Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 2

  “I’ll go get my coat.” Lila hurried off.

  Kira stomped past him with no outdoor wear or scarf. Hell, he’d never known lush lips could thin so much. Týr followed her out into the freezing weather. “Where’s your jacket?”

  “I’m hot.”

  “Yeah, you are,” he muttered under his breath.

  Her head snapped to him, eyes flashing in suspicion.

  He cast her an innocent stare.

  Scowling, she went back to slaying the trees with her glower.

  He shook his head wryly. It must be the drugged air from so many flowers in the castle responsible for him uttering such provocative nonsense.

  Ever since he’d first met her a year ago in that dingy club downtown, in an odd way she’d brought light to the shadows that haunted him, distracting him from his nightmarish past. But he was bad news all around.

  He destroyed things…people.

  Hell, he should back off. But when it came to this female, she was like his very own catnip. He couldn’t stop needling her…waiting for a reaction, which her sharp tongue never failed to deliver. Fates. He had to stop this madness.

  Teeth clamped, he pulled on his jacket and patted the pockets for his candies. He found the two crinkly packages and stilled, eyes narrowing.

  Why was she in such a rush to leave?

  She’d said work. He didn’t buy it. Not this late.

  He’d heard Echo rag on her about changing boyfriends as frequently as she did her hair color. And recently, she rarely came by the castle. Until the wedding…

  Another date with some worthless human loser?

  “I’m ready, Warrior.” Lila reappeared, her coat on, distracting him from the churning pit in his gut. She shut the door and slid her hand to the crook of his arm, holding on tightly. Kira merely touched his other leather-clad arm with her fingertips.

  Dematerializing with humans was always a risk if they suddenly let go.

  But at her reluctance to touch him, Týr grit back his irritation, grasped her icy fingers and hauled her close. She stumbled into him and gasped. It sure as hell gave him a punch of satisfaction flustering her. But too late he realized the futility of his actions as his own torture surfaced and her warmth and fragrance wrapped around him like a hug. Her wary gaze met his for an infinitesimal second longer before sliding away.

  Hell, she was perfect…while he was a tragedy waiting to happen.

  Before thoughts hauled him into a place he could never cross, he let their molecules dissolve, transferring them to their home. As the Oracle’s granddaughter, not only was Kira totally off-limits, she was human. Forbidden.

  Kira Smith utterly disliked being transported home or anywhere as a clump of molecules. Dematerializing as the Guardians called it set her teeth on edge. She really hated the sensation of nothingness.

  In the foliage-concealed archway entrance of their brownstone in the Village, the three of them reformed. Kira’s woozy head made her pay for this deviation at what mortals could and couldn’t do. More, it made her all too aware of him—not like she could ignore him, even for an instant.

  The former Norse deity drove her batshit crazy with his need to provoke her every time their paths crossed. And right now, she needed clarity.

  Kira unlocked the door and ran up the wooden stairs to her cozy, green and pink bedroom. The digital bedside clock glared its time in neon red. Darn, it was almost ten.

  She undressed, hauled on jeans and a sweater, then wrestled with the pins holding up the elegant updo she’d sported for the wedding. With the last pin freed, her sprayed hair tumbled down like a bird’s nest. Kira sighed.

  With Gran not here, she’d have to find someone else to do her usual multiple, skinny-braid style she wore to keep her curly locks tamed. But the dark auburn color appeared dull and lifeless. Ugh.

  Out of habit, she touched her hair, willing it to a brighter, reddish-brown tone, and the new shade swept through her strands in a glimmer. It was a good thing she didn’t have to waste dollars on tinting her own anemic mane. But really, why couldn’t she have a more credible ability like tracking missing kids?

  “Kira?” Her grandmother appeared in the doorway, pulling her outdoor coat on over her sweater and slacks. “Won’t you reconsider staying at the castle?”

  With him there? After three days in his company and barely surviving his toying…nope, not even if she were homeless. Týr might appear easygoing with that droll humor of his, but as far as she was concerned, he had all the charm of a beautiful, swaying cobra. Compelling, the strike deadly. Avoidance was really, really good right now.

