Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

A knock on the bedroom door woke Tyr the following morning. He went to roll over but found his arm pinned beneath Celeste’s head. He gazed down at her for a moment, conflicted. He hoped Sy didn’t kill him, but he’d held out for as long as he’d been able. Celeste was… everything now. And he could no longer deny the fact any more than he could deny that he thought, in all honesty, they were meant for one another.

The knock sounded again, and Tyr slid his arm from under her and pulled on a pair of sweats as he hopped to the door and opened it a crack.

Herm stood dressed for the day. He looked Tyr up and down, tried to glance over Tyr’s shoulder, and smiled. Tyr closed the door a few inches, blocking Herm’s view of Celeste.

“What?”

“Vid and I are getting ready to head out and tail the loser suing his ex. We might be gone most of the day, so I wanted to ask if you would take this over to Frigg’s place and give it to Heimdall.” Herm held out an envelope full of cash.

“You’re the messenger god, not me. Take it when you get back.” Tyr tried to close the door, but Herm stopped him.

“Come on, bro. You know how he gets about this kind of stuff. I like Heimdall, but he’s a stick-in-the-muck when it comes to money. He already texted me about it. If he doesn’t get it today, he won’t bet on me next time.”

Tyr looked at the envelope.

“Never mind,” said Herm. “I’ll do it on my way to tail the client.”

“No,” Tyr grabbed the envelope. “Do your job. Don’t be late.”

Herm nodded. “See ya.” He stood on his tiptoes as he backed away, trying to peek over Tyr’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to kill you?” Tyr growled.

Herm chuckled. “Can you blame me? Seeing her the other day in only her underwear? Damn, man, I’m jealous.”

Tyr leaped out his door, but Herm disappeared down the hall and around the corner before Tyr reached him. Good thing for Herm, too, because just the thought that Herm and Vid had seen Celeste in practically nothing was enough to have him ripping the eyes out of both of their heads.

Tyr went back to his room and closed his door. He wasn’t an errand boy, but Herm and Vid had taken to picking up all their workload since Celeste had arrived. The least he could do was drop off Heimdall’s winnings. Though after what Herm had said, maybe he should wait until late in the day to do it.

Tyr dropped the cash on his dresser and headed over to make sure Ygrette had gotten in safely. She slept with her head tucked under her wing on a high branch in her enclosure. Tyr closed the glass door and then closed the bedroom window.

“Are we going to Frigg’s place?” Celeste asked in a sleepy voice.

Tyr turned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shrugged and sat up, pulling the covers with her and covering her perfect breasts.

“I’ll get to try that honeyed mead Phes mentioned?”

He nodded. “If you’d like.”

“I take it Frigg’s place is a bar?”

“Frigg owns a tavern and inn of sorts. Upstairs is in the Midgard realm. And downstairs is here in the Underworld. Heimdall works in the upstairs pub as security.”

She nodded. “Do a lot of you work together? The Norse gods, I mean.”

Tyr nodded and sat on the bed near her feet. He resisted the urge to kiss her.

“Herm and Vid and I work together. Fenrir used to help out, but he doesn’t anymore. Loki is a lawyer and has jobs for us quite often. Odin owns a burlesque club. We all help out from time to time if he needs it. Thor has a motorcycle shop. Frigg has her place. Both Loki and Thor’s wives work there… or used to. I’m not sure, to be honest.”

“Is that all of you?”

“No. There’s Hodr, Meili, Baldur, you met Vali, and there’s Hel, but she has her own little slice of the kingdom down here that she rules, so we don’t see her much.”

“Wow. You have a lot of family.”

Tyr snorted. “Technically, I’m not blood-related to any of them, but yes, we are all Norse gods, and we have lived, loved, and hated each other for enough time that I suppose you call us a family. A very dysfunctional family, but a family, nonetheless.”

“If you want dysfunctional, you should see my family. To be honest, though, it would be nice to have a lot of people around who support you. Whether or not they were blood-related. I’ve never had that.”

Tyr couldn’t hold back. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles and then leaned in and kissed her. Her warm, soft lips had him hard in an instant, remembering the feel of her the night before. So timid, and yet so willing. The idea of her submission had him harder still.

Tyr broke the kiss and set his forehead against hers. He wanted to say something profound. Something that would help heal her bruised and battered heart.

