He pressed his lips to her neck. “You didn’t have to get up.”
“I wanted to see this place during daylight.” She eased back and took his mug from the counter and sipped. “Ugh.” She scrunched her nose, setting it down again. “This thing tastes worse than the potion you gave me.”
At her grumble, he shook his head. “I’ll get sometamecoffee going for you.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Nah, water will do for now.”
Frowning, Nik crossed to the fridge near the door. With the kind of life she lived, he knew she put eating last on her list. Yeah, that would change. He got out the orange juice and poured some into a glass, then handed her the tumbler. “We have food, and there’s cake, too—so eat. Here.” He opened the container.
She peeked at the cupcakes and muffins, then selected the latter. As she bit into the crumbly blueberry cake, he drawled, “You’ll need your strength.”
Color suffused her face as his meaning sank in. She scrunched her nose and drank some juice. Smiling, he leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee.
Muffin finished, she drank more of her juice and set the glass down. She stepped to him and placed one palm on his chest. He could sense the gentle pull of her symbionts now that he was aware of them, and he covered her hand with his.
“You’re okay now.” She cast him a soft smile. “I don’t sense any darkness in you. If you need me, let me know.”
His entire being tensed, and he had to force out the words. “I won’t. Not anymore. Those souls in me were from my time in Tartarus. It seems they attracted the souls of the scourges I killed in this world…” He exhaled roughly, then added, “You’ve stopped the cycle completely by removing the malignant ones.”
* * *
Shadow’s heart sank, the hope she harbored dying. Despite everything, she’d prayed he’d be all she needed, and she wouldn’t have to stalk clubs again.
God. She wanted to shut her eyes in despair when what he said had her frowning. “Tartarus?” she repeated, remembering something Aba had mentioned long ago. “Is that the place where immortals are imprisoned?”
His mouth tightened, his expression morphing to stone as if isolating himself from whatever it was.
A chill stole over her. “Nik, how did you end up having those souls trapped inside you?” she asked him again.
He leaned against the counter, clenching the granite edge with fingers gone bone-white. “Tartarus is where I, along with the other Guardians, except for Aethan, were incarcerated for five centuries.”
“Why?” The word burst free, her brain whooshing inside her skull as if all the blood had drained free.
“It was our punishment for failing in our duties,” he said, tone flat. “We didn’t protect the Goddess of Life as we were charged to. Inara was young and powerful, and she had to be shielded at all costs. We messed up. The bastard, Lucifer, and his horde abducted her, leaving behind a bloody massacre.”
Shadow stared wide-eyed at him. “Lucifer, the fallen angel?”
“Yeah.” His lips thinned. “After judgment was given at the Gates of the Gods, we were found guilty of negligence and stripped of our powers, our godhood, and we fell through a portal…”
As if unable to remain still, he grabbed his mug from the table, crossed to the espresso machine, and poured more coffee. “When I came to in that subterranean hellhole, I found myself alone in a place of eternal darkness, mist, and unrelenting cold,” he said so softly Shadow was grateful for her heightened hearing. Still, she took a step closer as he continued.
“Unseen entities flung me into raids for souls to feed their endless appetite. Whatever those things had done to me, the dark souls slammed into me the moment I appeared amidst them—there was no escaping that shit.”
Shadow frowned and knew it wasn’t as straightforward as he made it sound. She’d seen images of it down in that monk’s cell. “So you released them after?”
Hollow laughter. “You don’t release them. Those entities are always after the gore, the brutality, and the pain they could get before consuming the souls. I was nothing but a vessel…” His gaze lowered to his mug. “Weak and powerless. They could do whatever the hell they wanted. It was all about the torment.”
“But why?” she breathed. “You did what they demanded.”
“That’s not how it works in Tartarus. Only with suffering is the end more satisfying.” A nerve pulsed furiously on his jaw. “Those entities either sucked them out from my mouth—and it felt as if my entire insides were being yanked from my gullet—or, they simply tore me open and fed. Death was a short-lived respite.”
Death?Oh, dear God. “I saw,” she whispered, feeling as if her own sternum had been split open. “Last night. I saw them leave you. Your chest ripped open. Blood everywhere.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t real.”
“Don’t brush it off, Nik. I saw those ghostly images, and I felt your agony.”
When he remained silent, she asked softly, “How did you escape?”
