Her eyes widened. “Where did you get those?”
“Hedori.”
She frowned. “Why didn’t he come inside?”
Týr cut her a terse look as he passed her. With her wearing nothing but a towel?
Yeah, no. “He has things to do at the castle.” Týr dropped his load on the counter, snagged her bag and backpack, and stomped up to the bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, following him.
“Nothing. Your clothes.” He left her bag on the bed, and as he walked out, he heard her soft sigh.
He bit back a harsh laugh. She wanted to help him, too. As if he needed saving.
How fucking ironic when he apparently had the moral compass of a dead nail. He was a lost cause, couldn’t be saved. Didn’t she get that?
But for the first time ever, he yearned for something more than vengeance—something his empty heart desperately longed for. Her.
* * *
As Týr’s footsteps faded, Kira stared at the empty doorway, her brow creasing, not sure what to make of his mercurial mood.
With a weary sigh, she shoved her curly hair away from her face and got out clothes. As she removed Týr’s jacket, her thoughts slid back to their sizzling kiss. As if she could ever forget. God. She bit off a groan as she changed, praying her rationality would be locked in place. No matter what Týr said, giving in to this attraction was a disaster waiting to happen.
Her cell beeped. She hurried to the bathroom and got the device out of her ruined jacket. Tagg?
Sorry for being a hardhead at the club. I’ll have the beat cops keep an eye out for the boy, ‘kay?
Relieved, she texted back.Thank you. Keep me informed, please.
Will do. Hope you’re okay.
Kira read the concern there.I’m fine.She added a smiley emoji. Message sent, she glanced at the stairs, her stomach back to working itself into a lovely knot. Right. Inhaling a deep breath, she made her way down, phone clutched in her fist.
Týr looked up from where he sat on the couch in front of the fire, a Red Bull in hand. His stare went over her like a visceral touch, making it so darn difficult to pretend a calmness she didn’t feel.
“I made you hot chocolate. I wasn’t sure what you like.”
Kira stumbled to a halt in shock. She hadn’t expected that after his moodiness earlier. But meeting those cool, light-toffee eyes that watched her over the rim of his caffeine drink, her fickle body warmed. Desire trickled.
Heck, who was she kidding? It swept through her like a heatwave. Kira finally understood why she always retaliated whenever he teased her. It was because of this—thisawareness, which constantly sparked between them. It had from the moment their paths first crossed.
“Microwave,” he said when she just stood there like a stooge. Kira snapped her mouth shut and pivoted for the kitchen.
Mug in hand, and to keep her sanity, because sharing the only couch with him, no matter how long or wide it was, just wasn’t happening. Týr was too dangerous to her shaky emotions.
Besides, what could they talk about? Their convo-mode was to fight. And she really didn’t want to. She just wanted some peace from her fluctuating emotions but doubted even that was possible now.
Kira made her way to the dining table near the scenic window, acutely aware of him, and gratefully dropped onto one of the two chairs there. She glanced out into the snowy moonlit night.
Footsteps sounded. Her fingers tightened around her mug as Týr took the seat opposite her. “You should get some rest.”
“I can’t…not until I know Tomas is safe.”
“The others are looking out for him,” he said quietly. “We’ll find the boy, and I’ll deal with whoever attacked us.”
She glanced at him. “I know you will. You always take care of those around you.”
