Page 75 of Prince of Storms
“I know. I remember,” he said.
I blushed at the memory of what we’d done in there such a short time ago. My body burned just thinking of the things he’d done, the pleasure I’d experienced by his hands and mouth and from his long, hard cock as it penetrated me, filling me completely until I could take no more, whimpering and moaning as he stretched me more than I’d ever been before.
Yet he’d been a slow, sensual lover, building me up to the moment, letting my body get used to it. I’d never experienced anything like him before, and it had left me breathless then and was making me breathe harder now.
“I didn’t bring you here for that,” Tor said, dumping a bucket of water over my burgeoning arousal.
“Then why?” I asked, following him into the room, noting the sheets were still rumpled from the night before and that evidence of our … activities … was still stained on them.
Oops.
“To see this,” he said, pointing to one wall, where a full-length mirror rested.
“A mirror?”
“This is the Watching Mirror,” he said. “One of four created by the God-King and given to each clan to help the princes look after their territory, among other things.”
“Ah, the mirror that apparently said we’re meant to be together, is that it?” I asked.
He nodded. “Step in front of it. Tell me what you see.”
I look at him, then at the mirror.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to look into your mirror. I don’t need to know what it might or might not say. You could have enchanted it, for all I know. Thank you, but I’d like to go home now, Tor.”
He started to protest but quieted when he saw my face.
“Very well,” he said a bit stiffly.
We left the room and headed to the garage in awkward silence. I tried to ignore my churning stomach as we walked. I didn’t want to be rude or mean, but I knew what I wanted. Whatever I saw in that mirror, it wouldn’t change the fact that I had to leave it all behind for my own good. What purpose was there in even looking? Nothing good would come of it.
“I don’t see my car,” I said, looking around. “Is it up front?”
“No idea,” Tor said, opening the key box on the wall near the entrance and tossing me a set.
I grabbed them. “What is this?”
“Take it,” he said.
I looked at the keys. The unique Chevrolet logo stared back at me.
It can’t be …
I hit the lock button, and off to my right, the ‘71 Chevelle beeped in recognition.
“You can have it,” he said with a shrug. “Hopefully, that will make you happy, at least.”
There was a heavy “even if I can’t” attached to that sentence. I stared at him, then at the keys, then the car, feeling a bit guilty. What the hell did I do? The cost of the car was nothing to him, but I didn’t think I could justaccepthim giving it to me.
“I will pay you,” I said.
“No, you won’t,” he said. “It’s yours. Take it. Take it and run. Drive as far away from me as you can. Until you aren’t afraid anymore.”
I jerked, stung by his comment. Not because he was wrong, but because it was too close to the truth, and he was calling me out on it.
“I will,” I said, storming over to the car, deciding to take advantage of his generosity after all. “And I’m never coming back.”
I got in, adjusted the seat and mirrors to suit a normal person's size, and turned the car on. It rumbled to life with a throaty roar that settled into an impressive purr. No wonder my mom had been “caught” by my dad when he drove it.
