“Knowing you couldn’t escape because death pulled you back to your cave.”
Those bleak eyes met hers. A terse nod followed.
“What did you do then?”
“I searched for Dagan. I soon learned that we, the gods imprisoned in that hellhole, provided enough gossip to last the demons centuries. And rumblings of a Sumerian deity trapped in Reapers Hell, a place where blood avians reigned, reached me.”
But he hadn’t found Dagan, Kira knew this because Týr had told her at the cabin they’d just buried the hatchet of their blood-drenched past and were back on speaking terms only recently. “Does Dagan know you searched for him?”
He shook his head. So, despite them mending their friendship, he hadn’t revealed what he’d done. “What happened?”
Týr pushed his balled fists into his pockets, his stare dropping to his boots. “None of us could die. We were still immortal despite our lack of abilities. Reapers Hell was worse than any desert, unbearable heat even with no sun. Just endless, gray skies. At nightfall, death struck when massive, vulture-like creatures descended…”
Kira bit her trembling lip, struggling to hold back more tears. No words could compensate for what Týr had been through, what she’d seen. Cautiously, she padded across to him and lifted a hand to his face, tenderly touching his rigid jaw.
His gaze lifted to hers.
“I’m so sorry…” she whispered. “For everything. And for the bidding, too.”
He froze, looking as if she’d gutted him.
“Týr—”
“No…” A nerve pulsed hard on his brow, he stumbled back. “You don’t want to hear this, you don’t!”
“Týr!” She rushed to him, but he wheeled away as if he couldn’t look at her and stared out the window again. His closed-off expression had her stalling a few feet from him.
After an endless moment, he finally spoke, his voice impossibly low. “The spectators grew angry that even when I won, I still died, and they were denied their end game…” His tone was empty, like he was speaking of something that had happened to someone else. “So, new rules were applied to me. Every few days, they had an auction instead of a fight. Males and females all turned up because of this damn face! I was taken by whoever won top bid, stripped and chained to a bed…” His voice wavered.
Nooo! She bit her lip, trying to keep from breaking down, her heart fragmenting into shards as he revealed the degradation and the humiliation he’d suffered during his captivity. Unable to endure his torment, she reached out to him. “Týr—”
“What?” He whipped around, his brittle mask cracking. “You gonna tell me everything’s gonna be okay? How the fuck can anything ever be?” There was so much pain behind those furious words. “They laughed afterward when they gutted me like I was nothing. They laughed—” Power crackled, sparks pinging around the room and pricking her skin.
Fighting to swallow her tears and failing, she touched his arm. He jerked away, his back hitting the windowpane.
Her fingers balled. “Nothing will ever make what happened okay…I know that. But I’m here now—”
“I shouldn’t have said that, not to you. You took away the nightmares for a while, but now, here, in this place, it all overwhelms me like wings fluttering inside here—” He jabbed a finger at his cranium, repeatedly. Those beautiful eyes of his were edged with so much agony. “The voices, the laughter—”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“No one can help me, don’t you get it? Parts of me were left back in that hellhole. I’m only half a person—” The tormented words were wrenched free. He shoved away from the wall and prowled the room as if he might shatter if he stopped. “Those nightmares will haunt me forever.”
Slowly, Kira approached him, forcing him to stop his erratic march-about. “Then I will be there for you to lean on, to help you through each nightmare…”
She cautiously put her palm on his chest, desperate to reach him and pull him out of the abyss he was caught in. He lifted his head and stared at her with those haunted dark eyes. “I’ll never let you endure any of this alone,” she whispered. “Together, we’ll find the pieces and mend them. I’ll let nothing hurt you again for as long as I breathe. I swear it on my life.”
Týr’s throat worked as if he couldn’t swallow, then he dragged her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, his face buried in her neck. God, there was so much suffering hidden within her warrior. Tears misted her eyes as she caressed his back.
“I’m here now, love—I’m here.”
His big body shuddered, and his embrace tightened. She could barely breathe, and she didn’t care. He needed her.