  She raked the stiff strands loose with her fingers, and started braiding her hair. “I’ll be fine here.”

  “Kira—”

  “Gran,” she groaned. “We already spoke about this.”

  “I know. It’s just that…” Lines creased her brow, anxiety darkening Gran’s beloved features. After a moment, she sighed and nodded. “Very well, just be careful.”

  “I always am.” Kira grinned in relief as she tied the ends of her hair. “You are going to be here for my birthday, right?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Unless—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Unless it’s a matter of life and death.” It always was. Her grandmother had to be the most protective woman ever, but tonight was different. Kira felt it deep in her bones. “Gran, are you okay?”

  She gently patted Kira’s cheek. “Coven matters are forever a concern, but I’m fine. Here…” She pulled out an intricately beaded bracelet in turquoise, silver, and black from her coat pocket, Kira’s favorite colors, and handed it to her. “I made this for you…” Gran’s head cocked as if listening to something. “Ah, my cab’s almost here.”

  Kira heard nothing, but then her grandmother often sensed things. She fastened the bracelet on her wrist and followed Gran out of the room.

  “Child, I can catch a cab just fine. No need to shadow me. Go put on your boots. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

  Gran never phoned while secreted at the conclave, something about rules they had to live by. And contact with the outside world was a definite no-no.

  Kira had been a year old when her parents died, and now the only family she had was leaving again to go to another of her coven meetings. Despite her grandmother being a powerful Oracle, trouble could still find her, be it human or supernatural.

  Sheesh, she wasn’t going to send out bad vibes into the universe now. She had more pressing concerns. And the main reason she’d left the reception early. Liam.

  He worked at The Shelter and had messaged her during the celebration about the homeless child she’d help settle there. Seemed the boy, Tomas, had run off again. Those horrible alleys weren’t safe for an eight-year-old. In fact, they weren’t safe for anyone. She ought to know.

  Liam had also mentioned something about street children disappearing. He must have heard wrong. The homeless—especially the kids—moved about often.

  Her cell beeped, distracting her. A quick glance at the display had her sighing. Elias Mathews. A guy she’d dated briefly several months ago. Sure, she’d liked him, but despite his suave appearance and charm, there hadn’t been any spark.

  She had only one dating rule; if the magic didn’t appear by the third date, she called it quits. Echo teased her about frequently changing boyfriends, but she wanted the magic. That instant connection when she met her other half. She didn’t see the point in prolonging something that would never amount to anything.

  Message deleted, she slipped one iron dagger into the sheath hidden beneath her long jacket and another in her boot. Her cell stashed in her pocket, she left the room and ran down the wooden stairs, only to come to a screeching halt at the bottom. The air whooshed out of her lungs in shock at the pale-haired immortal leaning against the unlit fireplace mantel, in the open-plan living and dining room, perusing a book.

  Many words sprang to mind as she glared at him; arrogant, infuriating, too handsome for his own go
od. Yes, he was absurdly beautiful, but it was the hard beauty of a warrior. Power etched the defined planes of his face and carved every inch of his tough body. Even the recent arc-shape lesion he sported on his chiseled jaw didn’t mar his perfection. Or negate just how much of a thorn in her side he was.

  Absently, he shoved at the overlong wheat-colored lock of hair that persisted in falling over his brow, making her want to brush it back. Sheesh. Kira fisted her fingers, giving herself a mental smack upside the head. She must have lost her ever-loving mind. “Why are you still here?”

  Týr looked up and smiled, sarcasm in all its refined glory quirking his lips and animating those slashing, masculine dimples scoring his cheeks. Eyes the most exotic shade of pale toffee glinted from under darker eyebrows. He waved the paperback he held at her. “You really believe this claptrap?”

  God, why do you hate me?

