Page 78 of Manic

Tor's brow furrows, and he props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me.

His dark hair is tousled from sleep, and I can see the edge of his skull tattoo peeking out from under the sheets. "I'm sorry, Meg. Do you want me to get you some painkillers?"

I nod weakly, immediately regretting the movement as a fresh wave of pain washes over me. "Please," I whisper.

As Tor slides out of bed and pads towards the bathroom, I take stock of my surroundings.

The room is simple but comfortable, with dark wood furniture and deep green walls.

It suits Tor, I think.

Masculine and no-nonsense, but with an unexpected touch of warmth.

I try to sit up, but my body protests vehemently.

A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and Tor is instantly back at my side, a glass of water in one hand and pills in the other.

"Easy there," he murmurs, setting the items on the nightstand. "Let me help you."

With infinite care, he slides an arm behind my shoulders, supporting me as he helps me into a sitting position.

The movement sends fresh waves of pain through my body, and I can't help but wince.

"I've got you," Tor says, his voice a soothing rumble.

He hands me the pills and then the water, watching closely as I swallow them down.

"Thanks," I manage, leaning back against the headboard.

The cool wood feels good against my aching muscles.

Tor settles back on the bed next to me, his hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do you remember much about yesterday?" he asks cautiously.

I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. "Some," I admit. "It's all a bit... hazy."

"That's normal," Tor assures me. "You took quite a hit."

I nod slowly, memories of the attack at the clubhouse flashing through my mind.

The fear, the pain, the chaos... I shudder involuntarily, and Tor's grip on my hand tightens.

"You're safe now," he says firmly, as if reading my thoughts. "I promise you, Meghan. No one's going to hurt you here."

I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe him.

But a lifetime of running, of always looking over my shoulder, isn't easy to shake off. "I know," I say instead, not meeting his eyes.

Tor sighs, and I can feel his gaze on me. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know," he says softly. "It's okay to be scared. Hell, after what you've been through, I'd be worried if you weren't."

His words catch me off guard, and I look up at him.

There's no judgment in his eyes, just understanding and something else... something that makes my heart skip a beat.

"I'm not used to this," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Having someone... care."

Tor's expression softens, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face. "Well, get used to it," he says, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, we just look at each other, and I feel something stronger than ever between us.

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