After a long moment, his breathing slowed to normal. He eased back a little and then shook his head. His gaze skimmed over her face as if he were mapping her every feature. “From the very first day I met you, it was like a train crash every time you wandered into my sight. I stood no chance.” The glint in his narrowed eyes made her think that he couldn’t quite make sense of it himself. “You smashed through any shields I erected without even trying, and you utterly and completely devastated me. It took me a while to understand that all you did was show me a way back to the living. It was so easy to fall in love with you. And so damn hard…”
He loved her? A sob caught in her throat, and then he was talking again. “Only with you there, I learned how to breathe through my nightmares…”
She sniffed, tears crowding her eyes. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth. “I love you, too. So much.”
A smile curved his lips and warmed her heart. His arms tightened around her.
To help him breathe again was a good start. But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed his spirit and soul healed after everything that had been taken from him. He had to learn to forgive himself. And she would do everything she could to help him do just that.
Týr held onto Kira, his limbs shaky, his mind in a daze at the emotional wringer he’d been through at having layers upon layers of his soul exposed. It still left him reeling, that she didn’t care about his past or that he’d been sold as a sex slave. She didn’t blame him for any of the atrocities that had occurred, or think that it was his fault all the protectors had been incarcerated in Tartarus in the first place.
Kira eased back and looked up into his face. “Just so you know, if I ever find those bastards who did that to you, I will make them wish for death.”
At the steely glint in her eyes, a smile started. She hated hurting anyone, but she would do so to avenge him. His heart warmed, feeling as if he’d just walked out of his constant night storms and into the dawn.
But he had to be honest. “It was my fault we ended up imprisoned.”
“Really?” She cut him a severe stare. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it was that goddess—yeah, yeah, I know she was young and all—but she gave you that damn drink!”
Týr sighed and rubbed his palm over his unshaven jaw. Even though he finally understood this, he refused to put the blame on a child.
Sounds outside the chamber intruded, pulling him back to the guards changing shift. And what he had to do. He didn’t want to leave Kira, but Riley would be waiting, and he needed to meet the informant who had info about the abducted children. Especially since it all centered around the missing boy Kira cared deeply about. Not wanting to raise her hopes if it led to a false trail, he remained silent.
“You look pensive again.”
“I’m fine. Your brother, however, seems to think I need more tours of Stygia,” he murmured. “I need to go meet him soon.”
A smile wavered on her tempting mouth, but her troubled expression remained. Her eyes searched his. “You and him?”
Right. He couldn’t resist. “Well, we’re both still breathing.”
She gave a feminine snort and relaxed against him. “I’m glad you’re getting along. I mean, I love Echo with all my heart, but this is my brother. For so long, I wanted to truly belon
g, and now I do. I have family—Riley, Gran. And most of all…you.”
Chapter 21
Týr jogged down the torch-lit stairwell, wearing a new t-shirt Kira had somehow wrangled for him. The damn thing constricted him around the chest and biceps, but it would have to do. As he neared the fourth-floor landing, Riley pushed away from the wall where he waited. “How is she?”
“Better now.”
The male stared at him for a silent second then nodded and said quietly, “She touched a mystical orb in the study, it’s one that shows the past.”
Yeah, Týr had already figured that out.
Silently, they made their way to the ground floor. Týr appreciated that Riley hadn’t asked any questions. It wasn’t something he ever wanted anyone else to know about.
They stepped out onto the busy courtyard a few minutes later and then dematerialized.
Deep in some gloomy part of Stygia, they reformed. Purple noon skies darkened perceptibly, the air heavy and oppressive. Týr scanned the dingy village, the stench of bile-inducing sulfur harsher here.
“The outskirts of Stygia,” Riley informed him, striding toward a derelict alley with low-roofed, ash-covered buildings. Dull, grimy orbs flickered on some of the dwelling walls, casting an anemic glow over the lane.