“You never have to be alone again, Celeste. Not unless you want to.” He swallowed hard. He’d never said something like that to a woman before, but his words were the truth. She didn’t have to be alone. He would take care of her. Be there for her. Beside her. But only if that was what she wanted. Though, even thinking about it, he knew it was a lie. He’d never let her go, now. Never. She was his. Whether she wanted to be or not.

Never, in all his long years, had anyone made him feel what she did. And not once had someone brought him peace.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and searching.

“We should get you something to eat.”

She nodded. “I wish I could argue, but I’m starving.”

Tyr nodded and stood. “Come on, get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“First, we’re gonna stop off at Frigg’s, and then, I’m going to take you to my favorite place for breakfast.”

Tyr opened the door to Frigg’s Pub, ‘The Raven Weaver,’ and kept his hand on Celeste as they walked through the already gathering throng and headed for the stairs in the corner.

Tyr nodded to Frigg before stepping up the wooden staircase and through the portal that would take them topside. His gut twisted with anxiety, and he squeezed Celeste’s hand hard as she stepped through the portal as well. Every nerve in his body told him he shouldn’t have brought her, but at the same time, he couldn’t have left her at the estate by herself. He would have stressed the entire time; who knew what trouble she’d get herself into. And his stressing was not a smart thing. He thought finding his soulmate would help his ability to control his emotions, but he wondered if it would do the complete opposite. Because one thing had been made overly apparent to him since making love to her, he would do whatever it took to protect her. Whatever. And for the God of War, that was not a good thing.

They exited the stairwell and stepped through a curtain to the Midgard side of Frigg’s pub.

He scanned the bar, and though it was early afternoon, there were still plenty of humans drinking, eating, and watching a soccer game on the television above the bar. Tyr never got into soccer. Not enough contact for him. He preferred hockey and rugby. The more blood, the better.

Tyr headed to Heimdall’s table without needing to see if he was there. He was almost always there when the doors were open.

Heimdall’s golden eyes waited for them as they slid into his booth. Tyr made Celeste get in first, and then he followed, blocking her from the rest of the bar.

Sylax had told him to keep her in the Underworld and as soon as he dropped the money off to Heim, they were going right back down. Problem was, Tyr wasn’t sure how to just hand money to Heimdall and walk away. He felt obligated to at least have a few words of small talk with him, even if he didn’t like it.

Tyr had never been afraid of anyone. Not even Odin scared him. But Heimdall… made him uncomfortable at best. He wasn’t sure why. Possibly because the god saw everything about everyone. And there were a lot of things Tyr had done in the dark that he didn’t want anyone to witness. Maybe it was because, like himself, Heimdall was the only other Norse God who wasn’t descended from or a relative of Odin and Frigg. Which meant his loyalties could lie anywhere.

He was sure it was that Heimdall knew everything about him which made him the most uncomfortable, though.

“Tyr. I can’t remember the last time you came looking for me,” said Heimdall.

“I think it was back on Asgard,” Tyr replied. “I was?—”

Heimdall cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course you remember. You remember everything.”

Heimdall chuckled.

And, of course, Heimdall knew why Tyr was there, too.

As if on cue, Heimdall held out his hand, and Tyr pulled out the envelope and placed it in his palm.

“Isn’t it cheating?” Tyr asked. “Considering you already know the outcomes of all the races.”

Heimdall shrugged again. “Are you chastising me for taking money from demons who should know by now that if they race against Herm, they are going to lose?”

He had a point.

Heimdall’s gaze turned to Celeste, and Tyr tensed. He laid his hand on Celeste’s thigh and squeezed. She slipped her fingers into his.

Heimdall stared at her for several seconds. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Celestine, daughter of Sylax.”

Daughter of only Sylax? No mention of Celeste’s mom at all. Interesting.

“So, is it true, then?” Celeste asked. “You can see everything? Everyone’s past and future?”

Heimdall nodded.

“Can you see my dad? Do you know where he is?” Celeste held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask. You probably get asked things all the time. That must be so hard.”

Heimdall’s brow crinkled, and the side of his mouth quirked upward. “Thank you. Your gift is hard, too, though.”

“Yes, but the difference is I can tune out my gift. And if I wanted to tell someone what I am hearing I can try to help. But you have to sit by without interfering, right?”

“Most of the time.” He nodded.

“How do you do it?”

Heimdall thought for a moment, his eyes darkening. He twirled his empty mug on the table. “I learned at a young age that interfering caused more problems than not.”

For a split-second, Tyr wondered what Heimdall referred to, but when Heimdall’s gaze flashed to him, he knew it would do no good to ask. The pain lingering in Heimdall’s eyes was enough for Tyr to realize for the first time how hard Heimdall’s life must be.

