Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 4

  Liam took off. Since she couldn’t go back to the brownstone without a key—because he had it—she clamped down her frustration and pulled out her cell from her jacket pocket to call for retrieval.

  So freaking irritating to have no say in her own life anymore.

  Chapter 3

  “The Oracle would be pleased you’ve chosen to stay at the castle during her absence, Kira,” Hedori said with a warm smile as they headed indoors a few minutes later. “Excuse me. I have to make sure all is put to rights in the rec room again. Echo’s in the kitchen if you’re looking for her.”

  “Th-thank you…” She kept her breathing shallow. Darn, her chest still hurt. At least her face no longer did. The wound there had strangely healed.

  After another considering glance, Hedori disappeared down the long corridor.

  Did she still have blood on her face? Kira grabbed the hem of her sweater and scrubbed her cheek, hoping she’d gotten it all. She eyed the stairs, sorely tempted to hibernate in the bedroom she occupied whenever she stayed over, but then she’d be trapped. She swallowed a groan. How did her life get so complicated? Usually, she did whatever she pleased. And as long as she came home at a certain time, Gran was happy. No one policed her for her activities.

  Now, she had a hulking, raving-mad beast at her back. Gaaaaah!

  Might as well face him and get this out of her way because, gut-deep, Kira knew Týr would come after her.

  Sighing, she trudged to the kitchen and opened the door. The mouth-watering aroma of something chocolatey greeted her. She found Echo at the island counter that separated the spacious kitchen with its oak cupboards and sweeping gray granite counters from the dining area.

  Her friend looked up from pouring cocoa, a relieved smile brightening her unusual, bi-colored amber and silver eyes, the colors a startling contrast to her honey-gold skin and raven-black hair. The latter she wore in a spikily cut style that suited her angular features. “You’re back. I’m glad.”

  “Yeah.” Kira cut off a grimace and wandered to the closed French doors. Flurries gently floated to the ground. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at the flakes settling on the potted shrubs lining the terrace. And waited. For the storm to arrive at any moment now.

  “Come. Sit.”

  Rubbing her cheek again, Kira trudged over and dropped wearily into a chair. At least the pain in her chest had faded somewhat. Echo set mugs of cocoa on the massive dining table then slide a dessert plate with a slice of chocolate cheesecake to her, before taking the seat on the opposite side. Her friend arched a delicate brow and rubbed the shallow dimple in her chin. “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

  Man, where did she even start? Kira picked up her fork and speared a piece of cake. Before she could open her mouth, the ominous sounds of heavy footfalls had her biting back a groan.

  Well, then. Kira leaned back in her chair, keeping a casual mien as she ate a piece of gooey cheesecake that stuck in her throat. Týr stalked into the kitchen, the usual smirk on his face missing as if he’d left it somewhere in the backstreet downtown. He just stood there and stared at her.

  Instead of rolling her eyes at his intimidation tactics, Kira airily pushed to her feet. “Echo, excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  She brushed past Týr and marched down the corridor. He followed closely behind like a darn shadow, making her too aware of him. She spun around and glared, walking backwards now. “I don’t know what you’re so peeved for.”

  He grasped her arm and pulled her into the rec room like she’d forgotten how to walk. Every sign of the wedding reception from a few hours ago had been erased. Kira stomped over to the other side. The foosball table was back in place, along with the pool table. The central leather couches were once more set in front of the huge flat-screen TV, adjacent to the arcade games.

  Everything appeared normal…except for her. And him.

  She stopped near the bar, but at the ominous click of the door, she wheeled around, anxiety nipping at her like teeth. Týr leaned against the wooden panel. Dressed in his all black patrolling gear, man, he was way too huge and menacing right now. His face a cold, dangerous mask. All hard, sculpted angles and raw power…and so annoyingly perfect.

  “What the hell were you thinking, going into those alleys? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

  Wow, seriously worked-up. Kira bit her lip, not about to admit to anything, let alone how worried she’d been about Tomas. She still was.