A small, hairless creature, with eyes like an abyss, sidled past Týr and snarled, its mouth slitting open like a cavernous pit as the thing bared its fangs. Riley’s hand flashed out, releasing a sizzling bolt that tasered the creature. An ear-splitting screech ricocheted briefly before it vanished.
“If you don’t want to face endless suffering, make sure those things don’t bite you.” Riley shoved open the door into a dimly lit tavern with a wide archway on the far side, leading into another chamber with a glass screen. Two horned, fangy bouncers guarded that entrance.
Naked demons in trios or more could be clearly seen through the doors, engaging in various sex acts. Obviously, the glass panel allowed a free show for the voyeurs seated directly in its path. However, the reek of sex, along with the sounds of groans and whimpers crowded Týr’s head and had his stomach roiling.
He clenched his teeth and had to force himself to move forward. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be here.”
Týr willed the inebriated occupants slumped at the corner table and out of sight of the damn show to leave. As they tottered off, he dropped down onto a chair, his back to the wall, and kept his focus on the packed place, locking out the sights and sounds of the drunks cheering on the sex show.
Riley took the seat adjacent to him.
Drinks were ordered and served a few minutes later, but both goblets remained untouched as they waited. Minutes ticked by… Týr wrapped his fingers around the squat pewter cup in front of him and he struggled to shut off the taunting laughter and grunts from another time echoing inside his head.
Fates! He pinched the bridge of his nose and retreated to his safe place. Kira. He recalled her warm smile and let it wrap around him like a hug, remembering the dancing laughter in her eyes when she teased him. The chaos in his mind receded.
“You okay?”
Týr dropped his hand. “Yeah.”
The den doors flew open. He cut a sideways look. A tall male sauntered out, wearing only leather-like black pants and boots, his chest bare. He weaved his way to them, long, raven-black hair swaying past his shoulders. Both eyebrows arching, he flipped around the chair opposite Riley and Týr and straddled the seat. Violet eyes gleamed in an annoyingly striking, but familiar face, one Týr instantly recognized.
“So, you fuck around here now?” he snapped. It took everything in him to be civil to Echo’s former guardian. “Do you even care how she’s doing?”
“Did I leave some forlorn little female hankering after me?” the male smirked. “She wants another taste, eh? She knows where to find me.”
Týr had to rein in his fury and refrain from smashing a fist into his face. Echo having Damon as her guardian sucked. It wasn’t that she needed him, but to her, the ass was family. He, however, had simply cut her out of his life and left. Just as well she has no idea about the shit he engaged in.
“A’Drael?” Riley’s sharp tone ended their deadlock stare.
“Depends,” the male countered. “You have what I want?”
“That’s A’Damiel or Damon.” Týr’s lips lifted in a hard smile. The bastard had more aliases than clothes, and seemed to have gotten personality transplant from the cold fish Týr knew him to be.
“You can call me anything you want, but I prefer Dare.” The male smirked.
Teeth gritted, it took everything within Týr not to pop the dick in the face, well aware that he’d set this antagonistic ball rolling. Whatever had turned a taciturn male like Damon into this debauched one in a mere year wasn’t his biz. He just needed the damn info on the missing kids. More, he hated keeping the truth from Kira that Tomas could be here. Knowing her, she’d work herself into a frenzy.
Damon or whatever the hell he was calling himself in this shitpit these days, smirked at him. “No need for the animosity, warrior. To clear your confusion, Damon and I shared the same womb—same time etcetera.” The male waved a finger. “But the colossal scourge has no loyalties to kin, haven’t seen him in ages… Have you?”
Twins. Týr should have known. “I’m not his keeper.”
“Here.” Riley pulled a pouch from his pants’ pocket and dropped it on the table. The male didn’t look at it, but he lost the cockiness, his expression grim as he folded his arms over the backrest of his chair. “Mount Algolaith. It’s where they are.”
“Shit,” Riley muttered. “The damn lower level.”
It wasn’t a question, but Dare nodded.
