Screams tore through the night, startling him.
He stumbled to a halt, heart pounding, then he sprinted toward the terrible sounds and into bloody chaos. Bodies lay broken on the ground.
His own agony forgotten in an instant, sheer instinct took over. Instinct that had been drilled into him long before Tartarus had broken him.
Týr barreled into the scourges, sending them flying back. They leaped to their feet, eyes gleaming like twin blood-moons in the dark. No, not blood demons—worse.Demoniis. They stole souls and drained their victims.
Týr head-butted the one in front of him. Adrenaline spiking, he snatched a dagger off the ground and leaped up, blade flashing. He severed heads from necks. Bodies fell, turning to ash. Suddenly, everything froze, except for him and the other males there. His wariness came back tenfold. Was it time to die?
For some reason, he didn’t want these males he faintly recalled from another life witnessing his brutal death, didn’t want them remembering his dishonor. To know that he was responsible for their horrific imprisonment. He retreated to the edge of the trees.
Impossible power surrounded him and had him dropping to his knees. He sighed in resignation. The end was close. His head lowered, he stared blankly at the dagger in his hand, the demonii’s black blood having disappeared.
“You have no need to linger, archangel,” a female said from afar. Týr frowned.
“I will remain.”
“Very well. Arise, fallen warriors from the godly realm.”
The others in the front pushed to their feet. Týr remained where he was. Why bother to stand when death was his end?
“You’ve encountered evil that has taken to destroying my realm and, in your almost mortal state, you have defeated them.” Invisible fingers gently touched his whiskered jaw and lifted up his chin. Glowing green eyes embraced him, even from a distance.
A tall female unlike any he’d seen, stood in the clearing, glowing so brightly, like she had a halo—no, it was her hair, bright like the sun—and her bronze skin resembled the earth. Odd green markings coiled around her eyebrows and down her cheeks like plants in spring, reminding Týr of new life, of hope.
This had to be a dream.
His gaze dropped once more. He hated these hallucinations when his reality was sheer hell.
A slender hand appeared beneath his lowered gaze, palm faced up. As if he had no control of his limbs, he dropped the blade he held. Before he touched her fingers, the woman pointed to his severed hand. His right stump, though wrapped in filthy strips of cloth, was drenched with blood. Mouth tight, he set it in her palm, and she pulled him to his feet.
They were alone, except for the angel with the splintered eyes.
“I am Gaia. Become the realm’s Guardian, and I will give you purpose.” Her words washed over Týr, her fingers tightening over his stump that hurt so badly. “You will recover all powers and more, and never lack again. In time, you will find what you seek.”
He nodded. A tingle shot up his wrist. The cloth unraveled and fell. Before his very eyes, his stump regenerated…and a blade shimmered into his palm.
She smiled. “It seems one of my gifted weapons has chosen you. Your dagger is an embodiment of your one weakness and your ultimate strength. When it fails to return to you, you have found your salvation…”
Týr barely heard her as a turbulent power roiled through him, something he hadn’t experienced in five centuries. It shot out in huge bursts of flame, consuming everything in its path—the remaining frozen demoniis, the dead humans, and the settlement. Even the trees surrounding the place burned to ashes…
His power had left nothing in its wake but devastation.
* * *
Kira shoved her hair away from her face, her eyes fluttering open. Ah, crap! She winced at the blinding light nailing her corneas. Peering through slit eyelids, she took in the wooden walls and the snow-covered grounds visible through the scenic windows.
This isn’t home.She bolted upright, her heart careening in its cage…Seconds later, everything that had happened came crashing down on her like a ton of bricks.
Her father being alive, the attack in the thoroughfare downtown, Týr bringing her to the cabin in the Adirondacks and tending to her wounds… Then, they’d kissed and-and…
Her face scorching at what had occurred, she threw her arm over her eyes and moaned. In the coziness of night with him, everything had appeared doable, but the brightness of day spun the reality. Now what?
Groaning, she put it all aside until she had a tanker of coffee and her brain cells could compute and engage properly. She picked her cell up from the coffee table. 2:03…p.m.? With a small screech, she shot off the couch.
Darn it, how could she sleep so long? What if Týr had news of Tomas?
She hightailed it to the front door, only to come to a grinding halt. She couldn’t go out to him looking like this. Oh, God!Please don’t let me have drooled on him.She hastily scrubbed her face.
