His own agony forgotten in an instant, sheer instinct took over. Instinct that had been drilled into him long before Tartarus had broken him.
Týr barreled into the scourges, sending them flying back. They leaped to their feet, eyes gleaming like twin blood-moons in the dark. No, not blood demons—worse. Demoniis. They stole souls and drained their victims.
Týr head-butted the one in front of him. Adrenaline spiking, he snatched a dagger off the ground and leaped up, blade flashing. He severed heads from necks. Bodies fell, turning to ash. Suddenly, everything froze, except for him and the other males there. His wariness came back tenfold. Was it time to die?
For some reason, he didn’t want these males he faintly recalled from another life witnessing his brutal death, didn’t want them remembering his dishonor. To know that he was responsible for their horrific imprisonment. He retreated to the edge of the trees.
Impossible power surrounded him and had him dropping to his knees. He sighed in resignation. The end was close. His head lowered, he stared blankly at the dagger in his hand, the demonii’s black blood having disappeared.
“You have no need to linger, archangel,” a female said from afar. Týr frowned.
“I will remain.”
“Very well. Arise, fallen warriors from the godly realm.”
The others in the front pushed to their feet. Týr remained where he was. Why bother to stand when death was his end?
“You’ve encountered evil that has taken to destroying my realm and, in your almost mortal state, you have defeated them.” Invisible fingers gently touched his whiskered jaw and lifted up his chin. Glowing green eyes embraced him, even from a distance.
A tall female unlike any he’d seen, stood in the clearing, glowing so brightly, like she had a halo—no, it was her hair, bright like the sun—and her bronze skin resembled the earth. Odd green markings coiled around her eyebrows and down her cheeks like plants in spring, reminding Týr of new life, of hope.
This had to be a dream.
His gaze dropped once more. He hated these hallucinations when his reality was sheer hell.
A slender hand appeared beneath his lowered gaze, palm faced up. As if he had no control of his limbs, he dropped the blade he held. Before he touched her fingers, the woman pointed to his severed hand. His right stump, though wrapped in filthy strips of cloth, was drenched with blood. Mouth tight, he set it in her palm, and she pulled him to his feet.
They were alone, except for the angel with the splintered eyes.
“I am Gaia. Become the realm’s Guardian, and I will give you purpose.” Her words washed over Týr, her fingers tightening over his stump that hurt so badly. “You will recover all powers and more, and never lack again. In time, you will find what you seek.”
He nodded. A tingle shot up his wrist. The cloth unraveled and fell. Before his very eyes, his stump regenerated…and a blade shimmered into his palm.
She smiled. “It seems one of my gifted weapons has chosen you. Your dagger is an embodiment of your one weakness and your ultimate strength. When it fails to return to you, you have found your salvation…”
Týr barely heard her as a turbulent power roiled through him, something he hadn’t experienced in five centuries. It shot out in huge bursts of flame, consuming everything in its path—the remaining frozen demoniis, the dead humans, and the settlement. Even the trees surrounding the place burned to ashes…
His power had left nothing in its wake but devastation.
Kira shoved her hair away from her face, her eyes fluttering open. Ah, crap! She winced at the blinding light nailing her corneas. Peering through slit eyelids, she took in the wooden walls and the snow-covered grounds visible through the scenic windows.
This isn’t home. She bolted upright, her heart careening in its cage… Seconds later, everything that had happened came crashing down on her like a ton of bricks.
Her father being alive, the attack in the thoroughfare downtown, Týr bringing her to the cabin in the Adirondacks and tending to her wounds… Then, they’d kissed and-and…
Her face scorching at what had occurred, she threw her arm over her eyes and moaned. In the coziness of night with him, everything had appeared doable, but the brightness of day spun the reality. Now what?
Groaning, she put it all aside until she had a tanker of coffee and her brain cells could compute and engage properly. She picked her cell up from the coffee table. 2:03…p.m.? With a small screech, she shot off the couch.
