Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Tyr came home, and the first thing he did was shower with Celeste. She pulled the bullets from his wounds, and he cleaned the blood from her body. Nothing sexual, simply two people helping each other wash off the worst day of their lives.

Then, they crawled into bed naked, and he held Celeste as she cried. He wanted more than anything to make it better. To fix it. To stop her hurt. But he had no idea how. His way was to injure people. Kill people. But there was no one to kill. She’d said to leave the human, Anton. And her mother was gone. So, the only thing left for him to do was be there for her.

As the light crept into the sky, she fell asleep in his arms. Only then did he slip out of the bed, pull on pants, and leave their room. He walked the distance down the hallway to the landing and from the landing to the stairs, his heart aching with every step.

He descended to the dining room to the thick glass table where Heimdall had laid out Sylax’s body. He stood for several minutes, staring at the navy blue blankets, before opening them. The pain of seeing Sylax had Tyr’s knees buckling and him dropping into a chair. If he hadn’t known it was Sylax, he never would have guessed. He’d been burnt beyond recognition.

“I’m sorry, Sy. Sorry I couldn’t save you. That you wouldn’t let me help. But I promise I did what you asked. I kept her safe. She’s my Fylgja , Sy. I love her. And I promise I will never, ever let anyone hurt her again. For as long as I live. I swear it.”

“That’s Sy?”

Tyr looked over at Herm. “Yeah.”

Herm joined him at the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Is Celeste okay?”

Tyr shook his head. “No.”

Silence fell between them.

“Why did you ask me to take the money to Heimdall?”

Herm shrugged. “He asked me to.”

Interesting. Heimdall would have seen the future; he wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t gone to deliver the money. If he hadn’t taken Celeste with him. What had Heimdall seen?

“So, you and Celeste?”

Tyr whipped toward him, and Herm held up his hands.

“I’m happy for you. Sad for me. I like her.”

Tyr growled, and Herm took a step back.

“I’m happy for you. You heard that, right?”

Tyr let the anger inside wane.

“Is there anything I can do to help either of you?”

Tyr shook his head, and Herm headed toward the stairs.

“Wait,” said Tyr.

Herm stopped.

“Can you find a spot on the estate for us to bury Sy?”

“Of course.”

“And dig the hole?”

Herm chuckled. “I’ll have Vid do that.”

Tyr was in no mood to argue.

He turned back to Sy and rewrapped him in the blankets. He set his hand on his friend. After all his years alive, burying friends never got easier.

Tyr watched over Celeste as she sat with her hand on the mound of dirt in the early evening light. She’d woken up about four in the afternoon, and he’d told her they’d prepared a spot for Sy. Tyr had carried his body out to where Vid had dug the hole, under an ancient, beautiful tree, and where Hephaestus had created a pristine white marble headstone with the words “Beloved Father. Beloved Friend” . He laid the body in the grave with Vid, Herm, Hephaestus, and Heimdall looking on.

Celeste told story after story of Sy, and as she did, all five gods remained by her side. Eventually, she’d sunk to her knees and sat with her hand on the dirt. Tyr told the others to go, but he had stayed, eventually joined by Yegret, who sat in the tree watching both of them without moving.

An hour passed, and then Celeste let out a deep sigh. “Where do you think he is?”

“If I had it my way, he would be in Valhalla. Being tended to by virgins and Valkyrie alike. Drinking his fill and never having to worry about anything ever again.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I’d like that for him.”

She ran her fingers through the freshly churned dirt.

“It’s so weird to think he was a demon. Born a demon. Died a demon. And yet… he isn’t in the Underworld. But I’m alive, and I am here.”

Tyr had no answers for her. He himself didn’t fully understand why things were the way they were.

She dug her fingers deep into the soil and crumpled it in her hand before throwing it down again.

“I hope they hurt her. I hope they torture her. I hope they burn her the way she burned my dad. I hope she suffers until she can’t take anymore, and then she suffers again for the rest of her existence. I wish I could see it. To help. To make her pay for everything she put him through. Put us both through.”

Tyr took her hand. “You don’t.”