Celeste opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tyr squeezed her leg, and she closed it.

“Would you two like something to drink?” Heimdall asked.

“No, thank you,” said Tyr. “We are about to go grab something to eat.”

Tyr wondered how Heimdall did it. How he carried on conversations when he knew what the answers would be.

“Of course.” Heimdall nodded.

“I thought you were getting me some honeyed mead?”

“Yes. I forgot. It’s on the downstairs side. I promise we’ll get some on our way home.”

Home? Had he said home? Not estate. Not the house. Not compound. Home . Yes. Yes, he had. Because it was now home. With her, it was home. For as long as she wanted. The thought made him warm inside, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to christen every room of their home.

“We should be going,” said Tyr. “But Herm insisted I get that to you.”

Heimdall nodded. “As he should be. That is if he wants to keep getting my advice on which car he should drive for the night.”

The wicked smile that glinted on Heimdall’s lips made Tyr snort. So Heimdall wasn’t as perfect as he seemed.

Tyr stood and held his hand out for Celeste’s.

She slid out of the booth and gasped before stumbling. Tyr caught her around the waist, and a pained expression crossed her face.

“Is it your arm?”

She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly before shaking her head. “No. I… Uh, I need to use the bathroom before we go.”

“Of course. It’s right there.” Tyr pointed, and the hairs on his arms prickled as he held onto her.

He began guiding her toward the bathroom, but she let go of him.

“It’s okay. I can go on my own. I’ll be back in a minute.” Her voice remained calm, but her eyes said something wasn’t right.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just my ribs. Guess they aren’t fully healed.” She reached up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Tyr wanted to protest and go with her. He wanted to examine her ribs and make sure she healed properly. But he was being stupid. And overprotective. It was just the bathroom.

She squeezed his hand and threw him a smile as she crossed the bar.

She disappeared into the restroom, and he continued standing in the middle of the bar until several patrons eyed him.

Tyr slid back into the booth to find Heimdall watching Celeste disappear into the bathroom.

His metal hand creaked as he closed it into a fist. He needed to control his reflex to men looking at Celeste. They couldn’t help it. She was freaking stunning. Why wouldn’t men ogle her?

Heimdall turned back to Tyr. Neither said anything, and an awkward silence fell between them. In that moment, he realized he knew very little about Heimdall. Where he lived. What he did in his time off. If he took time off.

“So, you were right about Fenrir’s triplets,” Tyr blurted.

Heimdall’s eyes darkened. “Did you think I’d be wrong?”

Dammit. Apparently, mentioning the one time Heimdall had slipped up with a premonition was not the right way to foster goodwill.

Heimdall was still chafed at the mistake he’d made, blurting out the little tidbit of information at the family gathering where Fenrir and Grace had announced they were having a baby months prior.

“What about you?” asked Heimdall. “You still kicking yourself about chaining up Fenrir?”

Ah… so that’s how it was going to be. Tyr peered around the side of the booth to the bathroom door. He sure hoped Celeste hurried.

Celeste collapsed as she locked the bathroom door. Pain tore through her. She dropped her mental shield, instinctively reaching out for where it came from.

Someone was in pain. Terrible pain. Excruciating pain.

Another strange wave blasted through her, and she cried out. She pitched sideways, letting her cheek rest on the cool tile as she fought against the pain and sweat that broke out all over her body.

“Help,” someone said in a weak voice. “Please. Someone, help me.”

“Who are you?” she managed.

“Sylax.”

Her eyes flew open. She sent out a mental blast to pinpoint her father’s mental signature. “Papa?”

She couldn’t feel him anywhere.

“Celeste? Is that you?”

Tears flooded her eyes. She sent out another blast. The voice sounded like her father, but she still couldn’t locate him . “Papa. Where are you? I can’t find you. Why can’t I sense you?”

“I’m… at the house… It must be the wards your mother put on it. I was able to break a few of them, but not all.”

Her house? He was at the house? But why?

Celeste went cold. Had he gone after her mother for what she’d done, and things had gone wrong?

“Celeste?”

She pushed tears from her eyes. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No,” he said. “No, Celeste. I don’t want you to get hurt. You have to stay away.”

Not get hurt? She was the reason her father was being hurt. It was her fault. She was to blame. Guilt twisted in her gut. She never should have called to him. She should have handled things on her own. She should have been stronger.

“Can you walk?” She fought to formulate a plan.

