Page 30 of Prince of Storms
An unwelcome and somewhat nervous thought entered my mind as I followed Tor inside, where he immediately relaxed. Was it possible thatTorhad sabotaged my car in an attempt to keep me here? I had a moment of mild panic as I tried to tell myself he was a good guy, that he wouldn’t do something like that.
When he actually took me to the garage, without stopping at a room and “suggesting” I stay the night, my pulse slowed noticeably. Tor shot me a glance when I exhaled a breath with perhaps a bit of extra relief sowed in it, but he didn’t say anything.
“It’s here now,” I said as he led me among the rows and past one vehicle, in particular, its strong front end so very reminiscent of a certain age of muscle cars.
“Yes, it was delivered this afternoon,” Tor said. “And soon enough, it’ll be yours.”
“My father’s,” I said, though it didn’t matter. It was all the same. I stared at it longingly. Would he drive me home in it just to torture me? To remind me why I was there, working away at his dirty-ass abandoned house.
“Why did your family let this place fall into ruin?” I asked as we headed for the same SUV as before.
“What?”
“The house. Mansion. Whatever you call it. Why did your family just leave it be for so long? Ty said it’s been in your family since it was built, but obviously, nobody was here for ages. Why is that?”
“We just weren’t,” he said, refusing to elaborate. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
I hopped into the truck with only a twinge of regret at not taking the Chevelle. Of course, I didn’t want him to get into an accident in it or put extra wear and tear on it, so it was probably for the best. But a part of me wouldn’t have minded cruising along in it.
We drove up the curved ramp that led around the side of the house, joining up with the main driveway, and headed back for the street. Tor kept himself forward, constantly leaning to the side or forward toward the windshield, looking around nonstop.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, again trying to figure out why he was so on edge.
He turned and gave me that brilliant, disarming smile, the same one that set my heart racing and made the blood race from my head to between my legs with near alarming ease.
“Not at all,” he said, reaching over to pat my leg in reassurance.
His fingers were warm to the touch, a pleasant contrast with the slight cool from the air conditioning. I didn’t say anything as his hand lingered on my thigh for several seconds longer than perhaps was appropriate. It was easier to just not say anything at all, I figured.
When he finally removed it, I looked out the window, staring at the side of the road as we drove, some new mumble-pop artist playing softly in the background, the words completely unintelligible. Tor, as always, was continually looking around. I could see his reflection in the window courtesy of the dim light from the dash screen. Always his head was twisting this way and that.
What was he looking for, I wondered, staring past the window and out into the—
“Oh, my god,” I gasped, sitting upright as something flashed past the window, cold fear plunging its fingers into my stomach and twisting.
“What? What is it?” Tor growled.
“I just thought …” I shook my head. “No, it’s impossible. But I thought I saw a woman back there. Staring at us. Except … her eyes … they glowed. Like with light. It was the weirdest thing.”
“Probably just your imagination,” Tor said, dismissing it with a chuckle that wasn’t as easy coming as either of us wanted.
We were both on edge. I sat still, staring out the front windshield, while Tor worked his grip around the steering wheel, holding it tighter than before.
Thankfully, the rest of the ride back into the city went smoothly. No more car troubles, no ghosts in the window, nothing. Even Tor rode a bit more easily when we pulled up in front of my house, where the lights were on.
“Someone home?”
The question was innocuous enough, but I sensed an ulterior motive behind it. A quest for more information. Why would he care if someone was home?
He wants to know who I live with. If they’re roommates or perhaps a boyfriend.
“My friend Ally lives here,” I said, “with her husband and their child. I rent out a room from her.”
“Oh,” he said, a hint of relief slipping through his guard.
I tried to ignore that he was happy I didn’t live with another man. Well, so was I, and I intended to keep it that way.
He put the car in park, and I got out. So did he.
