Page 36 of Thor

I met his eyes, letting him see my vulnerability for once. "For seeing me." Both sides of me, I meant. All of me.

Thor's expression softened in a way that transformed his entire face, making him look younger, gentler. "Always," he promised.

Chapter 7

Thor

Mybootsworeapath in the hardwood floor as I paced from the living room to the window and back again. The clock on the wall ticked like a bomb, each second she was late another sharp jab to my gut. Twenty-three minutes now. Mandy was never normally late. Not for work, not for dinner, not for anything that mattered. My fingers tapped against my thigh, a rhythm of anxiety I couldn't shake, while my mind constructed increasingly dark scenarios for why she hadn't returned from the hospital.

I checked my watch for the third time in five minutes. The leather band felt too tight around my wrist, as if keeping time itself was choking me.

"Fuck," I muttered, stepping to the window again.

Nothing but darkness, trees, and the empty gravel driveway that led to my cabin. No headlights. No sign of Wiz's truck. The woods surrounding my property had always felt like protection before—a buffer between me and the world. Tonight, they felt like a barrier keeping Mandy from getting back to me.

I forced myself to move away from the window, trying to channel this restless energy into something productive. The dining table was covered with club paperwork—profit reports from King's Tavern, security schedules for the upcoming motorcycle rally, and employee timesheets from Iron Kings Auto. Mandy had organized everything into neat stacks before leaving this morning, color-coded tabs marking important sections for my review.

I pulled out a chair and sat down hard, picking up the first folder. The numbers blurred before my eyes. I couldn't focus worth shit. My mind kept drifting back to two days ago, standing in this same room with Mandy after our motorcycle lesson.

She'd been flushed with excitement, her hair wild from the helmet, green eyes bright with accomplishment. When I'd told her she was a natural, her smile hit me like a punch to the chest. Something had shifted between us in that moment—a tension that had been building for weeks finally cracking open.

The kiss was gentle at first—careful—but when she sighed against my mouth, something primal took over. My hands found her waist, pulling her tight against me. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan. She tasted like strawberries and possibility, her body soft where mine was hard. For one perfect moment, she melted against me completely.

Then she'd pulled back suddenly, eyes wide with something like panic.

I hadn't pushed. Wouldn't push. Whatever was happening between us needed to unfold at her pace, not mine. But the memory of that kiss had haunted me for the past forty-eight hours, replaying in my head when I should've been sleeping.

I slammed the folder shut and pushed back from the table. This wasn't working. I needed to move, to do something with my hands before I went crazy with worry.

The kitchen seemed as good a place as any to channel my restlessness. I yanked open the refrigerator door, the cool air a welcome shock against my overheated skin. Beef, vegetables, potatoes—I could make a decent stew. Cooking had always calmed me, the precision and rhythm of it a meditation I could lose myself in.

As I reached for the beef, I thought about the small plastic unicorn keychain I'd found on the floor after our motorcycle lesson. It didn’t necessarily mean anything—lots of grown women liked cute characters and items. But something about Mandy—the way she reacted when I called her “Princess”, the way she organized her colored pens, the way her speech patterns changed when she was tired or felt safe—all of it added up to something for me.

She could be a Little.

If I was right about Mandy—if she was a Little looking for safety—I wouldn't rush her. Trust like that had to be earned, especially from someone as controlled and careful as she was.

A flash of light through the window pulled me from my thoughts, stopping me before I could start to cook. Headlights, finally turning up the drive. Relief washed through me, loosening the knot that had been tightening in my chest for the past half hour.

I was out the door before the truck came to a complete stop, moving down the porch steps with purpose. The truck stopped and the passenger door opened, before Mandy stepped out. She looked shell-shocked, half-asleep, like she was ready to pass out.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied, with a long, sigh. “I’m gonna go in. I’m tired out.”

“Sure.”

It felt like whatever had happened at the hospital today had broken something in her.

Wiz waited until Mandy had walked past us and into the cabin before he spoke.

“Hey Thor.” His calloused fingers drummed once against the truck's door. “Tough day.” The lines in his face cut deeper than usual, shadows pooling beneath his eyes.

"Everything alright?" I asked, my attention split between him and the cabin door that had just closed behind Mandy.

"Security-wise, yeah." Wiz nodded, scrubbing a hand over his silver-streaked beard. "No suspicious vehicles, no tails. Made three extra turns coming back, just to be certain."

"And?" I prompted, knowing there was more. The old man didn't look this worn out from simple security precautions.

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