Darn it, how could she sleep so long? What if Týr had news of Tomas?
She hightailed it to the front door, only to come to a grinding halt. She couldn’t go out to him looking like this. Oh, God! Please don’t let me have drooled on him. She hastily scrubbed her face.
The tinny sounds of clanging swords drew her to the adjacent window. Near the forest at the far side of the cabin, Týr and Michael fought.
Sheesh! Immortals and their vicious training. Nope, not her thing when she’d just gotten up. Heck, not even when her brain functioned normally. Unless Echo was around. Man, that girl should be locked up.
But the way the warriors moved, so fast and so violent in their strikes, there was sheer beauty in their brutal dance. Týr held her spellbound. He remained shirtless. The sunlight gleamed off his pale hair and underscored every ridged muscle on his body, his sweats riding low on his hips. Recalling exactly what he could do with his hot, persistent mouth and skillful hands, her tummy tensed, and need stirred again as unfulfilled desire for him took hold.
A low growl erupted in the quiet room. Kira spun around just as something furry leaped at her, knocking her backward, and she hit the wall. Frowning, she blinked at the wolf cub. “Puppy? What is it?”
Did he look bigger?
He growled, flashing his canines, stalking her.
What the heck! Her heart knocking against her ribs, she cautiously sidestepped the angry cub. “Did you want to go outside?”
The pup fixed her with an unblinking stare for several long seconds. Then its head cocked. His growls subsided and a small whine followed. He plopped on its rump, staring at her with dark, dark eyes…as if it could see into her thoughts or something.
Man, hanging with immortals was making her paranoid.
She pushed her over-working imagination aside. Sure, he was a wild animal, but he was still a pup—a baby. He probably wanted his mama—not be trapped here with her.
“C’mon. Wolf cubs should have their freedom instead of being stuck in a cabin with over-protective mortals.” She opened the door. The black ball of fur gamboled out, tripping down the steps and into the snow. The pup sniffed the wood near the steps before bounding off toward the trees.
Shuddering from the cold, Kira shut the door and scurried back upstairs to the bathroom. She peeled off one edge of her dressing and checked her wounds. Wow, the lesions were as good as healed. Thanks, Gran.
A quick shower later, she toweled off then shimmied into her jeans and finished getting dressed.
Back downstairs, she retrieved a black scrunchie from her jacket pocket and then paused, her brow crinkling. She could never relax or sleep when she worried about something. Her usual was to pace or stare at the ceiling. But she’d been lying in Týr’s arms, agonizing over Tomas, and then… Damn him!
Sliding the hair tie onto her wrist, she tore out of the cabin and staggered to a halt at the frigid cold, her boots sinking into the fresh snow. A harsh inhale of the icy air numbed her lungs. Darn! She shivered. Yeah, putting on a jacket over her cable-knit sweater would have been a good idea instead of taking off like a bat out of Hell.
Týr worked out near the lake now, alone, and went through some kind of precise karate or taekwondo movements. The sheer fluidity, the beauty of his utter control held her spellbound for several seconds before she recalled why she’d stormed outside. The wretch!
She clomped across to him. “How could you?”
“How could I what?” He continued his workout without a break
in stride, feet spread, hands moving before they shot out in a deadly strike.
“You put me to sleep,” she snapped. “When you knew how worried I was about Tomas.”
“You could do nothing for the boy last night.” He leaped into the air, spinning like a tornado, unleashing a flying kick before he landed in the slush without even stumbling. “You needed sleep.”
“It wasn’t your decision. You had no right—”
“No right?” He stopped, chest heaving, eyes narrowed. “No right?” He took a step closer, looming over her like some dark cloud. “I had every right when you’re working yourself into some human sickness.”
She scowled. Fine, maybe he had a point, but still. “It was my choice. You took that away.”
“I will do whatever I must to keep you safe, even protect you from your own mule-headedness.”
“My own—?” Spluttering in anger, she shoved him, hard, palms to pecs. “Just when I thought you’d gotten rid of the caveman tendencies, you do this!”
