“Wait, what? Wrath?” Echo lifted a hand as if she’d grab Kira, her bi-colored eyes popping wide like saucers. “You tell us that one of the deadliest Sins is your father, and you’re more excited about having a brother?”
“Honestly, I must admit I wasn’t too happy about meeting my sire. He had me abducted for godsakes. It’ll probably take a little time for everything to sink in, but the truth is, I was dead-scared back there. Heck, I was so happy when Týr came.”
“Yes, about that? How did you keep such a huge secret from us, hmm?” Darci wiggled her eyebrows.
“There were no secrets.” Kira laughed. “We were still at each other’s throats, figuratively I mean, when you left on your honeymoon. Then, everything changed that night.” Heat stole across her face.
“Whoa—wait! Start at the beginning.” Darci leaned closer, her striking eyes bright with curiosity. “I go away for a few days and, boom, you and the most perfect-looking male ever created are a couple?”
Kira scrunched her face, but her stomach cramped painfully, recalling what Týr had endured because of his looks. She arched an eyebrow. “So, what is Blaéz?”
“My heart, and equally gorgeous.” Darci sighed.
All these women were destined mates to their warriors, except for her. But, heck, she loved Týr completely and irrevocably, and she refused to backslide with insecurities. It would only make her unhappy. And that would trouble Týr.
A little edge, Kira wrapped her fingers around her warm mug, her gaze drifting around the kitchen. “I missed this.”
Cooking or baking usually helped center her. She leaped up from her chair and made her way over to where Hedori was dicing a load of veggies. “Let me cook something.”
His mouth opened and then snapped shut. He gave a polite incline of his head. “Of course. Tell me what you want help with—”
“Nah. I got it.” She walked into the pantry to select what she needed, then just stood there. I’m okay—I’m okay, she repeated. And cooking did help get her mind off things she couldn’t control.
Týr walked out of the study much later than anticipated. He scanned and found Kira in the kitchen. Moments later, he opened the door and stumbled to a halt at the mess on the counter. Dishes and white dust coated the granite surface. And the scent of something—he couldn’t quite figure out what—but spicy enough to make his stomach twitch in hunger hung in the air. After the food in Stygia, he was quite ready for something homemade.
Kira looked up, and at her smile, he forgot the clutter. She glowed from the inside, a light that simply tugged at him.
“Hey, Týr,” the females greeted him.
He nodded absently, his attention back on Kira. “I didn’t know you cooked.”
She arched a brow. “Every time I came here, I did. Didn’t you notice?”
Hell, he had. He was always aware of her. Just not with what she was doing in the kitchen.
Man, he couldn’t wait. That quack, Lore, who doubled as a shrink—as if Týr would ever spill to the know-it-all angel about his past—would probably tell him food was a temporary fix to seal up the abyss inside him or some such shit. True or not, he didn’t care. His mate cooked! Thank fuck.
“So, what’s all this?” Týr asked, going around the island counter to where Kira worked near the stove. He stroked her back.
“I’m making a chocolate cake.” She pointed to the cooling, spongy brown slab on the surface near the window. “It still needs to be iced. That’s for dessert.”
Okay, that would account for the white and brown dust on the counter.
“And I’m making chicken tikka. It’ll be wonderful for this cold weather. Hedori said he’d do the garlic naan. Taste.” She held out a spoon filled with chicken pieces congealing in a thickened, orangey-red sauce. Her gorgeous face flushed either from the heat or excitement.
He took the ladle between his lips aaand his mind shut down at heat exploding in his mouth.
“What the—?” Fuuuuck! He gasped, eyes watering. A chair dragged somewhere.
Echo hurried to where Hedori worked at the counter opposite the stove, marinating steaks. They both frantically shook their heads at Týr from behind Kira’s back. The females seated at the dining table eyed him with wry sympathy.
He swallowed the hot-as-fuck, tasteless mess instead of spitting it out.
“You don’t like it?” At her small voice, he glanced at Kira, hoping like hell he still had taste buds left after that fiery detonation in his mouth.