“I…” Her father cried out. “My legs are shattered in too many places. I… can’t.”

Shattered legs would take at least five days to heal. At least a day before he might be able to bear weight on them enough to get away. Who knew what her mother would do to him before then. She had to get him.

“Papa, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It’s okay, Celeste. I’m just glad you aren’t here at home. Where are you right now? I haven’t been able to sense you at all.”

How wasn’t he able to find her in the Underworld? Did Tyr’s estate have some kind of wards on it as well?

“Why haven’t you called me? Why didn’t you call Tyr? It. It doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”

“No, Celeste. Whatever happens, don’t come here. Don’t—” Her father screamed, and the connection dropped.

“Papa? Papa? Dad!” No answer. Tears dripped from her eyes. If the connection dropped, it meant either he was unconscious or… She didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t think about that. She had to get to him.

Celeste stumbled to her feet and cracked open the door to the bathroom. She couldn’t see Tyr where he sat. She should get him. Tell him what happened.

No.

If she told him, he’d never let her go. He’d insist on leaving her at the compound while he went to find her dad.

Anger bubbled inside Celeste. Her mother. Her stupid, angel-born mother had her father captive. And she was hurting him.

Something inside Celeste opened up, and rage flooded her. Her gentle, sweet father. He’d gone there for her. To protect her. To save her. And her mother had shattered his legs. Shattered them. And who knew what else.

Enough was enough. She had to stop her mother, once and for all. And she was the only one who could. Yes, Tyr could hurt her mother, but only Celeste could end it.

Without waiting another second, Celeste darted for the exit and bolted onto the street before flagging down a taxi and diving into the backseat.

“Long Beach.”

The cabbie nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Celeste threw out her mental ability, looking for her father. Nothing.

Please, be alive. Please, let her father be alive. She would never forgive herself if he died because of her. And heavens help her mother if that happened. Tyr may be the God of War, but he would have nothing on Celeste for what she would do.

Celeste peered over her shoulder as The Raven Weaver disappeared from view. She should at least call Tyr and tell him the address.

Fudge nuggets! She didn’t have a phone. It was fine. She’d get to the house. Deal with her mom. Get her dad. And get her phone from her room. Tyr could pick her up when she’d dealt with it.

Besides, she needed Tyr, as well as her dad, to see she could handle herself. That she wasn’t helpless. It was the only way her dad would accept her and Tyr being together. As much as it would anger her dad, she needed to do it. She had to break the one rule he’d made her swear to when she was three. And, one way or another, she’d figure out how to use all the power locked inside her.

Tyr leaned out of the booth and tried to spot the restroom door. She’d been gone too long.

He stood.

“She’s not in there.”

“What?”

“She snuck out about ten minutes ago.”

“What?” Tyr’s heart hammered. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded.

Heimdall regarded him impassively.

“Where did she go?”

Heimdall continued to stare.

Fear crept up Tyr’s spine. Real and true fear. Something he had never felt before, and that terrified him further. Then, his fear morphed into anger and red stained the edges of his view.

Tyr slammed his fist on the table, making it shake. The mug tipped over. “Dammit, Heimdall, you’re not the guardian of Asgard anymore. You are no longer under oath. Tell me where she went.”

Heimdall didn’t speak.

Tyr’s heart slammed against his ribs. His vision went crimson, and his mind whirled. Where did she go? Why would she sneak out? Was she sneaking away from him? Did she not want him?

Tyr’s gut clenched. No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She felt the same as he did. He knew it.

“Please,” Tyr begged. “You know what happened to her before. I… I can’t lose her. Please, Heimdall. I’ll do anything. Give you anything. She’s my one. My Fylgja. ”

Tyr had never begged for anything in his entire life. But for Celeste, he would get down on his knees and grovel if it meant keeping her. Whatever it took. He’d thought it earlier, and he’d meant it.

“Long Beach.”

“Why?”

“Her father.”

A million questions bombarded Tyr, and he tried to push them away and think straight. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never once lost it in battle or in life, so why now, when things were at their worst, couldn’t he think straight?

“Address. I need the address.”

Heimdall blinked and stood. “She won’t be there by the time you arrive. She’ll be somewhere else.”

“Where, Heimdall? Tell me.” Tyr couldn’t control the commanding timber of his voice any more than he could control the anger that boiled through him—or the way every person in the bar had stopped moving and now stared at them.

Heimdall grabbed his coat. “I’ll do one better. I’ll go with you.”