Page 16 of Thor

I stared at the text, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. It wasn't a question or an offer. It was a statement of fact, as though taking care of me was now his responsibility.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, mind racing. What was the appropriate response? A professional "Thank you for your assistance" felt too cold after everything that had happened. A casual "Great, see you then" felt too familiar.

I typed and deleted five different responses before eventually settling on simple gratitude.

"Thank you."

The response came almost immediately.

"Get some sleep, princess."

Princess.

What did he mean by that?

Probably nothing. Probably just what he said to people. There was no way that he had worked out I was a Little. Or had he somehow seen through me? Had Mr. Hoppy and the unicorn keychain revealed more than I realized?

The questions swirled in my exhausted brain, but I couldn't muster the energy to analyze them. I set my sippy cup aside and curled up in the bean bag, Mr. Hoppy tucked securely under my chin. The string lights twinkled overhead like stars.

My eyes grew heavy, the day's events finally catching up with me. As I drifted toward sleep, I imagined those same hands stroking my hair, that deep voice calling me "princess" again. Not mockingly, but with understanding. With acceptance.

It was a dangerous thought to fall asleep to.

Chapter 4

Mandy

Ijerkedawakewithagasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. In my dream, metal twisted and glass shattered around me, the screech of tires on wet asphalt still echoing in my ears. My t-shirt clung to my skin, damp with cold sweat. A nightmare. A bad one. The clock on my nightstand read 7:32 AM – Saturday morning, and I already felt exhausted.

The accident last night must have rattled me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw headlights cutting through rain, heard the sickening crunch as my car spun out. My subconscious wouldn't let me forget how close I'd come to serious injury.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, desperate for coffee. My apartment felt too quiet, too empty. The silence left too much room for my mind to replay the crash. I needed noise, distraction, anything to drown out the thoughts circling like vultures.

Saturdays were for Amy. My sister needed me, especially now with her latest round of treatment hitting her hard. Last night, Thor had said that he’d had my car towed, and that he’d fix it. He'd also said that he’d get me transport today. But he wasn’t here. Maybe I could get a rental? I reached for my phone, but as I did, the doorbell buzzed. The noise made me jump, sloshing coffee onto my sleep shirt. "Shit," I muttered, setting down the mug and wiping at the dark stain spreading across my chest.

Could that be Thor?

I grabbed the first decent clothes I could find – black jeans and an emerald green blouse that made my eyes look greener than they actually were. Professional enough for the hospital, comfortable enough for a long day of pretending I wasn't worried sick about my sister.

The videophone buzzed again as I was buttoning my blouse. I swiped the screen, half expecting the building manager or maybe a delivery person with the wrong apartment.

Instead, to my unexpected delight, I saw Thor. My breath caught in my throat.

He filled the lobby, his massive frame making everything around him seem small. Even through the grainy security feed, his presence was undeniable. Last night he'd rescued me from the side of the road, given me a ride on his motorcycle that still made my skin tingle when I thought about it.

"Can I come up?" His voice was a low rumble, even through the tinny speaker.

"Um, yes. Fourteenth floor. Apartment 1403." I pressed the button to unlock the lobby door, then frantically looked around my apartment. It wasn't messy, just . . . lived in. I shoved a few throw pillows into place and stuffed a stray pair of fuzzy socks between couch cushions.

The wait for the elevator to deliver him seemed endless. I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror—hair still damp from sleep, hastily combed with my fingers; minimal makeup failing to hide the dark circles under my eyes or the fading cut on my forehead from the accident. I looked exactly like what I was: a woman barely holding things together.

Three sharp knocks on my door made me flinch. I smoothed my blouse, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Thor barely fit through the doorframe. Six-foot-four of solid muscle and intimidating male presence. He'd pulled his blond hair back in a messy bun that somehow looked intentional rather than haphazard. His dark jeans and black Henley stretched across broad shoulders, highlighting the heavy tattoos that covered his arms. The leather cut with the Heavy Kings MC patches hung open over his shirt.

"Morning, princess," he said, his intense blue eyes taking in my appearance. "Sleep okay?"

"I've had better nights," I admitted, stepping back to let him in. He didn't move.

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