Ugh! It was probably easier to move a rooted oak. She stomped off toward the lake, or tried to, but the damn mushy surface hindered her. Kira gave up and glared at the snow-covered trees on the far side instead.
“Stop glowering, or the ice is sure to melt and haul you into its freezing depths, considering where you’re standing.”
Yeah, he’d make jokes. Her gaze dipped…to the glassy ice-surface underfoot. Holy crap! And she hadn’t slipped on her ass? Cautiously, she retreated to the trodden snow several feet away from the frozen lake. Soft laughter reached her. “At least your hair lost its temperamental shade.”
The big lout.
“About Tomas.”
His name broke through her ire.
Kira pivoted to him. Her eyes widened. Oh, no! Oh. Hell!
“Nik tracked him,” Týr said, his gaze gliding over her face in a caress. “But he’s one slippery lad. He ducked Nik before he caught him and vanished. We will find him, Kira.”
All she could do was nod. And stare. Thoughts of apologizing for getting mad at him vaporized like mist.
His hair. His beautiful, wheat-blond hair had slashes of striking crimson streaked through the strands. Crap! She was in so much trouble.
That had never happened before.
Then it hit her. She’d touched him during her fit of temper. But then no one pushed her buttons like he did. And as nervous as she was, a smile started. Hastily, she bit her lower lip, struggling not to give in to temptation.
A frown creased his brow. “What?”
With a quick shake of her head, she shoved her fidgety hands into her jeans’ pockets. “Er, nothing. I should go have my coffee.”
Those assessing eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re up to something.”
“Me?” she asked innocently, walking backward, her gaze flickering to his hair.
Týr reached up to touch some strands. Darn, he must have noticed her glances. Now it was imperative that she put distance between them. Fast. “I’m real thirsty is all—”
He dematerialized. Dammit, Kira grimaced. With her escape to the house cut off, she contemplated hiding in the forest. Two heartbeats later, the front door opened, and he stalked out—nope, he didn’t walk. He stalked. Yeah. He knew.
Man, with each prowling step he took closer to her, her tummy knotted further.
Hurriedly, she stepped back. With no idea what to make of his silence and unreadable features, she blurted, “Týr, look—”
“You think this is funny?”
“It wasn’t deliberate,” she protested. “I didn’t know that would happen. Honest.”
“Then remove it.”
She bit her lip. Even with red-streaked hair, he was so damn alluring. And that stare. She wanted to kiss him.
Dammit, Kira, concentrate. “Okay, okay—fine.” She shut her eyes and focused hard. Please, please, God, let the color be gone.
She peered through one slit eyelid. Crap, still there. “It won’t go away,” she moaned.
A low growl erupted. She pivoted and ran.
More amused than annoyed, Týr went after the little she-devil. It felt damn good to have the upper hand with her. Somehow, she always blindsided him with the things she did or said, with a smile he wanted to own.
He could have flashed and caught her, but the chase was exhilarating. Before she rushed headlong onto the lake and skidded into trouble, he leaped through the air and took her down into the soft snow.
The breath whooshed out of her, her hair spilling like a reddish, corkscrew halo around her head. His heart thudded in his chest looking into those shiny, hazel-green eyes. This woman was his. Now to show her what she meant to him—
“Dammit! Your back.”
“I’m fine. I checked it this morning. Scabs formed over the slashes.”
Still, he rested on his elbows, keeping his weight off her torso. Then, stunning all hell out of him, she brushed back his hair. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“You laughed.”
She pressed her trembling lips together, then the smile broke free. “Only because you’re always so put-together, no matter what the time of day or night it is. In my defense, this occurrence threw me off a little. It never happened before and wasn’t intentional, Týr. Truly.”
He knew that. Wanting to see what she’d do, he said coolly, “There will be consequences for your actions if you don’t fix it.”