She pulled away. “Yes. I do.”

He touched her cheek. “You aren’t that person, Celeste.”

“How do you know? I am my mother’s daughter, after all.”

“Because you are your father’s daughter, too. And he wouldn’t want that.”

She shook her head. “I’m so angry, Tyr. The anger inside me, it’s just…”

“Believe me, of anyone in all the realms, I understand.”

She stared at him, eyes blazing. Her anger ignited him, heating his blood.

“Let me show you something,” said Tyr.

“What?”

“Trust me. I think it can help.” Tyr held out his hand to her, and she took it. He lifted her to her feet, and together, they walked back into the house.

Tyr opened the door behind the entertainment room. Celeste hadn’t noticed the room before, but then, she’d never been in the entertainment room. She’d only seen it a couple of times on her way to and from the garage.

Tyr flipped on the light and walked inside. Celeste followed. It was an apartment of sorts. Several televisions scattered the room. A wooden table and chair sat in a corner. Several windows adorned every wall, but from where they stood in the house, no door or window could lead outside. Other items scattered various surfaces. A blender, toaster, microwave, lamps, a glass coffee table, several vases…

“What is this place?”

“A rage room.”

“What’s a rage room?”

Tyr leaned against the dresser. “It’s what it sounds like. Whenever one of us needs to blow off steam, and we don’t want to go to Odin’s to do it, we come in here.”

“What’s at Odin’s?”

Tyr held up his hand. He walked to a wardrobe in the corner and opened it. Inside, hung over a dozen different instruments, from bats to crowbars to golf clubs.

Tyr stepped to the side. “Pick your poison.”

She scanned the room again. “I can break anything I want?”

“Yes.”

“Anything?”

Tyr pulled out a metal bat and held it out to her. “Anything.”

Celeste slid it from his grip.

“Why did you pick this one?”

“So, you can take back control. That’s one of the things that… human hurt you with. Use it to hurt back.”

She hefted the weight of the bat in her hands. Anything. She could break anything. Everything.

Her anger raged as she chose her first victim. A lamp on the table caught her eye. It reminded her of the one in her mother’s bedroom she was never allowed to touch.

She walked to it and sized it up.

“Hold on.” Tyr held out a helmet with a plexiglass shield on the front. “Don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Tyr, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I took a dozen bullets yesterday. A few shards of glass won’t faze me. But if you’d like me to leave…”

“No. I… At least step back, please. I don’t want to hit you.”

Tyr nodded and backed up by the door.

Celeste put on the helmet and walked to the lamp. She was about to swing but paused. “Who’s gonna clean this up when I’m done?”

Tyr’s muscles flexed beneath his t-shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t worry about it. Just let go.”

Celeste pictured her mother’s face until she couldn’t hold back.

For more than thirty minutes, Celeste let every single item in the room suffer her wrath. Every hit from Anton. Every annoyed word from her mother. The burned body of her father. The room she’d been locked in. The blame. The fear. The guilt. All of it.

When she finished, she dropped the bat and sucked in several deep breaths. Every muscle in her body ached. But if anything in the room hadn’t been smashed, she would have kept going.

A warm hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned and grabbed onto Tyr. He pulled her close.

After a minute, she undid her helmet and dropped it to the ground. A piece of glass stuck out of Tyr’s cheek.

“Oh my gosh, Tyr.” She reached up to the fragment, but he stopped her.

“I told you a little glass wouldn’t hurt me.”

The red flecks danced in his eyes. Something about them made her body heat with desire.

She tugged the glass from his cheek and dropped it to the floor. “Why did you get excited when we were at Anton’s, and you hurt him?”

He didn’t speak for a long time, and he searched her face as if trying to decide something. “I’m the God of War. Anger and pain… do that to me.”

She pressed her thumb into the gash on his cheek. The red flecks flared brighter.

“Is that why you also had thoughts about… other women?”

“No. Yes. I mean… It wasn’t other women specifically. It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t help that fighting makes me hot. It’s how I was made. When you do what I’ve done for thousands of years, you can’t help but get some wires crossed.”

