Page 12 of Scornful

I nod, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at the memory of Geirolf standing shirtless in the parking lot, the moonlight illuminating that tattoo that covers half his chest.

The man is built like a Norse god, all hard muscles and strength.

"Where's Dad?" I ask, desperate to change the subject.

"In the garage," Charm replies, still eyeing me suspiciously. "Working on his bike."

"I'll go tell him we're here," Emil says, disappearing before I can stop him.

Great.

I’ll bet we have ten minutes tops before my father comes storming in demanding blood.

"Are you hungry?" Charm asks, her tone softening. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Starving," I admit.

She links her arm through mine, leading me to the kitchen. "Then let's get you fed. Oskar's coming too, and Ingrid should be back from volleyball practice any minute."

The kitchen is warm and inviting, the heart of our family home.

It's where we've always gathered—for meals, for celebrations, for comfort when the world feels too hard to bear.

The large oak table is already set for dinner, and the lasagna in the oven smells like heaven.

"So," Charm says casually as she checks on the garlic bread, "Geirolf, huh?"

I groan, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs. "It wasn't like that. He was just helping me out."

Charm shoots me a look over her shoulder. "Uh-huh. And I'm sure the fact that he's one of the most attractive men in the club has nothing to do with the blush on your cheeks right now."

"Mom, ssshh!" I go over to her and whisper, "The last thing I need is for Dad to hear you say that shi–"

I immediately stop the second she glares at me.

"You know the rules. Cuss like a sailor at the club, at Bubba’s, but good gods, at least give me the decency of a cuss-free house."

I sigh. "Sorry, I just don’t want Dad hearing that crap, you know? He’s protective as all heck."

She laughs, the sound light and genuine. "That he is, and I'm married, not blind. The man looks like he could have stepped straight out ofVikings."

I can't help but laugh too, my body finally relaxing since I was in the parking lot.

This is why I've always loved Charm.

She never tried to replace my mother after she died, but she became something just as important—a friend, a confidante, someone who sees me as I am and loves me anyway, but I call her my mom because that’s what she is—my mother, just a bonus one.

"He was pretty incredible," I admit, keeping my voice low even though we're alone. "The way he handled Laken... it was like watching a force of nature. One minute Laken's in my face, the next he's practically pissing himself while Geirolf pins him against a car."

A shiver runs down my spine at the memory of Geirolf's ice-blue eyes, cold and deadly as he dealt with Laken.

Charm sets a glass of red wine in front of me. "That's the look I'm talking about," she says with a grin. "The dreamy-eyed, 'I'm imagining him naked' look."

"I am not!" I spit out, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

"Are not what?" Oskar asks, striding into the kitchen with a wicked grin.

At twenty-seven, my middle brother is Dad's carbon copy—built like a fucking brick wall with a face that could scare the shit out of most men.

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