“Why?” she grumbled but continued brushing back the hunk of hair that persisted on falling over his brow. “It wasn’t deliberate.”
He stared. She scrunched her nose and wiggled beneath him as if to escape. He pressed down with a little more of his lower body weight to keep her pinned, too aware of her lush softness beneath him. His dick stirred.
“Suggest a payment fast, ‘cause I quite like the notion of putting you over my knees.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Go ahead, try me.”
He was playing with fire, not that it made a damn difference. He just wanted to have her beneath him like this for a little while longer. Hot, breathless and not fighting him. For a second, she tensed. Then she grabbed his hair with both hands, yanked him down, and kissed him, a light brush of her lips.
His heart kicked up hard. By the Fates! Every time her mouth touched his, he felt as if he were reborn. Alive.
“That’s no reimbursement, barely a cent in fact. Now, this…” His mouth slanted down on hers. And the world as he knew it slipped a little off its axis before resettling and sharpening all his senses, his focus…and it all came back to her. “This is what I want,” he whispered, sucking her lower lip. She inhaled a harsh breath, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, needing more, so much more.
He deepened the kiss and tasted sunshine. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she responded with equal passion. Desire coursed through his blood, his cock going painfully hard.
She suddenly broke free, panted, “Týr, wait—”
“Later.” Before she gave voice to what he knew was coming, he pushed to his feet. He didn’t want to think about everything that stood between them. “C’mon. I want to check something out. Consider it payment for this bad dye job.”
“What?”
He helped her up and summoned two short swords as dark, thick clouds gathered, obscuring the sunlight.
She eyed the blade warily as if he palmed a snake. “Why are you giving me this?”
“I know Echo and you are BFFs. So, she must have taught you some defense techniques with weapons. Show me.”
“Must I?” she groaned. “I really hate fighting.”
Týr ignored her grumbles and held out the sword. “Kira, you are important to me. I have to know.”
She exhaled a huge sigh. “Fine.” She removed a crinkled hair band from her wrist and fastened her mane. Accepting the sword, she did a few practice parries.
One look reassured him. She had a good grip on her weapon, and her stance appeared a little wary
but prepared.
He lunged, and she ducked and came up on his other side. He spun around. With both hands, she brought her sword down hard in a deadly swing, forcing him into a hasty step back and block. Damn, had he not defended, that strike could have slashed his unprotected chest.
He grinned. “Someone’s been hiding her skills—”
“Like I’m gonna broadcast to everyone what I can do,” she panted and scowled all at once. “I. Hate. Fighting. But. You. Insist.” She attacked again.
As they parried, flurries started to drift around them, a breeze picking up. Týr held back on his immense strength. Damn. His female could wield the weapon better than most humans. He had to thank Echo when he saw her next.
Soon, the clanging of swords, along with feminine growls and grunts escalated, but the falling snow grew heavier, visibility dimming. Týr raised a hand, calling a halt. “Not too shabby, Fluff.”
Breathing hard, she glowered at him. Yup, she hated the name. She opened her mouth to snap, probably something cutting, but then she smiled. Her hazel eyes glowed an apple-green shade of evil. “Why, thank you, honey pie.”
His eyes narrowed. And she burst out laughing. “At least my names are adorable.”
No, you are, he thought. “C’mon. Let’s grab a bite to eat, then we got to leave.”
She swiped the back of her hand over her damp brow. “Go back to the castle?”
He gave a terse nod, slung an arm around her shoulders, and hurried to the cabin. With his Guardian instinct deeply ingrained, he couldn’t in good conscience remain in hiding when danger trolled. “Yeah. I’ve got to get back on patrol tonight. Trouble’s brewing.”
“Because of those demons kidnapping the children?” she whispered, sliding her arm around him to rest on his hips. Fates. He reveled in her touch. Now, he just needed to convince her to stay.
“Yeah.”
Her blunt fingertips dug into him. “We have to find Tomas, Týr.”
“I will,” he promised. “But I need you safe while I’m on patrol.”
Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 14