“Did you even taste this?” He struggled not to growl, but it came out as a gasp anyway. Damn, he badly needed water, so sure all the seasoning in the cupboards of the scorching variety were in the chicken. But something had him staying put and not bolting for the faucet.
“I’m a vegetarian, remember?”
“Figures.”
She glared at him. Tossing the spoon onto the counter, she took off, the door slamming shut behind her.
Hedori shook his head. “Silence is always good, sire. I would have rescued it.”
And then Týr realized why all the other females sat there with pity on their faces. He, dumbass that he was, didn’t even wonder. Hell, why would he suspect that his own mate would try to kill him with food?
He went after her.
Tracking her vibe of ire, he found her in their room, pulling on her fleece-lined jacket. She didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see Gran.”
“Kira—”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Baby—”
“No.”
“Dammit, listen to me. I’m sorry, I guess my palate’s not used to…” Fuck, how to save this catastrophe. “Er, all the chili seasoning.”
She blinked. “Is that what it was? It did look a tad red. I thought it was mild curry spices.”
“In the future, please ask Hedori if you’re not sure, okay?”
After an endlessly long minute of fiddling with a button on her jacket and biting her lower lip, she looked up. “I’m not very good, am I?”
Hell. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. How did he answer? Mess up again, and the sleep-on-the-fucking-couch-for-the-foreseeable-future would be set in stone for him.
Then, she laughed, a deep, bellyaching sound that made his lips kick up in response. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad anymore. But my friends eat everything I make. Every. Time. Even Hedori. God, I love them!”
His heart turned to mush. Hell, he didn’t care that she couldn’t cook. He cupped her face in his palms. Needing to taste some of her laughter, he kissed her mouth. “No, they love you, it’s why they accept the torture.”
“But not you.” She cut him a gimlet glare.
“Sweetheart, I ate that, didn’t I? I even swallowed. If that doesn’t prove my fervent adoration, I don’t know what will.”
“Har-dee-har!” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get it right, and you will taste for me again.”
Shit. “On that note of anticipation…” And sheer dread, he drew her into his arms and kissed her brow, unable to stop his smile. He was so fucking happy. “Let’s go. Your grandmother must be anxious to see you.”
Chapter 26
Kira stood on the porch of the brownstone, inhaling lungfuls of the icy air. The ever-sturdy creepers trailing the lattice around the doorway swayed merrily in the chilly breeze. If only she could reap a little of the carefreeness from the plant.
“Lila’s a strong, capable woman,” Týr said softly from her side. “She’s not going to run screaming for the hills at the truth.” He put a palm on her taut back, urging her to enter. “It’ll be okay.”
God, she hoped so. And Týr had a point. With Gran being steeped in the supernatural world, she wouldn’t freak out. She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Thanks for being here.”
“As if I’d leave you alone to face something this important. Now, let’s go in and get this done.”
Kira opened the door to sounds of pans clattering in the kitchen. “Gran? It’s me.”
/> Footsteps sounded, and her beloved grandmother appeared in the doorway, her smile widening with relief. She smoothed back the loose strands of her braided hair. “I waited for you after your warrior texted that you were both back.”
Her hair shimmered silver under the lights as she passed, her color a little ashen—probably worrying too much. Kira darted over and hugged her. “I’ve missed you. Are you all right?”
“I’m well. Thank the universe you are, too,” she murmured. Kira kissed her cheek, inhaling her familiar scent of minty herbs and incense. Gran eased back. “Come, I have tea and cake ready for you both.”
Kira followed her grandmother into the kitchen, stopping near the wooden table set with a plate of iced cupcakes. She sent Týr a nervous look. He gave a nod of encouragement and leaned against the kitchen cupboard near the doorway, folding his arms over his chest.
As Gran laid out cups and poured tea, Kira pulled off her jacket and draped it over the chair. Inhaling deeply, she sat down and gratefully wrapped her cold fingers around the warm porcelain.
“Did you find the shadow hunting you?” Gran asked, taking a seat and giving Kira the opening she needed.
