“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?”
Withhimthere? 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,reallygood 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 good. 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 athingnow?