  “You lied.”

  Man, both he and Tomas all in a tizz because she’d supposedly lied. Well, she did, but only to him.

  “How long did you wait at the bar?” His tone matched his icy stare as he strode toward her. “Did you head out right after I left?”

  Uh-oh. Kira hurriedly stepped back but forgot the bar counter that was behind her, stopping her retreat. Then she realized what she was doing. Sheesh.

  She straightened, eyes shooting daggers. “Let’s get a few things straight. One, you aren’t my keeper. Two, not that it’s any of your business, but I had to help someone.”

  “Is that so?” Týr’s lips curled into a chilly imitation of a smile. “Let’s examine these assumptions of yours. One, I don’t want to be your keeper, but you are under our protection. Two, that means if you’re in trouble… We. Get. Involved. Understand?”

  “Ugh! Why don’t you ignore me like you used to?”

  He grasped her wrist when she would have stomped off. “Believe me, it’s damn hard to do when you won’t listen. What were you doing in that alley filled with demons? Why the hell didn’t you run? You got hurt. Had it been a demon-bolt, you could have died!” Týr brought his face close to hers. The pale striations in his toffee-hued irises blazed like wildfire. His fury startled her a little.

  “Y-you licked my face.”

  “And that’s your argument?” His eyes held a dangerous glint.

  She scowled, annoyed at herself. But he scrambled her neurons with this unexpected side, acting like she mattered.

  “Yes, it certainly is. Why the hell did you lick me?”

  “Because those scourges were blood-demons. Your blood would have drawn more of the fuckers. I licked your injury because healing with my restorative ability would have taken time, which I didn’t have!”

  Oh. Kira’s face heated in embarrassment, and that twisty feeling in her stomach since the incident withered and died. “Well…” She sniffed. “Don’t do it again. I don’t like you touching me.”

  He dropped her wrist so fast, as if she were a disease-ridden rodent. “Now answer the damn question. What kind of friend…”—his tone dropped to lovely glacial levels—“led you into those alleyways?”

  She cradled her discarded hand against her chest, wanting so badly to rub away his touch, which left her utterly unsettled. With no other way out, and quite sure he’d just keep her there until she was old and gray if she didn’t answer, she blurted, “A boy at The Shelter ran off because I couldn’t get there to see him for a few days.”

  Týr stared at her for a terse second. Then he shook his head as if in disbelief. “Of course—”

  “What do you mean, of course?” One little untruth, and he thought everything she said was a lie? She glowered at him.

  “So, you’re his angel.”

  “Huh?”

  He appeared amused at whatever he’d discovered. “Tomas. It’s what he calls you.”

  Kira’s mouth dropped open. He could have hit her with a dead rat. “You know Tomas?”

  A brief nod. “Seen the boy around during patrol. Saw him tonight. He spoke of his angel, whom he’s going to marry.”

  Týr’s words sank in. Oh, no. Oh, crap! Finally, she understood why Tomas had been so upset earlier. In the dark, he’d probably thought Týr was kissing her, not licking her wounded face to heal it. The difference probably wouldn’t matter to a boy with a crush. Dammit, how could she have been so blind?

  “I have to go.” She spun for the door and found her w
ay blocked. Ugh, the damn man moved too freakin’ fast.

  “You aren’t going into any of those alleys again.” The hard smile was back as if to say, go ahead, test me.

  She scowled.

  Týr cocked a brow. “Since when do you rescue or care about street kids? I thought quenching the alcoholic thirst of humans was your job.”

  Did he think her a ditz because she often changed her hair color, read romance novels, and didn’t have a serious job? Is that why he called her Fluff?

  Choking down her resentment, Kira deliberately gave an airy shrug and started inspecting her blunt nails, the fury for reprisal burning her stomach. “I don’t. He’s a vagrant. Dirty…” She shuddered. “Loitering’s not allowed either in the front or back of the Peacock Lounge. So, I got The Shelter to take him away.”

  “Reeeally?”

