Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Kira was a fighter. He had to believe that she was okay, or he’d lose his mind.

  An old woman in an oversized black coat, hunched with age, trudged toward him, pushing her trap-covered trolley. Her white hair was pulled in a scraggy tail. Lines mapped her dusky skin. She slowed near him and held out her hand.

  Týr rose to his feet, retrieved a couple of dollars from his pocket, and handed it to her. “You should seek sanctuary down at The Shelter.”

  She didn’t take the money. Instead, her cold fingers closed around his hand, her rheumy eyes holding his gaze. Týr pulled free. “Look—”

  “You search for the one who lives in here?” she croaked, gnarled hand touching her chest.

  A rough laugh escaped him. Týr stuck his fists into his pockets, said nothing.

  “And wonder if you should open another window?”

  His gaze cut back to her, his heart jumping to his throat. “What?” he rasped.

  “The winds talk,” she whispered and waved her bent fingers. A churning, black portal opened on the asphalt. “Go. Find what you seek.”

  Thunderstruck, Týr narrowed his eyes, trying to see beyond her cryptic comment to what the hell she was. But he sensed nothing. “Who are you?”

  She merely patted his leather-clad arm. “It will close in a few seconds.”

  Týr glanced at the roiling gateway. One minute, he was on land. The next, he went tumbling through the vortex. What the fuck? He glared at the crone, but the swirling darkness around him distorted the old woman’s image into one with lighter brown skin and pale hair. The aperture snapped shut.

  Týr landed with a spine-jarring thump on a rocky surface and grunted—then cursed—the stench of sulfur knocking his lungs straight into his stomach in protest.

  He was back in the Dark-fucking-Realm. He detested this damn place. But Kira mattered more than his distaste. He would check out this shithole if there were even a chance she could be here.

  Straightening, he did a quick assessment of his surroundings and found himself in a narrow pathway squeezed between squat, darkened dwellings, and opposite some kind of tavern if the drunken commotion coming from inside was a clue.

  Not wanting to draw notice, Týr bolted down his powers, hunched his shoulders, and tottered inside the pub like a bumbling drunk. If Kira were in the vicinity, he didn’t want to tip off the bastards who had her…

  He lurched out of the place after an hour. Nothing.

  Several watering holes later, Týr stumbled into another tavern. His mood piss-low, he shoved a plastered demon aside and sat down, rubbing his tired eyes. The stares coming his way scorched his psyche.

  He ignored them. Most of these assholes would assume he was just another Fallen looking for a place to stay. Some would want to take him on. Usually, he’d welcome the fight, but right then, his mind—his thoughts—centered on one person only. His chest tightened, and he felt as if he’d been clocked in the sternum again at how fast those bastards had taken her.

  A demoness in a loose, red dress displaying too much skin, sashayed over, her lusty, dark gaze doing a quick once-over on him. “What’ll it be?”

  An open offer. But with her standing so close, Týr’s skin crawled. Bile churned his belly. He struggled not to let the memories clawing his mind pull him back to another time…lust-filled voices and hands slithering all over him.

  “Whatever he’s having,” Týr grunted, flicking a thumb to the demon on his right. He didn’t even care what it was, he just wanted her gone.

  Demons crowded the dingy bar. The walls behind the counter showcased veins of fire streaking through the surface and lighting the place with a dim glow. Týr lowered his gaze, clasped his hands on the scarred table, and concentrated on the conversations around him. The masses spoke in a demonic dialect he was able to get the gist of, especially considering where he’d spent five centuries. His focus slowly moved through the horde as he picked up bits of convo…and then the word mortal caught his attention. In this hellhole, humans were rare.

  “…but she’s already taken. Lord Nicor made it known.”

  “Just our luck. First, the pretty brunette several months ago—”

  “That female is Lord Réomer’s consort,” the demon grunted. “It’s why he killed Móric, for coming after her.”

  Týr wished like hell he had Blaéz’s ability to get into these assholes minds to pick up their thoughts, or even Dagan’s power to read images from the damn glasses they touched to get what he wanted, to see if they were talking about Kira. Instead, he had fire. In a place like this.

