Page 4 of Luna Cursed

Tor looked down at the woman in his bed in dirty jeans and a plain black bra. She was going to be furious when she woke up and found out they had a bond. Tor still couldn't find it in him to regret it. He could see the healing abilities he had given her through the bond already working. He unlaced her boots and slid them off her feet before drawing a blanket over her. He stumbled to the couch and was asleep as soon as his head hit the cushions.

3

Ciara woke with her body on fire and her mouth dry as dust. She cracked an eye open and tried to lift her head from the soft pillow under her head.

"Where the fuck am I?" she mumbled.

It had been a long time since she had woken up in a strange place and missing her shirt. Her vision cleared, and she tried to take in the neat bedroom. The walls and ceiling were pine, and her bed was made of repurposed timber. Out of the windows, she saw a lake and trees.

Ciara tried to sit up, wincing at the pain burning through her neck and shoulder. She tried to think, but her head didn't seem to want to clear.

"You might want to go slow," a deep voice said. Torsten was standing in the doorway, his hair a long golden tumble around his broad shoulders. With his gray eyes, clipped golden beard, and wide chest, he was a Viking god wet dream. Ciara would know because she'd had more than one.

He was wearing a red and black flannel shirt with a few too many buttons undone and faded jeans, a combination that did weird things to Ciara's libido that she didn't understand.

Am I still dreaming?Ciara frowned up at him.

"Hey, don't glare at me like that, Wolf Slayer. You came to me, remember?" he said with a grin.

"No, I don't remember," she croaked. She struggled to sit up again, and two big hands were suddenly helping her upright.

"Here, drink some water before you try snarling at me," Tor suggested, holding a cup out to her.

Ciara gripped it, but it felt like she didn't have a drop of strength in her entire body. She managed to get it to her mouth without it sloshing everywhere. It was the best thing she had ever tasted. She drained it, and some of the fog began to clear. She had been driving around Oslo and had been truly scared for the first time since she was a girl.

"Where am I?" she said once the glass was empty. Tor took it from her and placed it on the nightstand.

"Ulfheim. Well, just outside of it. You came to my apartment in Oslo and said Varg had bitten you. You were…" Tor's eyes gleamed with a feral wolf light for a moment before it vanished. "You were bleeding out. I got Alruna to come and get us. I took you to the Ulfheðnar Völva to heal you."

Ciara touched the bandages that were covering her neck and shoulder. There was a strange herbal smell rising from them. "I was bit."

The room swirled around her with all that it implied. Lachie was going to kill her. Literally. They had a pact from when they were kids that if either of them turned, the other one would put them down with a silver bullet to the brain. Tears filled her eyes.

"I'm going to be sick," she said, struggling to get out of bed.

Tor was beside her in a second. She couldn't fight him as he plucked her out of bed and carried her into the adjoining bathroom. He placed her on her feet, and she gripped the basin with one hand and pushed him away with the other.

"Get out. I don't need an audience."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to help you wipe anything," Tor teased, closing the door behind him. "Try not to fall over and bash your head."

Ciara sank to her knees in front of the toilet bowl, getting the lid open before vomiting. She clung to her pounding head, and her memories started to come back thick and fast.

Ciara had been hunting Varg. He had escaped the battlefield and still had followers in Norway. She had been awake in Svartalfheim and had overheard Tor telling Layla how Varg had stolen his sister. It had churned around her head for days afterward. She couldn't help but think how if it had been Lachlan, she wouldn't have been half as calm. She had gone to work, investigating Linnea's disappearance for herself. She had looked through all of Varg's last known locations and had done what she did best.

Then Ciara had found Varg and a group of his followers in Onsøy, and everything became a blur of claws and blades and searing pain. She had gotten one dagger in him and sprayed him with wolfsbane; it had been enough to get the shifter off her. She had made it to her car and driven with only one goal—to get to safety and tell Tor that his sister was still alive. She had thought she was going to die.

No such luck. The wolf couldn't help being a hero and saving your ass. Fuck, it was embarrassing. She didn't even want to think about why her painfilled, panicked body had associated him with safety, either.

Ciara flushed the toilet, and with considerable effort, she wriggled out of her dirty clothes and climbed into the bathtub. She was starting to shiver, the shock hitting her hard enough to make her teeth chatter. Hot water rushed over her legs, and she groaned in relief.

"Are you okay in there?" Tor asked through the door. Ciara pulled her knees up to her chest as the door cracked open. "I'm not looking, just putting a fresh towel here and something for you to wear."

"Thanks," she said, knowing he was just trying to help.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Ciara sniffed, horrified that tears were building up in her eyes. "Don't suppose you have anything alcoholic?"

---