  He packed so much sarcasm into those few syllables, Kira cast him an innocent look. “What?”

  Týr closed the small space between them. She hastily stepped back. His palms dropped to the wooden counter on either side of her. His masculine scent and body heat wrapped around her, scattering her thoughts like dandelion seeds in the wind.

  “So, why the urgency to find him if you don’t care about a dirty, vagrant kid?”

  At his cool stare, Kira blinked, then glared right back. Refusing to show how his nearness affected her, she lied, “I don’t want him back at the bar. He’s a nuisance, okay?”

  “Why the interest in Tomas, Kira?”

  Darn. He wasn’t going to budge.

  She recalled the day four months ago when she’d found the boy huddled near the dumpster behind the Peacock Lounge, sheltering himself from the downpour. He’d foraged scraps of food from the garbage and clutched it to his drenched chest. When he looked up at her and smiled despite his awful situation, something inside her melted.

  Sighing, she gave up the pretense. “Because I heard whispers at The Shelter of children disappearing, never to be seen again—not even on the streets. I don’t want anything to happen to him, okay?”

  Týr straightened, his eyebrows pulling together into a V. “You sure about those kids disappearing?”

  “No. I simply like running around in the darn cold on the night of my friend’s wedding,” she groused. “Of course, I’m sure.”

  He stared at her, the frown still in place. “Who told you this?”

  “Someone who works there overheard the guy who runs the place. It’s all really hush-hush. They probably don’t want to scare any of the occupants. I’m going to talk to them tomorrow.”

  “No, you’re not.” Týr rubbed his jaw then grimaced when he came in contact with the reddened wound there. Kira didn’t bother to correct his error.

  “You do realize he’s psychic, right?” he said.

  “Tomas?” Her eyes widened, and just as fast, anger ignited. “And you left him alone all this time? He’s a child. A target for those evil fiends!”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” he coolly pointed out. “We don’t go nabbing every human with a hint of psychic abilities. Just those who could be psi, and Tomas isn’t one. He’s male,” he said as if that made everything all right. “He appears to possess more of an awareness of Others, not any kinetic powers. The latter is what the demons go after. You know this.”

  After hanging around the Guardians for a year, naturally she did. Kira had heard all about the psionics, female descendants of the Watchers, some of whom could inherit those formidable abilities from their ancestors, something no human should have. Not only would every evil out there be drawn to them, but the human authorities would probably seize the psionics and use the women for their own sinister plans.

  “It doesn’t matter, I have to find him. That damn demon in the alley was hauling another homeless child away, and you did nothing—”

  “Don’t even go there.” Týr’s features morphed back into a stony mask. “I would have, but you got yourself into trouble. I will find him. You. Stay. Put.”

  Kira clenched her teeth in aggravation, refusing to lose her temper.

  She arched a brow and stepped closer, the toes of her boots bumping against his. “Do you really think I’m going to sit back and do nothing now that I know the truth?”

  His head lowered, his nose almost touching hers, eyes like iced toffee. “Your grandmother left your safety in my hands. If ensuring that means I have to tie you to your bed, so be it.”

  “Oh, my God—” Kira barely stopped herself from stomping her feet. “Gran and I sorted out this nonsense before we left here earlier. You. Were. There!”

  “No, she spoke to me after we arrived at the brownstone, and you escaped upstairs.”

  Kira’s entire body stiffened, betrayal stinging deeply. No wonder Gran had been so compliant about her staying alone. In helpless frustration, she pressed the heels of her palms to her tired eyes before she lifted her gaze to his. “Tomas is upset with me because he believes you’re my boyfriend. Do you honestly think he’s going to show himself when he sees you since you’re responsible for his misery?”

  A shrug rolled off a thick shoulder, his brow creasing a little. “Matters little. I know his scent and his psychic vibe, it’s just a matter of tracking him. But why would the little mischief think I’m your boyfriend? What did you tell him?”

  The man was utterly impossible. Kira rubbed her cheeks in resignation. She really, really didn’t want to talk about that incident again. But he made it difficult to leave it alone.