  But deep down, the knowledge stirred…it had to be her.

  He ignored the demoness setting his jug on the table. Shit. He had no currency that would work here. Týr listed to his side as if he were sloshed out of his mind. Faster than eyes could track, he stuck his hand into his neighbor’s coat pocket and came up with three small gold nuggets. He dropped one on the table.

  With a wide smile, the demoness snatched it and scurried off.

  “…But the redhead is quite something. Tall, too…” Týr went dead still.

  “You don’t care about your head, do you? They will kill you. Anyways, you have to get inside the fortress first and past those deadly wards. Unless you’re brave enough to stroll in through the front door?”

  Jaw set, Týr pushed to his feet. He had his destination.

  Chapter 17

  Hours later, Kira sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing the beaded turquoise and black bracelet she wore.

  Rest? How could she? Even the shower she’d taken earlier hadn’t helped. The heat had made her too hot and edgy to even attempt sleeping. And worse, to avoid a mating she didn’t want, she was stuck in her darn chambers. God, why! And a near-hysterical laugh got trapped in her throat. Why would He listen now, considering what her father was?

  Sighing, she rubbed her sweaty palms down the strappy, cotton dress she wore, glad at least someone had had the foresight to make sure she had clothes in this place.

  A soft thud echoed from the other room, followed by a grunt. Kira jumped to her feet, fear freezing her in place. What if a demon found his way inside? She hadn’t closed the windows. Dammit! She sprinted to the nightstand and retrieved the dagger.

  Her heart thundering in her ears, she quietly stole to the door and peered into the living room. With the place concealed in darkness, she tapped the small depression near the doorway. The recessed wall orbs slowly came to life, casting a soft glow over the furniture. Instantly, her gaze locked on the prone figure near the window—partially hidden by the coffee table. Well, if he thought her some docile mortal woman, he was in for a freakin’ surprise.

  As the light reached its full power, she inched closer. Ugly, red burn marks scorched the visible skin on the intruder’s hands, and then her gaze shifted to his face. At the familiar, pale hair, her heartbeat faltered.

  Týr! Her dagger dropped. She rushed to him, terror stealing her breath. This close, she realized just how bad his burns were. Oh, dear God! His beautiful face had suffered so much damage, scorched skin revealing the raw flesh beneath. Blood oozed, and tears clouded her eyes as she carefully pushed away a hunk of singed hair that had fallen onto his seared brow. He was barely breathing. What had happened for him to get so horribly burned?

  “Týr…” she croaked. “Can you hear me? Please, speak to me. Oh, God, please be okay.”

  Her first instinct was to yell for help, but she didn’t dare, and then she prayed that no one came. Her gaze darted to the closed door. Everything appeared quiet outside. Odd, that no one seemed to have noticed Týr breaking into her chambers. But she didn’t care, grateful for the reprieve.

  She leaped to her feet, sprinted across the room and locked the door anyway, then dashed to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel. On her knees again, she carefully dabbed at the blisters on Týr’s skin, trying to cool him. His long, leather coat had fared worse than his body—thank God. Parts of it had even melted.

  Soon e
nough, the horrendously charred flesh started to knit together, the fire-engine red fading. Even his hair shed the scorched strands.

  Gently, she stroked his whiskered jaw. A harsh exhale exploded in the quiet, and Kira almost jumped out of her skin. Týr leaped up. His glazed eyes bounced all over the room as if trying to assess where he was, his expression tight. His focus swung back to her. Instant recognition chased away whatever confusion his healing had pulled him under.

  “Kira?” He hunkered down in a squeak of leathers, grasping her upper arms urgently, his frantic gaze rushing over her face and body. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m fine.” Her heart expanded, her eyes drinking him in. He came for her, to the one place she knew he loathed more than anything. She basked in his caring, knowing it would be short-lived.