  Biting the inside of her lip so she wouldn’t growl, she marched over, snatched her favorite romance novel from his hand, and got snagged by that overwhelming presence of his. She considered herself tall at five foot ten, but with him around and towering over her, she felt like a midget…one who now couldn’t breathe.

  Irritated at letting him get beneath her skin, Kira stomped to the dining room table, dropped the book, and reiterated, “Why are you still here?”

  A brow rose, disappearing beneath a hunk of pale strands. He eyed her as if she’d lost some brain cells. “Waiting to take you to work.”

  No. No way!

  “Save it,” he countered before she even opened her mouth, steel underscoring his tone. “I promised Lila I’d keep an eye on things. I’m it, Fluff. Let’s go.”

  Things? She was a thing now?

  Words failed her for the first time in days. Her mouth opened and closed in helpless frustration. Is this how a netted fish felt when cornered by a circling shark?

  His gaze drifted over her hair, and the amusement rolled back. “It must be really hard to rein in that temper.”

  She hated that her emotions showed in such a physical way. Right then, she gave two hoots that glimmers of reds had probably appeared in her braid—a curse that had started a year or so ago. Most times, she could control it—except for when he was around. Dammit, she had to get rid of him. Liam would be here soon.

  If the bane of her life found out that she wasn’t actually going to work or learned the truth of what she was about, without a doubt, he’d toss her into the castle dungeon and leave her there to rot until Gran came back.

  Like the other Guardians, Týr possessed the same inexorable need to protect those he saw as weaker than him. Except, with him, he’d probably enjoy locking her away.

  Kira shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, her fingers wrapping around her cell, aggravated up to her tired brain. What should she do now? She fingered her phone—

  Yesss. She bit back a smile at her easy fix.

  Týr headed for the door. “C’mon, let’s move.”

  “In a minute, forgot my cell.”

  “Fluff, don’t waste my time—”

  “If you have to clock in, go ahead and leave.” With an airy wave, she ran back upstairs. In the safety of her room, she quickly typed a message to Liam. She didn’t dare call him, not with ears around that could probably hear an ant sneeze.

  Meet you at the bar in 30 minutes. Text sent off, she inhaled a huge breath and prayed for patience. Right. The quicker she did as her nemesis demanded, the sooner she could get rid of him. She hurried back down.

  Týr stood exactly where she’d left him, midway to the door, eyes narrowed, reminding her that beneath all that pretty gloss he was a deadly Guardian.

  He couldn’t have heard her texting, could he? Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had. Without a word, she marched for the door, yanked it open, and stepped out into the chilly night with him on her heels.

  As she turned to lock up, her arm brushed his, and that tingle ricocheted through her again, as if she’d touched a live wire. She inhaled sharply. Oh, no-no. No tingling. No nothing zipping anywhere!

  The first time it had happened had been earlier tonight when he escorted her to the reception. It had been unexpected, shocking her into silence.

  A little off-kilter, Kira clamped her mouth shut and waited since he was already locking the door. Then she held out her hand.

  He pocketed the key. “When you’re ready to head back, call me.”

  “So, you keep my home key prisoner?”

  “Points to the mortal.” He swiped the cell she held, tapped in something, and handed it back. “You have my number.” With that stellar news, as if she sooo wanted to call him, he loped down the steps. “C’mon, Fluff, I need to get back on patrol, and you’re still wasting time.”

  If she killed him— Ugh, the big lout couldn’t die. He’d probably just come back after regenerating and make her life even more miserable. Scowling, she followed him to a grove of trees down the street. He stopped in the shadows and waited, a brow arched.

  Hanging on to her nonchalance by her teeth, she put her hand on his jacket-clad arm. He snorted, and with a sharp tug, hauled her close.

  Kira stumbled into his hard, warm body. She hastily slapped her palms on his chest, putting much-needed inches between them as that unsettling awareness crept through her again. “Must you do that?”

  “I live for it.” He cut her a sardonic look. “Wait, did you think I had some nefarious plans with that delectable body of yours? Rest assured, I don’t.”

  She wanted to hit him. Instead, she squeaked, grabbing him as he dematerialized them.

