“For putting you in the middle of this shit between Narfi and me. The bastard hurt you…” His breath sawed through his lips as if it were hard to speak. He shut his eyes and thumped his head back against the headboard. “Fucking hurt you…I wanted to make him bleed before I killed him.”
“Honey, it’s okay, I’m fine. See?” she hastily said and caressed his forearm, trying to bring him out of his guilt. When those pain-glazed eyes finally flicked open and met hers, she smiled.
He grasped her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. Lines creased his brow. “What were you doing there?” he rasped, his stare suddenly hard.
Kira barely stopped from rolling her eyes. “Gran, my real one, told me to…” She explained about Lila appearing in spectral form and what had occurred afterwards.
His eyes bore into hers. “Matters little. You should have left when I told you—”
“And you should know me better,” she shot back. “I wasn’t going to let that two-faced snake think he had the upper hand and torment you!”
“Dammit, Kira—” Frustration tightened his face. His chest heaved as if he fought a vicious battle within. Knowing him, it could only be rage at himself over the fact that he’d been injured and denied the satisfaction of seeing his nemesis bleed and die for what he’d done.
“I cared little about his taunts, I wanted to—shit!” He winced in pain.
She jumped up. “This talk can wait for later. Let me get my mother—”
“No…” he breathed. “I’m…fine.”
Stubborn immortal. Kira cut him a glare, which was wasted on him since he’d shut his eyes again. She sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re only hurting yourself getting mad now. Just so you know, Narfi did suffer—a damn lot—before he died,” she said with great satisfaction. “He thought he had all his bases covered. He forgot one fundamental thing about you. You are no longer powerless.Youincinerated him—turned him to a freakin’ pile of ash!”
“I don’t remember any of that. But I do vaguely recall those deadly red threads slicing him…” A smile started, chasing away the lines of pain bracketing his mouth. “My deadly mate,” he murmured. His eyelids snapped open. “My dagger!”
She frowned. “What about it?”
“Summon it.”
“Týr—”
“Do it, Kira.” A fierce light turned his irises to a molten gold.
She exhaled roughly, her fingertips smoothing the covers near his hips. “You know nothing’s going to change there. It didn’t happen last year or at the cabin. Anyway, I have my father’s weapon. It’s quite lethal…”
He grasped her fidgety hand. “Sure, it’s lethal. But I hate that you relied on it during the battle and couldn’t will it to you when it got half buried in the snow. Now, summon my dagger!”
“Look, if you want it so badly,youcall it.”
“I tried. It didn’t come to me.”
“What?” His words crashed in her ears, fear exploding in her heart. She stared at him in shock. Once his true mate touched his dagger, Týr would no longer be able to command it. “When?”
“Back at the cabin, during the fight with Narfi. Call it, Kira. Please.”
Unable to deny him, and feeling as if her entire life teetered on the edge of an abyss, she glowered. “Just so you know, if it doesn’t come to me, I will go and live with my father. In Stygia,” she added for good measure.
“You’re not going anywhere. Now, summon the damn thing,” he growled, impatient.
Scowling, she willed the obsidian dagger to her—the air shimmered. The next second, the blade appeared in her palm, glowing a warm, orangey-red.
Kira stared blankly at the mystical weapon, her mouth drying up. Goosebumps spread over her skin. After all this time, when she’d given up hope that it would ever happen for Týr and her, it had.
Tears started. With a sob of happiness and the dagger in her hand, Kira dove for him, wrapping her arms around his nape, her face buried in his neck. He let out a sharp groan.
“Oh, God—” She hastily released him. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Nuh, you’re just a little heavy,” he teased.
She sputtered in teary laughter. He lifted one hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “You doubted me. I never believed otherwise. The first time I saw you in Club Anarchy, I stood there like some gaping idiot, not daring to breathe in case you were a mirage. Then you smiled. Even if it wasn’t directed at me but some idiot human male at your table, I knew I’d found a home for my heart—”