  “I told him nothing. Tomas saw you heal me in the alley and thought you were—well…anyway. He’s upset with me because I’m a clueless fool,” she muttered, still furious at herself. “I should have realized that he had a crush on me when he asked if I had a boyfriend. I honestly thought he was just being his usual snarky self. It’s why I have to find him, explain that there’s no chance in Hell you and I would be together, and take him back to The Shelter.”

  At her barbed comment, Týr didn’t react, merely said, “It’s too late, and he’s probably holed up somewhere for what’s left of the night. I have to get back on patrol. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

  Sometimes, it was like fighting with a damn wall. A low buzz started in her hands. “He’s my charge. I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

  “You’re so damn stubborn,” he growled, those toffee irises flaring.

  Sensing victory, she held onto her defiant expression until he muttered, “Fine. Tomorrow. One night. If he doesn’t show up, you’ll stay out of it, you get me?”

  Hiding her exultant expression, Kira merely nodded. Then she playfully bumped her fist against his chest. “What do ya know? A heart does beat in there.”

  A low rumble vibrated deep in his chest. “Don’t push your luck.”

  Happy she’d gotten this much leeway out of him, she smiled and stepped back. Later, she’d find a way to continue her search. She flexed her tingling fingers.

  He cut a sharp look at her clenched hands. “What’s wrong?”

  Man, he was far too observant. “Nothing.”

  Grunting, whether in acceptance or disbelief—though she suspected it was the latter—he pulled out a pack of M&M’s from his jacket pocket, dropped several of the candies into his palm, and continued. “With demons involved, this has just become the Guardians’ top priority.”

  Thank God. At least she could breathe a little easier knowing this, not that she’d ever tell him. His big fat, gloating head would never fit through the door if she did.

  Kira frowned as he sifted through the colors for the reds. Really? She bit back a smile.

  Eyeing him from beneath her lashes, she grabbed the lot off his palm, startled when the sweets all changed to green. Still, she shoveled them into her mouth and made for the door, happily crunching on her gains. Only she didn’t get far. He grasped her by the upper arm and hauled her back in a move so fast, she slapped a hand to his chest so she didn’t collide with him. Again.

  “You don’t pilfer my candies, c
hange their color, and take off.”

  Her mouth full of the gooey chocolate, she chewed, aware of the slow and steady thump of his heart under her palm…his warmth seeping through his shirt and into her skin. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face. But that intense stare of his…

  Her breath hitched. She hastily dropped her hand and swallowed the goo. “Or what?”

  “You’ll pay.” His cool gaze settled on her lips. “And you can be sure I’ll take every last one back.”

  Then he strolled out, leaving her gaping like a witless idiot.

  Chapter 4

  Týr left the rec room, so sure he’d just been put through the wringer in hand-to-hand combat with a cyborg masquerading as Fluff.

  Exhaling roughly, he rubbed the spot on his chest where she’d playfully touched him, trying to ignore his body’s heated response to her.

  What was he thinking, threatening her over a few sweets? But that acerbic mouth of hers was asking for trouble—and those damn dimples should be banned.

  Why was he surprised that she actually cared about those homeless kids? Hadn’t she jumped through a portal into Hell with him and Blaéz to try and save Echo?

  A smile started. He’d seen the temper she tried to control as she threw out shit about them being dirty vagrants to evade revealing the truth. The brilliant shades of crimson and green weaving through her hair like the rainbow said otherwise— His smile dropped.

  He wanted to punch the Celt-bastard for tagging her with the damn rainbow label.

  But Blaéz’s taunting premonitions of seeing Týr in some freakin’ storm where a rainbow flickered, hurtled through his already crammed skull. As if he needed any more shit in there.

  He headed for the foyer, opened the massive front door and stepped outside.

  It was just past three in the morning. During winter, the nights were longer. It should give him enough time to check whether the boy had turned up at The Shelter before he knocked off patrol.