Týr knew squat about this realm. Even the hellhole he’d been incarcerated in had been a blur. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Trouble.” Riley scrubbed his face, exhaling a massive breath. “Algolaith is close to the gateways to the Seven Circles of Hell.”
Right. Why would anything ever be straightforward?
“Were any human kids brought in recently?” Týr directed a don’t-fuck-with-me stare at the male.
Dare shrugged. “There’re always deliveries coming from the mortal world. Not sure about the young, but there have been rumblings if you know who to ask.”
Yeah, those damn demonii or the blood drinkers.
“There is an easier way inside, something right up your vicious alley.” Dare shot Týr a shark-like grin. “Fight.”
“It’s likely, considering what we want to do,” Riley said.
“Not in Algolaith.” Dare shook his head. “Everything’s watched over by some real vile individuals.”
A moan drifted from the den of depravity. Bile tracked up Týr’s throat. His fingers tightened on the goblet, impatience bleeding into him, needing to be gone from this damn dwelling. “Regardless. It’s still a fucking fight, whichever way it’s delivered. We kick their asses, get the kids, and get the hell out.”
Dare cocked a brow at Týr. “This is the demon world. You think it’s all straightforward here?”
“Hold on.” Riley narrowed his eyes. “Is that the place I’ve been hearing about? The arena where anything goes?”
“If you mean death fights? Indeed.”
Týr shot to his feet, his lungs shutting down. He needed to get out of this fucking suffocating joint. Louder cries and pants filled the tavern. “When?”
“There’s one at midnight. Just so you know, it’s real brutal, pretty boy—”
Týr spun back, his fist smashing into the dumbass’s face. Dare flew off the chair and landed on the floor. He leaped to feet and swiped the blood dripping from his split lip. “Réomer, your friend is rather volatile.”
“Yeah. Long journey.”
Teeth gritted, Týr strode out of the den of iniquity before he truly lost his shit and tore everything apart. Moments later, he slowed down at the side of the gloomy building and slumped against the wal
l.
“A bidding, a bidding,” millennia-old roars crowded in his head. I always love this part,” his demon assassin hissed. “Who will it be this time, males or females wanting a worthless, one-handed loser?”
Fates. Týr squeezed his eyes tight, struggling to shut off his turbulent mind, but the fucking ghostly mirage had him in a stranglehold…
“Sssso, what do we have here?”
At the thick, sibilant tone, Týr’s head shot up, his heart slamming against his ribs. A dozen or so unfamiliar, sinewy, red-skinned demons, wearing only pants surrounded him. Ram-like horns curled back from their protruding brows and over their hairless heads. Flat, yellow eyes gleamed in anticipation.
Don’t engage—don’t fight—
“You think you’re too good for the likes of us? A contemptible Fallen? You ignore us?”
A sizzling energy-bolt struck Týr like a ten-ton truck hurtling into him, and nailed him to the building. Held in the vicious memories of his past, power zinged beneath his skin.
“You don’t belong in this world,” the shit-stirrer sneered.
“And you shouldn’t be breathing, but we can’t always have what we want—”
Unseen fetters manacled his hands and legs. And the past cantered back. He fought the invisible cuffs that held him immobile like a fucking vise. The scourge flashed to him. Dagger gleaming in his hand, he pressed the edge into Týr’s throat. “Not so brave now, Fallen?”
Memories of being restrained battering his mind, rage consumed Týr like gasoline to flames. He snarled. The scum laughed. No one fucking did that to him again! With a deafening roar, Týr broke free of the obscure shackle, and the blade embedded deep into his flesh. A coppery taste flooded his gorge, warm blood trailed down his neck. He grabbed the scourge’s hand, still locked onto the hilt, his abilities exploding free…
They called him berserker. He was far, far worse.
The demon lit up like a volcano about to blow. His skin split, and a terrified shriek broke free then cut off as he detonated. Pieces of him rained as ashes to the dingy ground. “I am no Fallen angel. I’m a fucking Guardian!”
Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 24