  “Thank fuck!” He hauled her to her knees, hugging her tightly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He shoved to his feet, pulling her hand. When she didn’t move, just remained on her knees, he frowned. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go! I promise, I’ll make those bastards pay for what they did to you. I’ll kill them all. But first, I need to get you out of here.”

  Kira sat back on her heels and bit her lip, feeling as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff. “I can’t leave. And-and I don’t want you to kill anyone.”

  “Why?” His expression turned dark. Dangerous. “What did the fuckers do?”

  “Nothing,” she hastily said. How could she tell him the truth? It was all so complicated.

  Suddenly, his expression changed. Hardened. “Is it because of that demon, Riley?” He spat the name.

  Her heart in her throat, she nodded.

  He went utterly still as if he’d stopped breathing.

  “Týr—” She reached for him. He jerked away from her, stalking the length of the windowed walls. “So, you changed your mind about me, is that it?” He ripped off his ruined coat and flung it aside before storming back to her. “You want the demon? Fine. I don’t fucking care. But you don’t belong in this place—fuck!” His hard features contorted as if in pain, contradicting his cold words. “You have family on Earth. I won’t let you stay here!”

  But the betrayal in his beautiful eyes stabbed Kira straight in the heart and had her scrambling to her feet. “Týr, no—”

  He wheeled away from her and slammed his fists on the granite sill, his throat working as he glared out the window.

  “It’s not what you think,” she whispered, her voice soft and aching with her own torment. She touched his charred sleeve. His entire body stiffened. Swallowing hard, Kira dropped her hand. “It’s much worse, and I’m terrified of what will happen—of what you’ll do when you hear the truth.”

  He didn’t look at her. Or speak. His profile a granite mask.

  She sucked in a deep breath for courage. “Riley brought me here to…to meet my father.”

  If Týr were still before, now, his entire being froze. Slowly, he turned to her. Nothing showed on his intractable features. “Explain.”

  “My father—” Kira forced out through a throat tight with anxiety, “is demon. My mother was human. I didn’t know any of this, Týr. Riley didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to scare me. Nicor, his companion, was the one who hauled me into this world. Now, my father insists I stay until my birthday passes…”

  Týr stood there like a rock, and Kira wondered if he’d already shipped out of them being together, knowing what she was. The very thought twisted her heart with agony.

  “And-and I know how you feel about demons…” Her voice cracked. “I-I understand if you don’t want this—if you don’t want me any longer—”

  Something dark and ruthless moved in those toffee-hued depths, reminding her that he was a deadly killer even if he was a Guardian. “So you can hie off and become a consort to the bastard whose scent you reek of?”

  “What?” Her stomach heaved. “No, no! You got this all wrong. When I came here, demons wanted to claim me, but Nicor—I think he’s a high-ranking lord or something—said I was his, and any who came after me would have to fight him to the death first. The demons backed off.”

  “Then why do you smell like him, Kira?”

  The hard anger in his voice had her pressing her palm to her chest. She really didn’t want to do this, but she didn’t want any lies between them either. “He…Nicor… He kissed me to overshadow your scent, said it was safer that way. He took me by surprise, I swear,” she hastened to add. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Týr,” she whispered, terrified that he would leave. “I didn’t. Please don’t hate me…”

  His ruthless expression softened, as did his hard stare. He lifted his hands to her face and stroked her cheeks. “The Fates know you drive me insanely crazy at times, but hate? I couldn’t. Not you. Never you.”

  She exhaled a huge breath she hadn’t known she was holding, her eyes blurring with tears. “But you loathe Tagg, even though he’s half human.”

  “Only because you like him.”

  Her mouth wavered with a smile, a warm glow chasing away the cold inside her. “Really? Why?”

  An endless second passed, and his gaze remained fixed on hers. “Is it enough if I tell you that when I saw you disappear through that portal with those demons, I could no longer breathe? That I was utterly terrified about what they would do to you, and that I wanted to kill every last fucking one out there with my bare hands?”

  There wasn’t a speck of sarcasm in those light-caramel depths. Her mouth opened, but no words came out at the deep-seated emotions welling within her.

