Chapter 6
Was the man hiding?
Kira stopped at the French doors in the enormous kitchen and glowered through the window. She hadn’t seen Týr the entire day, not in the rec room or even in the gym where she’d reluctantly partnered Echo in her workout.
The slave driver had hauled her there just because she’d gotten hurt.
Her arms and thigh muscles still protested the brutality of the sword fight Echo had put them through earlier. While she appeared like a lively cricket, hopping around the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of cocoa, Kira was grateful she could still walk.
“You’re real fidgety this evening.” Echo picked up her drink.
“I’m anxious to get going. I called Liam twice today. Tomas hasn’t shown. We have to find him before anything happens.”
“He’s lived a long time on the street, Kira. He knows to avoid dangerous places, like I did when I lived there.”
God, she hoped so. “I wish I could have gone out to look for him today…” Kira sighed and leaned against the door, rubbing her the dull throb in her temple. But it had been darn hard to leave this place with Hedori and the Guardians about. “Anyway, I have to work tonight for a few hours. Jesse called me earlier and asked me to cover for her.”
“Her baby’s sick?”
Kira lowered her hand. “Yeah.” Just as well since she had to meet Riley, too. And she really didn’t want to explain to one difficult Guardian why she had to stop off at the bar first. “But when I’m done, Týr’s going to help me…” Kira narrowed her eyes. “Stop it—stop smiling.”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Echo’s grin stayed. “He licked your wound better, and now he’s helping you?”
“Why not? It’s his fault that Tomas ran off, so it’s only right he helps find him.”
As if she would tell her best friend that the big lug had threatened to lock her up if she dared to go off on her own, leaving her with little choice but to let him accompany her as her bodyguard.
Where was he?
She glanced at Echo, wanting to ask. Nuh-uh, she definitely didn’t want the teasing to start up again, not when she’d actively avoided Týr whenever she could in the past. But she needed answers. Guess she’d have to hunt the warrior down herself. “I gotta go. Brian can be a huge pain in the ass if we’re late.”
With a little wave, Kira sprinted down the corridor for the back stairwell. Her sore legs thoroughly objected the additional torture. As she ran up, Michael came down. He paused on the top step, giving her room. Breathing hard, she somehow managed a smile. “Hi, Michael…” she wheezed, like an asphyxiating toad. Uh, great.
“Kira.” The archangel inclined his head, probably too polite to show his amusement that a single flight of stairs had defeated her. Grimacing, she passed him and then pivoted. “Er, Michael, do you know where Týr is?”
He glanced back. The soft stair lights did little to tone down the silvery glow seeping from those eerie, splintered blue irises or his measured stare. “Second floor, right turn.”
“Thanks.” She hastened off.
In the hallway leading to Týr’s domain, she slowed. The place was elegant like everything else about the castle, with its marble floors and paintings that would make a museum drool. She knocked on the door, shifting on her feet as she waited.
“Go on, walk right in,” he bellowed. “Why the fuck be polite now?”
She grinned at his unexpected crankiness. Yup, he and Michael probably had words. Wiping off her smile, she entered the territory she never let her curious mind wander to and snorted at the typical male décor. A lone, daunting suit of body armor guarded the small entrance hall—the real thing, too, judging by the dents and its typically tarnished appearance. Naturally, being a guy, swords through the ages lined the wall instead of a pretty mirror and flowers.
She stepped into a massive bedroom and slowed. Sheesh! Her entire brownstone could probably fit in here.
The walls were like every other in the castle, gray stone. Opposite her, a dark wooden headboard abutted a huge bed with a thick, forest-green comforter thrown over the mattress. He didn’t have a turret sitting room like Aethan’s or Dagan’s quarters had, but an archway led into a slightly smaller room with huge windows, tobacco-colored leather couches, a flat-screen, and a music system.
The place didn’t resemble its owner at all. Týr usually gave off the impression of fun, of not being serious about anything except maybe his job, but his quarters told a whole other story. This place reeked…order. He didn’t show this side of himself to anyone, she realized.
Kira wandered over to Bob, who lay on the lounger. His amber eyes flicked to her, and his bushy, soot-gray tail twitched in greeting. Smiling, she scratched his furry head, eliciting a low purr. Her cell buzzed. She retrieved the device from her pocket. At Liam’s name on the display, she hastily opened the message.
“Stop stalking my damn space and get your ass in here!”
At Týr’s acerbic snap, Kira rolled her eyes. “It’s me,” she called out, reading the text.Still no sign of Tomas. Working at The Shelter this evening, will keep an eye out for him.
Damn.