She pressed her thumb deeper into the cut on his face. “So, me doing this?—”

She didn’t need to finish the question. The way his erection pressed into her stomach answered it for her.

Celeste pressed Tyr back until he hit the wall. “Lower your mental barrier.”

His eyes brightened further. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see what’s in there.”

“I already saw enough at Anton’s. The women. The sex. The pain mixed with pleasure.”

“You shouldn’t have to see those things. See that side of me.”

“You call me Fylgja . Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

“And you told Anton I was yours. I was made for you. Your soulmate. Your fated mate.”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Then, if you believe that, how can you believe I won’t be able to handle what I see in you? How can I ever be what you need if you shut part of yourself away from me?”

“But you… You’re different. You make me want to do better. Be better.”

“But I like you the way you are. What you are. Who you are. All of you. How can I be what you need if I do not know you? And how can you give me what I need if you don’t trust me?”

Celeste lowered her shield and waited.

A moment passed, and she squeezed him again. “Lower your barrier, Tyr. Let me understand.”

His eyes flickered with conflict. She licked his bottom lip and then bit it, teasing.

He groaned and kissed her hard before letting down his barrier. She sent out a small mental shove, and Tyr hissed.

The pain, though small, made him grab her rear and squeeze. Images flashed through his mind. Not of other women. Not of things from the past—but of her. Things he wanted to do with her, to her.

She blasted him again, harder, and he growled and pulled her hips into his.

“If you do that again?—”

She did it again. His red eyes flared, and he slammed his lips down on hers. Flipping her against the wall, he lifted her off the floor and smashed his chest into hers.

A thrill raced through her and landed in her core. She kissed him harder and delved back into his mind, seeing everything he wanted. What he needed.

She broke the kiss and slid her tongue down his throat. “Tyr. I want you.”

His vibrant red gaze landed on her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She bit his shoulder. “I don’t want it soft. I can’t. Not now. I want… I need what you need. Not always, but this time. I don’t want slow. I don’t want tenderness. I want you to screw me, Tyr. Show me what the God of War is made of.”

His eyes remained conflicted, and then she reached between them and squeezed him hard enough to cause pain.

The flash of emotion and desire that surged through her at his thoughts made her smile and tingle.

“Tyr. Do you love me?”

His eyebrows drew together.

She squeezed him again, and his jaw clenched.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” His voice came out strangled.

“Then give me what I want. Show me why you are the God of War.”

It took them less than a minute before their clothes were on the floor, and he carried her into the other room and set her on the kitchen counter.

He growled as he entered her hard and fast.

A wave of pleasure rocked through her, and she hit him again with a blast. Tyr groaned and pulled out before slamming into her again. Her head bounced against the wall, and she smiled. The pain traveled down her spine and settled in her core.

More. She wanted more.

Tyr’s mouth claimed hers, and he thrust into her again. She looked deep into his eyes, and their minds connected.

He saw what she wanted, and he was going to give it to her. Minutes passed between them, with her blasting him and him responding. His response to the pain heightened her experience.

“Tyr.” Pleasure and pain collided inside her as he took her hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her and pinned her to the wall.

Over and over, he thrust into her, and she lost herself until she couldn’t tell which thoughts were his and which were her own. All she knew was that everything she’d been through, everything she’d experienced in her life, had prepared her, trained her, for that moment. For him.

Tyr roared as he came, and Celeste’s own orgasm crashed into her a second later. Even as her climax tapered off, Tyr didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. She saw in his mind what he wanted and was willing to oblige him.

“Tyr.” She called his name, but he didn’t stop. “ Fylgja .” She lifted his face. “Let’s go upstairs and continue this. There are things I want to do to you, but not if it’s going to cause me to get glass in my knees.”

Tyr withdrew from her and swooped her into his arms.

He strode naked from the room, jumped to the second floor, and then to the balcony before continuing to his room.

They’d barely shut the door before he bent her over the edge of the bed and entered her again.

Celeste smiled. Being Tyr’s mate was going to take her places she’d never dreamed of.