  “You doubted me.” He shook his head, his lips brushing hers in a kiss. “Difficult female.”

  “How could I not, with everything I know about you?”

  “It seems you don’t know the most essential thing, then.”

  “Really? And what is that?”

  “That you are mine. Now. Later. Forever.”

  “Týr,” she whispered against his distracting mouth, her fingers stroking his unshaven jaw. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I came to this godsforsaken place, didn’t I? You are my life’s blood, woman.” His voice was all rough edges. His gaze roamed her face, intense with hunger and…something else. “I mean it, Kira, I will never give you up. You’re embedded so deep inside here”—he thumped his chest—“without you, I might as well stop breathing.”

  Hypnotized by the tender look in his eyes, and with his oath ringing in her ears, it took Kira a moment to realize that he was walking her backward to the bedroom. “Týr, wait-wait, what if someone comes?”

  “I will know. It’s not like your sire’s going to kill his daughter’s mate, now is he? Besides, I want no fucking demon thinking they can claim my mate.” His hands slipped from her waist to grip her bottom, possessiveness bleeding off him. The back of her legs bumped into the bed, stopping her. Need wound her body into a coil of yearning.

  “I missed you so damn much—” He licked the notch in her throat. She inhaled sharply, biting back a moan. “I can smell your arousal.”

  “You have a way of making me lose my mind.”

  “Do I now?” He smiled. It wasn’t the typically mocking smirk he wore, but one that warmed his eyes, revealing those devastating dimples.

  He nipped her lower lip. His fingers pushed at the shoulder straps, and her flowing dress slithered down her hips to the floor. Her bare nipples brushed against his shirt, and the soft, sensual abrasion had her growing damper. He palmed her breasts and squeezed, his mouth covering hers in a deeply carnal kiss. And as their tongues connected, the sizzling heat consuming her was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He kissed her with a raw, primal need as if starving for her. Pinpricks of heat flooded her body, hiking her desire and making her squirm.

  “What-what is that?” she gasped, breaking their kiss. “It…prickles.”

  “My powers. It’s been too damn long…” He sent that i
ncredible stare down her naked body and up again. “Fates, you truly are beautiful.”

  Her face heated. His gaze dark and intense, Týr grabbed his Henley by the back of its neck, pulled it off, and tossed it aside.

  At the sight of the nicks and scars marking his powerful chest and ripped abs, Kira couldn’t resist the temptation to trace a finger over the one on his taut belly, a thin, barely noticeable line that ran lengthwise. He moved her hand away.

  Frowning, she looked up. Týr merely watched her with those heated eyes, and she forgot her thoughts. His hands lowered, fumbling his pants button open. “Dammit!” he muttered and stopped to kick off his boots first.

  Kira bit back a smile, which didn’t escape him, and his eyes narrowed. He lunged for her, taking her down to the mattress, still wearing his leathers, his warm, hard body pinning hers down. “Did you just laugh at me?”

  “No-no, I wasn’t,” she breathed, sounding all needy. Nothing like the normally sane person she was, her mind adrift with happiness.

  His dimples flashed. “Little liar.” He tugged one nipple with his teeth and bit down. She squeaked and grabbed his hair. “God, Týr—”

  “We have to be quiet…or not. Your choice.” He scraped a thumb over the nipple he’d just bitten. He sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, soothing the slight sting with his warm tongue. Her breath caught. Like a cord connected from her chest to her core, his lapping tongue sent blood rushing to her clit.

  Christ! She whimpered, tangling her fingers in his hair. And then he started his sensual torment of her other breast…

  When he finally released her, she blinked, her mind and body trapped in a blaze of desire. Týr moved off her. His lips quirked, but it was the intense emotions in his intense gold eyes—yes, there was hunger, too—that held her spellbound. He got rid of his pants, and his erection snapped free, hitting his abs.

  “I love you laid out like this for me, elska.” His gaze lowered, gliding over her body. He tapped her one ankle. “Spread.”