“No, not yet.” Kira swallowed nervously. While her friends knew the truth of her disappearance, they hadn’t told Gran anything. Her heart clopping hard in her chest, she blurted, “I was with my father. Gran, he’s not dead like we thought.”
Her grandmother looked up from her tea and stilled. One could have heard a beetle scuttling across the floor in the dead silence. It took Kira a minute to realize she didn’t seem surprised.
“You knew?” she croaked. “He told me you didn’t…oh, Lord, of course!” She jumped up and gripped the back of her chair. “Father couldn’t erase your memories, could he? Not when you’re magic yourself, being an Oracle and all.”
“I just wanted you to have a normal life.”
Normal? Kira spun away to glare out the window, struggling to breathe through her hurt. They’d deprived her of at least knowing one parent. The betrayal cut deep. Still, she could understand why they’d done it, especially considering who her father was.
So, she pulled in her hurt and shut it off, rubbing her shaky palms down her jeans. Then something else struck her. She pivoted to her grandmother. “Do you know what he is?”
Gran watched her for a silent second before she nodded.
“Then why couldn’t you tell me? Gran, I’m twenty-five! Do you realize how terrified I was at being abducted and taken to the Dark Realm because I wouldn’t willingly go? Don’t you think, even five years ago, that I was old enough to understand why you hadn’t said anything when I was younger?”
“I couldn’t—”
“How can you say that? My father lives on another realm for godsakes. He’s a Sin! Of course, he’s never going to be like normal fathers. And my mother? There isn’t even a grave I can go to talk to her! Do you know what it felt like going to school plays and piano recitals with no parents? You should have told me, at least then, I wouldn’t have felt so alone.” The words poured out in a flood, unshed tears thickening her throat.
“You want to know why I never reveal my true hair color anymore, Gran?” she asked, yanking at the spirally strands. Warm, callused hands grasped hers, stopping her from tugging at her hair. “Because the kids called me snowflake. Said it looked like snow falling on sand. I laughed it off, but in here,”—she thumped her chest with her other hand—“it hurt so much. When I got home, I wanted to cut it all off. The next thing I knew, it had turned brown.”
Gran pushed to her feet. “I know, my dearest child. I know your heartache and pain. I did my best to ease them and make up for what you lacked, but it appears I have missed so much more.”
Her dark eyes flickered with torment, her expression one of sorrow, but Kira was too upset to comfort her. She pushed away from Týr and paced the length of the table, rubbing her hot face. Týr remained close, his stare not moving off her.
“Nothing is what it seems, not in our world,” Gran said quietly, causing her to halt. “I did everything in my power to keep you safe from detection, but there was always a time limit to it. I hope you understand and I beseech you…if not for your forgiveness, then for your understanding about what I too must reveal.”
Kira narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like the sound of this. Týr stilled, making her even warier. A light emitted from her grandmother, one so bright that Kira stumbled back in alarm, almost blinded by the brilliance. Týr yanked her to him, and she pressed her face against his chest.
“Shit,” he cursed. “You—you opened the portal for me.”
What? Kira looked up in confusion. At the absolute shock on Týr’s face, her heart locked in her throat. She glanced back.
A woman, probably a few years older than herself, with hair like shimmery white satin flowing down to her hips, and skin the color of pale mocha stood there. Familiar, inky-black eyes watched her warily, only now sparks of starlight glimmered in their depths.
“Gran?” Kira blinked at the stranger. “No-no!” she breathed, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest in fear. Tears thickened her throat as she shook her head in denial.
She’d seen too much and knew how Others used humans with little care for their lives. Her friends were a living testament to this. Darci had been a receptacle, housing Blaéz’s soul, and would have died once she released it. Shae’s beloved uncle was just a facade for an evil fallen angel to hide behind while he tried to reap her mother’s psionic power.
Now, they’d done something to Gran. “You bring her back, now!”
The woman’s otherworldly eyes clouded. “Kira, she is me, and I am her. We are one and the same.”
