other.”

“Ignore him,” Torin said, gripping my hand. “He’s just jealous.” He led me to the kitchen. “You sit here,” he directed me to a stool. “I’ll take your order. Salad or sandwich.” There was a head of lettuce, tomatoes, red onions, bread, different cold cuts, and slices of cheese. He planned to make everything fresh.

I grinned. “Salad.”

“Ah, I thought you might say that.” He reached for the cutting board and pulled out a knife from a knife-holder. He started slicing tomatoes like a pro, his movements fast and efficient. The slices were evenly cut.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Here and there. One thing we Valkyries have is time. When not pretending to be in high school or college waiting for some poor guy to die or escorting souls to the halls, we keep busy learning things. I can cook better than most chefs,” he bragged, “repair any engine blind-folded, name every city in every country and speak all languages known to man, including extinct ones.” He picked up a red onion and cut it in half from the stem tip to the root end. He chopped the first half without shedding a tear.

“Okay, you have to show me how you did that.”

“Come here.” I got up and walked to his side. He guided me to stand between him and the counter with my back to his front. Resting his chin on my shoulder, his cheek against my ear, he gave me the knife and guided my hand.

It wasn’t easing concentrating when his breath brushed my cheek or when I knew I could easily turn my head and kiss him, and slice my fingers off. He rubbed his cheek against mine and I sighed.

“Focus,” he warned.

“Then stop messing with my head,” I muttered.

He chuckled, the sound sexy and rich, and I found myself grinning back. Somehow, he managed to show me how to hold the onion with my knuckles bent so I wouldn’t cut myself and slice pieces horizontally without my eyes watering. “Good job.”

I turned my head and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

He groaned and kissed me.

“Score,” I said.

He leaned back and cocked his eyebrow. “You want to play?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Oh, yes. Let’s see who can tempt the other more.”

We spent an hour preparing what should have taken us ten-fifteen minutes, and I lost by a mile. He showed me how to wash a head of lettuce and make a mouthwatering sandwich without making the bread soggy. It was probably the most fun I’d ever had preparing a meal.

“Tell me how we met,” he said after we finished eating.

“But Andris—”

“Gave me his version, which was embellished to make me look like a jackass. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before, Freckles. Will you forgive me?”

I nodded, laughing and trying hard to fight tears. I would forgive him anything if it meant he’d remember what we had. Not leaving anything out, I told him how we first met to when he disappeared. His eyes became shadowed and his jaws clenched when I explained how devastated I’d felt when he’d disappeared, how I’d searched for him during the dance and made a deal with the Norns to bring him back. I wasn’t done talking when he pulled me into his arms.

“Enough,” he whispered harshly. “I’m so sorry I caused you such pain.”

I wasn’t sure who was more shaken, me from reliving that horrifying week or him from hearing it. “No, it’s not your fault. The Norns did this to us.”

“But I let it happen. I should have healed you when I had a chance and faced the consequences.” He leaned back and ran his knuckles under my eyes, and I realized I was crying. He caressed the side of my face, touched the tip of my nose. “I promise you here and now, I will never make you go through such pain again.”

I nodded.

His eyes searched my face. “I want to remember everything. Will you help me?”

“Okay, but my mom said Norns are thorough when they scramble people’s memories. My dad never remembered their time together when the Norns were through with him.”

“Your father is a Mortal. I’m a Valkyrie. I will remember.” His arrogance reared its ugly head, but I didn’t care. “I want to remember seeing you for the first time, how I felt when we first touched, our first kiss. I want to remember holding you while you slept after your surgery. I want to know the pain of almost losing you, so I can appreciate having you—”

I kissed him this time, shutting him up. “It feels like the first time whenever we kiss, touch or even when you look at me. We can create more memories.”

“I still want our memories back,” he insisted stubbornly, and I knew hearing about what happened wasn’t the same as having those memories back. He stroked the right side of my head where I’d had the craniotomy. “May I?”

Feeling a little self-conscious, I nodded. He parted my hair and ran his fingers along my lumpy scalp, searching for the titanium screws holding the piece of bone the surgeons had cut out and fused with a titanium plate.

“Does it hurt or feel uncomfortable?” he asked in a low voice as though he was imagining my pain.

“No. I don’t think about it except when I shampoo my hair,” I lied. The area no long hurt, but it was lumpy, which was uncomfortable, and a few times I thought I felt a loose screw. “I saw a physical therapist a few days ago, and he massaged the scar. He encouraged me to do it often to make my scar and scalp more flexible.”

 
“So that’s why you were at the hospital,” Torin said.

That explained the sound of a Harley engine I’d heard. “You’ve been stalking me.”

“Keeping an eye on you. Not the same thing.” He massaged the scar, his movements light and tender. It felt nice. “How about I take you in next time? That way I don’t have to stalk you.”

I glared. “You’re not going to start treating me like a breakable doll.”

He wrapped his arms around me, lowered his head, and buried his face in my hair. I was seated between his thighs on the family room couch with my back to his chest. “Why not? You’re a delicate Mortal, and I never want you to feel any pain again. Besides, you got hurt because of me.”

“Hmm, let me think about that.” I scrunched up my face. “One, I won’t be Mortal for long, and that’s something you must accept. Second, it was definitely
not
your fault. Third, you’re not going to the hospital with me. My PT finally got enough guts to mention what happened at the meet. I have a feeling next time he’ll ask me outright how I’d known the swimmers would get hurt, and I don’t want you scaring him and making him think the worst. I plan to give him a reasonable answer in a calm voice.”

Torin had gone still as soon as I’d mentioned the meet. “Okay.”