This is part TWO of the same book under the same title.
Tora never asked to be a Lunos and he certainly didn't ask for three mates.
***
As the weakest member of his house, Tora has always been a lone wolf. He's never been the smartest, the bravest...
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~Casper~
Four Years Earlier
"What do you think?"
"I think you're crazy,"
I commented as Tora showed me his brand new motorcycle in the same model as mine but in a dark red color, holding his full-face helmet with a look of excitement that has me absolutely panicked.
"What do you mean?" He asks as he sits his tiny little self on top of the massive bike that in no way shape or form was for beginners.
"Tora, you just learned how to drive a car like a year ago, motorcycles aren't the same. It's very dangerous," I warn, wanting nothing more than to pluck him off it and put him on solid ground.
"What? But you do it all the time...I just thought maybe you could share your passion with me you know?" Tora sighed and I cross my arms. He's just so tiny that if he got into an accident at 5 mph we could lose him.
"I know, but we don't have to share passions. There are some things I can keep to myself, with this being one of them," I try to persuade him away, but now any excitement he held very quickly died once he realized I was serious.
"Oh," is all he says as he traces the top vents of his new helmet and I sigh.
"You're too small baby. This bike is heavy you know? I'm telling you right now you can't handle it," I bluntly told him and he got off the bike, putting the helmet down on the seat before walking away from me.
"I'm sorry for trying,"
***
"I'm going to be late at this point,"
I groan as I sit at the red light on my bike, waiting for it to turn blue while also trying to use this drive to clear my head. But it wasn't doing shit for my head with Galen practically taking over every single part of my brain. I rub my neck where my new mark still aches and a tingle runs down my spine, but it's not from the mark.
Illegally cutting through the centerline to get to me, a suspicious man rolls up beside me riding a very familiar red sports motorcycle. I tilt my head to look over, unable to see his face behind the tinted full face identical to my own. His black leather jacket doing wonders for his muscular frame. Although something about the all-black outfit struck me as odd, almost as if he was trying to hide from someone.
I thought I knew my husband until I saw this man and truly didn't recognize him.
He's bigger than my husband or maybe it's just been a while since I last took a serious look at my husband. But he suits the crimson-colored bike well with his leather gloved hand rested on his knee as he used his feet to balance, both of us waiting for the light to change.