“No, you lie! Bring her back right now—” A sob broke free. “Oh, God, please bring her back.”
Grief tightened the woman’s face. “She passed on just after you turned five.”
The sensation of falling, of toppling off a precipice gripped Kira. Except she was still standing in a kitchen she’d grown up in, but nothing was the same anymore.
Týr drew her to him and held her in his embrace. “I’m here,” he whispered, his lips brushing her hair, his one hand gently rubbing her back.
God. Kira shut her eyes and held him tight, praying this was all a nightmare.
“Without a supernatural caregiver, I couldn’t leave you alone.” At the woman’s low voice, Kira focused on her once more. “You would have drawn every evil out there because you are a rarity, part of both the dark and the light. Your sire bound you from detection but declared it would become void on your twenty-fifth year. Lila was to have prepared you, but she passed before she could do so. Despite being an Oracle, and an unusually powerful one, she was still human. She grew sick. Her heart got weaker, and it gave out just after your fifth birthday. I didn’t want you to pine for her—you were quite attached to Lila—so I assumed the role, using her glamour.”
“Tell me one thing?” Kira rasped, feeling as if her world were a landslide, and she could do little to stop the horrific crash waiting below. “Does my father know all this?”
“No. It is not easy when forces more powerful than you can comprehend are at work,” the woman said quietly. “I couldn’t say anything to anyone about what or who I was. The risk was too great. Not for me so much…but, even the wind talks.”
“You mentioned that before, that night in the alley,” Týr said, his arms still banding around Kira. “About the winds.”
The woman nodded. “We can listen to the winds—to any whispers from continents away. It’s why this brownstone that Hedori warded was ideal for Kira to grow up in.” Those inhuman eyes with their stars held Kira’s. The woman smoothed back a loose strand of hair, causing a fresh burst of pain in her at the familiar gesture. “I tried to give you a good, safe life.”
“Oh, right. That makes everything a-okay—” An anguished laugh morphed into a sob. “I loved the illusion you created so much that it’s tearing me apart inside. So, yeah, if
destroying everything I-I love makes my life freakin’ perfect, then I guess it is.”
“My dearest child—”
“Don’t call me that.” Her fingers dug into Týr’s forearms wrapped around her. “I’m nothing to you. Just a pawn for whatever games you all play!”
The woman lowered her gaze. When she looked up again, her irises burned a searing white, every bit of black having disappeared. “It wasn’t a game. It was the only way I could stay with you, Kira. To keep you safe. I would have done anything to protect you. But more, I longed to be with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your mother.”
At the primordial power sliding over him, Týr could barely breathe or move, let alone hold onto his trembling mate. Shit, this female had to be older than Michael…maybe, even Wrath.
“No—” Kira jerked free of his grip, her back hitting the kitchen cabinet. Plates rattled. “My mother’s dead!” Wide-eyed, she stared at the female, shaking her head, her skin pale beneath her normal tan. It scared the hell out of him.
Týr’s gaze snapped to the female responsible for his mate’s agony. Her bright glow had dulled to a faint halo. “What the hell are you? Yeah, yeah, you said you’re Kira’s mom.”
The woman rubbed her temples wearily. “My name is Luceré. The few who know of us, refer to us as the Ancients—or the Lights.”
Ancients? Týr frowned. He’d heard of them, beings that probably came into existence at the time of creation. They were revered and sacred because of their immense power. Almost holy. But he never knew of any to take corporeal form. They usually remained in an invisible state and watched over new realms, helping them flourish. Over the millennia, they’d faded away, which is why Týr had thought them a myth.
“So, you’re powerful.” Kira glared at Luceré. “You could have saved Gran, but you didn’t.”
“We cannot interfere in mortal lives.”
“Of course, not. You may be this light, but clearly, you didn’t give a thought to what everything you did could do to me.” Her eyes swam with tears. “Why didn’t you just let Gran pass on and resume your own form? Then it wouldn’t have been this devastating. Why?” she begged for an answer as if needing something to anchor her.
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