  A short while later, they reformed. God. Kira groaned and clutched his leather jacket. She rested her brow on his chest as her nausea slowly settled, trying to find her equilibrium. But his taunting scent of warm, woodsy citrus with cool, green pines crowded her lungs, and that twisting sensation in her tummy sprang up again. Oh, boy. She didn’t want to be aware of him. She really didn’t. Struggling for a cool demeanor, she pushed away and made her way up the alley.

  The stench from corpulent trash bags piled against the building and exhaust fumes was a familiar welcome to the Lower East Side.

  Týr shadowed her, equally quiet, probably ecstatic to finally get rid of her. As they neared the Peacock Lounge where she worked, he slowed his steps. “See you at one.”

  With the threat hanging in the air, he disappeared into the night like the creature of darkness he should be. Instead, he looked like some sun god, all shiny-bright and golden.

  Kira stared after him. Humans had it so wrong. The gods existed, and she rubbed shoulders with them most days. But this animosity between Týr and her was likely her fault. Every time he said something, she took umbrage. How else could she keep him at arm’s-length?

  He was trouble.

  A year ago, in Club Anarchy, she’d been on her way to the restroom when she first laid eyes on him. Even before she knew who he was, she’d been drawn to him. Sure, he was ridiculously handsome, possessed a tough, sexy body and had a dangerously dark charisma, but something about him had tugged at her. Then she’d seen him in action. Seen that smirk of his as the women crowded him. Yup, drawn right back.

  Only, he’d shown up at her table a little later, and on her birthday had snapped at her to get her ass moving since he was there to see her safely home.

  Her, he barked at, but the others, he let them drool over him.

  Whatever attraction she felt had died a swift death. She wanted a match to her heart. And he wasn’t it.

  “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about your leave and have come back to work early?”

  At her boss’s harried tone, Kira grinned, leaning her forearms on the mahogany-stained wooden counter, lucky to get a space there. As usual, the bar was packed and noisy, the smell of grilling burgers and malted beer flooding the place. “Nope. Just here to meet someone.”

  Brian’s overgrown, bushy, gray brows popped in surprise. “You have another date?”

  Actually,
Elias had been her last date—many months ago—not that her boss was interested. She laughed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing. But, no.”

  He sighed. “Just my luck. I’m about to lose one of my best waitress-slash-bartenders.”

  “I’ve been with you for nearly seven years and your sometimes-bartender for the last three. It’s time for a change, Brian. The big, wide world calls.”

  He set a soda in front of her, waving off the money she held out. “I’m sure,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “But it won’t stop me from trying to change your mind with the two weeks I have.” He moved off to serve another customer.

  Kira traced a finger down the misty can. A new job?

  She hadn’t realized that she wanted one until a few weeks ago. After helping Tomas settle at The Shelter, she knew she’d found something worthwhile to dedicate her life to instead of encouraging people to become future candidates for Alcoholics Anonymous. As if the world didn’t have enough problems.

  First, she needed some time away to get rid of this restlessness crawling through her. Maybe she’d travel a bit. Her parents had left her financially well provided for. She didn’t need to work. And bumping into Tomas had shown her a new way, but he’d run off again.

  The main door opened. People swarmed inside and out of the cold like buzzing bees. Too fidgety to remain still, perhaps it would be better if she waited for Liam outside.

  “Brian,” she yelled. “Raincheck on my soda. I gotta go.”

  Kira scurried off, dodging the people surging into the bar. And crashed into a tall guy. “Sorry—” She leaped back. “I didn’t see…” The rest of her apology died when she looked up at him.

  Sporting bronze hair shorn almost to his skull, the man cast her a cursory look, then sidestepped her and moved on, stopping a few meters away to survey the crowd. Dressed all in black, he looked like he should be hanging out with the Guardians, killing evil demons and such. Yep, he’d probably give them some competition with his badass vibe and striking good looks. However, the sense of familiarity sweeping through her had her brow knitting in confusion.