RAGNAR #3
Despite what I told myself earlier, promising to steer clear of him, I’m just standing there, struck.
I feel like I’ve been caught in some kind of spell.
Not one he cast on purpose. He’s clearly in no mood to flirt; his cheeks are still streaked with tears.
And yet, none of it makes him any less beautiful.
Can someone this breathtaking even exist?
He’s dressed differently than before, more guarded, in a black buttoned-up shirt and black jeans.
Looking at him now, I get the sense he’s even younger than I originally guessed. What the hell is someone like him doing in The Sun?
A sudden wave of dread shoots through me. A disturbing thought strikes: what if Ferro brought him in as a replacement for Summer?
And if that’s the case… maybe Summer’s no longer useful to him. Maybe he’s planning to just get rid of him. Or worse, already did.
What if I’m standing face to face with the beautiful reason my brother’s days are numbered?
I start to turn away, but then I hear:
"Hey, wait."
He stands up. He’s of decent height for an alpha, but still almost a head shorter than me.
With some effort, I school my face to stay neutral as he approaches, quickly wiping away his tears.
"Besides working as a gardener… are you also one of Mr. Ferro’s sworn soldiers?"
Did not expect that. So blunt, so direct; it doesn’t fit the profile of someone sent to spy on me. Or does it?
"I’m just a gardener. I’m not connected to him in any other way," I reply, keeping my tone flat.
He hesitates, glances toward the house, then steps further back into the gazebo and gestures for me to follow.
I look around. No one can see us here. The garden’s big, and the central part around the gazebo is screened off by bushes and trees.
Somewhat reluctantly, I step inside after him. Now it’s just the two of us.
Silence falls. He stares at me for a long moment, studying me intently.
Damn, he really is stunning. I could look at him for hours. Like a piece of art: deceptive, a siren. You get dazzled by the beauty, and then you crash against the rocks.
"Nice tattoo," he says, making a small gesture toward my bicep with his chin.
"Thanks."
"Some kind of falcon?"
"Yep. Gyrfalcon. Icelandic bird of prey."
"It’s beautiful."
I don’t respond. What should I say?
"Means something personal?"
Hell no. I won’t reveal that. It’s not a secret Anzo’s husband is of Icelandic origin. It could raise some suspicion. I have already hinted too much.
So I just shrug. "Just liked the design."
The young alpha bites his lip and seems to think deeply about something. Suddenly, he blurts out,
"I’m Sun Nolan."
He says it with a peculiar tone, like he wants me to remember the name or at least notice it.
I know one Nolan, Lieutenant Hunter Nolan, but I’m almost certain this isn’t his brother. Hunter only has one sibling, Nathaniel, and I know him a bit. So the last name might just be a coincidence.
"Ragnar Lind."
I use my real first name. No idea why, especially since on my job application here, I wrote down Raghu Lind.
"I want you to remember my name," the guy says.
"Why?" I raise an eyebrow.
He hesitates, glancing toward the house.
"If I tell you… will you report it to Anzo Ferro?"
I tilt my head. Is this some kind of game? What the hell is he getting at? A test? Or something else?
I take a step back.
"You don’t have to tell me anything. I need to get back to work."
I turn and start to walk away, but his hand shoots out and grabs me.
The moment his skin touches mine, an intense rush of electric current shoots through my whole body.
For a second, it makes me dizzy, like being on high.
Whoa!
No, hold on. We’re both alphas, so the First Touch that happens between True Mates should be close to impossible.
But still… whatever that was, it felt so fucking good. And immediately made me want more. So I let out a loud breath, and so does he, as if we both want to release some steam.
"Listen, I need to ask you for something," he blurts out.
A favor?
Oh great. Here we go. So it is a test, after all.
I can almost taste the bitterness rising in my throat, because I’d started to hope, deep down, that maybe this wasn’t a setup.
Fuck. I can’t lose focus.
"Sorry, but I can’t accept any requests beyond my duties as a gardener."
Needing to put some space between us, I turn, but he doesn't let me! He makes another step toward me, and his fingers land on my forearm again.
The shiver is back. For a second I give in, don’t fight it. I accept the waves of pleasant heat that roll over my body, making me lightheaded.
The energy in the gazebo is shifting, getting weird. Intense. I stare at his hand, mesmerized. His scent, sweet like orange flowers, envelops me…
What the fuck?
I force myself to stir awake from this madness and almost jump back.
Our eyes meet, the intensity is incredible. Electricity seems to swirl in the air around us.
Despite putting distance between us, I still can’t shake that touch. My body’s practically on edge, buzzing, waiting for release, tingling with need. But that can’t happen. This guy’s clearly here for a reason: to figure me out. It’s starting to feel obvious.
Frowning, I step out of the gazebo, and adjust my pants. They’re uncomfortably tight around the crotch. Again!
Shit. This is ridiculous. I’ve never been struck like that before. It has to be some kind of magic. He’s beautiful, sure, but that’s the most foolish reason to risk any mission, especially one that could save actual lives.
With a low, annoyed growl, I quickly look around the gazebo to make sure no one noticed I was there.
But the moment I close my eyes for a second, I see his slender fingers wrapped around my forearm, feel that sweet shiver that ran through every cell in my body.
It really felt like I would imagine the legendary First Touch!
But come on, I’m on heavy suppressants. That would dull it completely anyway.
So it’s probably just the sexual frustration.
I haven’t been with anyone in a year, and I’m so pent-up I could explode.
Now cleaning the gazebo will have to wait. I can’t be in there with him, no fucking way.
Walking away with quick strides, I promise myself I’ll come back in the evening, just before the end of my shift, hoping he’ll be gone by then.
What I need is a solid slap on the head and a long jerking off session.
Because this? This is not me.
Whatever possesses me has to go, or it’ll be the death of me.