Chapter 27
As her molecules resettled,Kira stumbled before she gained her footing on a snow-laden terrace, finding it hard to breathe at the overwhelming pain spilling through her. It was as if someone were carving out her heart.
But even knowing she’d somehow miraculously managed to flash, dematerialize, whatever, didn’t even make a dent in her pain.
Dashing at her blurry eyes, she sniffed and glanced around her. The sounds of balls crashing against wood drifted to her. She was back at the castle, and near the rec room.
Not wanting anyone to see her like this, she trudged off to the gardens, her boots crunching through the frozen surface of the snow and grass to the mush beneath.
Her entire life had been a lie, a mirage. Nothing was real. She just had to be an odd duck again, created from two polar opposite beings who weren’t even a figment of the imagination. Clearly, her father had more empathy than her mother. Kira still couldn’t get past the fact that her “mother” had been there all along—she even knew her pain and had done nothing.
Kira wrapped her arms around her waist, staring blankly at the gazebo trapped on the island surrounded by the frozen lake. Late noon sunlight bounced off its icy surface. The air shifted, and the fine hairs on her arms rose. She spun around just as a large figure emerged near her. Her mate’s anxious gaze skimmed over her face. “Come.” Týr held out his hand. “It’s too cold out here. Let’s go inside.”
“I’m not cold. Look—” She stuck out her arms. “I’m whole again. Now, I can disappear when I want. Cool, right?”
“Kira—”
“But great news, huh? I have parents. A Sin for a father, and a mother who is an Ancient, whatever that means.”
“Kira—”
“Hey, let’s go to the cabin. It’s nicer there.” She grabbed his hand.
He simply pulled her into his warm body and hugged her tightly. “You’re hurting. I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care who your parents are, you are all that matters to me.”
The numbness cementing her chest cracked. Tears fell in a deluge as harsh sobs broke free, the pain inside her consuming her whole…
Týr simply held her in his arms, one palm rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles until the flood finally slowed, and only hiccupping breaths remained. She inhaled a huge gulp of air and pressed her hot face against his chest, the even thump of his heart a soothing sound. His warm lips brushed her brow in a soft kiss.
Kira released his sweater she’d bunched in her fists, then retrieved the tissues from her jeans pocket and wiped her runny nose, grateful he didn’t spout meaningless words like “it’ll be all right”or some crap like that. This was life-changing for her—a reality she’d never expected. Now, she had to find a way to deal with it.
“I-I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I must seem petty for running off like that when I should be ecstatic that both of my parents are still alive.”
“It’s not petty. You just had the life you knew ripped apart. It’s understandable.” He removed his leather jacket and put it around her shoulders. She slipped her arms into the overlong sleeves, relishing his warmth and in his comforting masculine scent. Týr zipped the jacket closed. “I’m the last one to offer advice on this,” he said quietly, “but considering who they are, they’re bound to come with a shitload of baggage.”
Kira lifted her wet gaze to his. “What do you mean you’re the last person to offer advice?” she asked, ignoring his latter comment.
He slipped his hands into his jeans’ pockets, his features shadowed. “Mymóðirdied a short while after I was born, and Hel raised me. For a long time, I believed her to be my mother, and the realm of Niflheim, my home.”
Kira frowned. Even though he’d told her what had occurred when he was a protector to the Goddess of Life and about the atrocious things he’d endured while in Tartarus, not once had he mentioned his family. “Who is she?”
“Do you know anything about the Norse pantheon?” Týr asked instead.
She rubbed her damp cheeks. “Not much, except for what I’ve seen in movies.”
A grimace crossed his face. “Right. Not everything humans portray about the gods is correct, Kira. They would never put it all out there for everyone to know. My sire adopted Hel and her sibling, Loki, as children, after their parents died in a skirmish. They grew up with my much older brother. I was born centuries later. Anyway, Hel took me in since my sire was lost to his grief at the death of my mother, and the rest simply overlooked a wailing child. She was good to me. But in my seventh year, she sent me back to my father. Said she couldn’t keep me in Niflheim any longer—she ruled there as the Goddess of the Dead, but she wasn’t quite herself anymore. I didn’t want to leave. But she refused to let me stay.”
“Why?”
A shrug. Absently, he shoved back the falling hunk of hair off his brow, his attention on the gazebo. “I didn’t understand then, I only knew she didn’t want me. Years later, I learned why. Her form was changing. She was starting to appear and behave more like Death itself.”
“I’m sorry.” Kira put her hand on his back. The devastation he must have suffered at that tender age. Not being wanted must have been excruciating. Gran—hermother—had, though. Unable to deal withthatnow, she shut off the thought. “It was cruel of your father to ignore you.”
“He wasn’t intentionally cruel, just trying to live the best way he could without his mate. She died protecting me from one of his many enemies who’d broken into our home, but he chose not to follow her into death as destined mates can do. Life back at the pantheon was okay, I suppose. I had Narfi and Fenrir, Loki’s offspring, as friends.”
Týr raised his hand. A small ball of fire sparked, hovering above his palm. His mouth tightened as he stared at the thing. “Then I turned ten summers, and it all went to hell. We were at the river, building a fire, except I wasn’t aware my pyrokinesis had come into being and I accidentally hurt Narfi—”
“You burned him?”
