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He could have grabbed me when I pulled away.
He didn’t.
He could have demanded Grant’s name until I gave in.
He stopped.
For a man who looks capable of snapping a telephone pole in half, he’s been remarkably careful with me.
Still.
“Look, Vidar. I appreciate the concern, but you can’t just follow me home.”
His expression turns serious.
“You are bleeding. You are frightened. And you are mine to protect.”
Every muscle in my body tightens.
“Excuse me?”
He notices immediately.
The shift in my posture.
The way I take half a step backward.
His gaze moves over my face, and something changes in his expression.
Understanding.
He lowers his voice.
“Mine to protect, if you allow it.”
I blink.
He waits.
No pressure.
No demand.
Just a seven-foot naked god standing patiently in a ruined courtyard, giving me a choice.
Well, hell.
That’s a first.
I exhale.
“Fine. You can walk me home.”
His mouth curves.
“But we have rules.”
“Name them.”
