Page 13 of Luna Cursed

Ciara was gripping one of the steak knives, but she didn't remember even going for the blade. Something about the woman's possessive staring at Tor set her teeth on edge, and it had been an automatic reaction.

"Petra, we aren't fated. I don't know what lies your father told you over the years, but I'm not changing my mind. Who I bond with is my fucking business, mating bond or otherwise," Tor said, his voice dropping to a growl.

Petra's eyes were fixed on Ciara. "I don't know what spell you've put on him, but I will break it and the bond between you, one way or another. You're dead."

Ciara smiled but said nothing. She didn't need to. Tor's snarl had enough alpha in it to send the two wolves scampering off into the forest. Petra shot one more baleful glare at Ciara before shifting and vanishing after her brothers.

"Well, she's as delightful as I remember," Arne said. He pulled out his phone and started texting. "I'll let my mother know we are on our way. Probably a good idea for you to go to Oslo and let this blow over?"

Tor was still watching the trees. He shook himself before turning. His eyes were fixed on Ciara and the knife she was holding. He smiled a little.

"Planning on being my backup?"

Ciara shrugged. "I didn't like her tone. You should have told her you'll remove the bond at full moon."

Tor's eyes darkened and locked her down. "That's between us and none of their business. If she threatens you again, I'll deal with it."

"No,Iwill deal with it," Ciara replied. Something told her Petra wouldn't stop with threats. "Are you two really fated?"

"No fucking chance," Tor replied.

"How do you know? She seemed pretty sure just now." Ciara didn't know why she felt compelled to ask.

Tor gave her a pointed look. "Trust me. I fucking know. I'm going to pack a bag. The sooner we leave, the better."

Arne waited until Tor had disappeared inside before turning to Ciara. "I hope you are ready for the storm that's about to hit you," he said.

Ciara gathered up the empty plates. "I'm not scared of Petra. If she wants a fight, I'll be happy to oblige."

Arne looked like he was about to say something, changed his mind, and shut his mouth again. Layla got up and helped Ciara clear the table.

"Well, at least dinner was good. Do you want a cool elvish dagger to take on the hunt?" she asked. Layla was going for normality, but Ciara was too tense for that.

Ciara's eyes drifted to the dark trees around her, and protective instincts rushed through her. She really hadn't liked the possessive way Petra had looked at Tor, like he was a hunk of meat to be fought over.

Ciara wouldn't let Tor step in for her like that again, either. The next time a wolf came to pick a fight, Ciara would give it to them.

7

Tor was a tensed-up ball of frustration and fury. He had only begun to unwind when Petra decided to crash their dinner. He thought it would take longer for the word to get around about Ciara, but he should have known better.

Tor tossed some things into a bag that he thought he might need and didn't have at his apartment. He didn't really want anything extra; he needed the excuse to walk away and try and think straight again. Easier said than done.

Ciara had looked ready to take her steak knife and skin Petra. He could smell the aggression and over-protectiveness that he never would have expected from her. It was a hit he hadn't seen coming, just like her insistence that he remove the mark on her after the full moon. He had known she would want it gone, but it still got under his skin.

Tor messaged Bayn about opening a portal to Mardøll and received a thumbs up. Tor didn't want to leave. He wanted to keep Ciara to himself and ensure she didn't get hurt again. The wolves wouldn't give him that option. Not now that Petra had probably run off to the council to complain. He ran his hands over his face.

"Fuckkkk," he groaned. He took three deep breaths to steady himself before grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He didn't have time for a pity party.

Ciara was in the kitchen with Layla, chatting and turning the dishwasher on. It was a strangely domestic moment that made something hurt in Tor's chest.

His childhood home had never had laughing women in the kitchen. His mother had walked out after one beating too many and had left Tor and Linnea behind. Tor knew his father would have hunted her to the ends of the earth if she had tried to take them. It still didn't make him feel less abandoned.

Ciara's gaze flicked to him, and her brows drew together. She was picking up his moods through the bond already. "You okay?"

"Yes. Thank you for cleaning up, ladies," Tor said quickly, giving them a relaxed smile.

"Thank you for cooking," Layla replied, flicking him with the dish towel. "You ready to go? Alruna is waiting for us."

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