Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Tyr stood inside the DeLux Café watching the patrons file in like moths to a security light. Some looked confident, like Herm and Vid. Others appeared terrified. And still, others seemed like they had no clue how they’d ended up there.

He sipped his scotch. Some of the women were quite beautiful, though not one stirred a single muscle in his body. It had always been that way. Like he waited for something. Someone. After his first several centuries of loneliness, his hope turned to despair. That’s where the Crusades and Dark Ages had come from. But after despair, it morphed into something else. Apathy. He’d given up all hope of finding her. Until he now viewed every woman out of mere casual curiosity but no longer believing he would find the one he’d been promised. The one meant to be his. His fated mate.

He took another sip of his scotch when Eve spotted him, and before he could turn away, she smiled and headed his way.

Shit.

“Lord Tyr, you’re here tonight. Are you going to get a number? We will be starting soon.”

Tyr shook his head. “I’m only here to meet someone.”

She chuckled. “So is everyone.”

“No. I mean an old friend. It’s a work thing, not a pleasure thing.”

Eve stared at him for a moment. “What a pity. Pleasure is always more fun than work. And you definitely look like you need a bit of fun.”

Tyr nodded and pointed to Herm and Vid, who flirted with a pair of succubae. “Trust me, those two have enough fun for everyone in the underworld.”

Eve smiled. “Yes. Those two will give some woman a run for her money.”

A bell rang, and Eve turned. She traced a finger down his arm and her eyes widened and then relaxed again. “I wish you the best of luck in your… work endeavors, Tyr.”

Tyr inclined his head. “And you, Lady Eve.”

Wait… had she said, woman? He glanced at Vid and Herm. They’d both gone for the same woman once before… it hadn’t turned out well for either of them. Tyr hoped Eve’s words had been a slip of the tongue, though Eve wasn’t the kind of woman to do that. He made a mental note to talk to Vid and Herm at some point.

Most of the patrons made their way to tables on the other side of the café. Vid and Herm included. He glanced at his watch. Sylax should have been there thirty minutes prior. He pulled out his phone. There were no new calls or messages.

He was about to call Sylax when the café door opened. A tall, thin man walked in, arm around the shorter figure, who wore a long black cloak covering him from head to toe.

Sylax scanned the bar, anxiety planted on his face. A shockwave shot through Tyr, making him pause. What was that?

Tyr gulped the rest of his drink and headed toward them. The moment Sylax spotted him, his shoulders relaxed a fraction. He whispered something to the smaller figure, and together, they took a few steps into the café. The smaller figure limped, but from the way they held their body, Tyr knew instinctively they were in pain—a lot of pain.

“Sy.” Tyr extended his hand, which Sylax shook.

“Lord Tyr. Thank you so much for agreeing to help me. I cannot tell you what a relief it is.” His words broke off as he peered down at the smaller figure.

“Any time. Whatever you need.”

Sylax nodded to the smaller figure. “I need to hire you to protect my daughter.”

Sy had a daughter? Explained why Tyr hadn’t seen him in so long if he’d started a family.

Wait. She was his daughter—and someone had hurt her.

A flash of anger threaded through Tyr, and someone at the bar slammed down his drink and yelled at the bartender.

Tyr caught Eve’s eye, and she glared at him. He inclined his head as an apology and swallowed hard.

Keep it together.

His gaze moved back to Sylax.

“Tell me what you need, and it’s done. We have safe houses all over California as well as the US. I can set her up?—”

“No,” Sylax said forcefully. He cleared his throat. “I apologize. What I mean is, I want to hire you until I can come back for her. Please. You are the only person I trust.”

Tyr looked at the hooded figure and just distinguished between the long, black hair and the silky fabric of her cloak. He wasn’t used to taking care of someone personally. He was used to taking care of problems. Helping get rid of people that no longer deserved to live. Setting up clients in new places with new identities. Blackmail. Roughing people up. Everything others needed to have done but weren’t willing or capable of doing for themselves. But babysitting someone’s daughter was a new one.

Sy wasn’t just someone, though. He’d helped Tyr on more than one occasion, and outside of Vid, Herm, and one other, Sy was the only real friend Tyr had.

From somewhere deep within the dark hood, a bright blue eye lifted and met his gaze. Red tinged the edge of her eye where a blood vessel had been broken.

A feeling raced through him that he couldn’t place. Familiarity maybe? But he’d never met Sy’s daughter before.

Puzzled, he stared at her, trying to figure out why he couldn’t see both of her eyes.

As if reading his thoughts, she removed her hood.

His fists clenched, and his gut cramped so tight he fought for breath. One side of her face had swollen beyond recognition. Her cheek had been split open, as had her lip. Her second eye swelled shut, and a jagged gash split through her eyebrow. Her other side was a little better, with a black eye and bruised cheek.

Tyr wanted nothing more than to cut apart the man who’d done that to her. A heated wave of emotion blasted away from him, and two men across the room began to argue.

Tyr unclenched his fists and glanced over his shoulder. Vid spotted the two men and then glanced over at Tyr. He half stood from his chair, but Tyr gestured with his hand, and Vid sat back down. Herm whispered something, and Vid shook his head.

Eve glared at him. Tyr bowed to her, and she cocked an eyebrow.

He needed to control himself. She wouldn’t stand for a third flare-up. Damn. He hadn’t had two anger flares in a row in decades.

Sy’s daughter studied him and then looked up at her father and winced, raising her fingers to her jaw.

Was she mute, or did she have more extensive injuries to her face he couldn’t discern?

Sylax nodded. “Please, Lord Tyr. I?—”

“Are you sure you want me? You see how my emotions?—”

Sy grabbed Tyr’s hand.

“I trust only you.” Sy’s thoughts flowed into Tyr, and he experienced the depth of Sylax’s fear and need. The emotions permeated Tyr as if Sylax’s feelings were his own. It both intrigued Tyr as well as made him uneasy, knowing Sylax could penetrate his mind at any moment if he didn’t lock it down.

Tyr nodded. “Okay. But are you sure you only want me to keep her safe? I would happily take care of the person or persons who harmed her as well.”

Sylax let go of Tyr’s hand. “I appreciate that more than words can say, but they are something I need to deal with in my own way.”

“I understand.” He did. Tyr understood more than anyone the need to enact vengeance with one’s own hands. “It would be my honor to ensure her safety until you return.”

Sy bowed. “I can’t pay you all the money upfront, but?—”

Tyr waved his hand. “This is beyond money. Pay me when you can pay me. And if it so be that you never pay me, I am fine with that as well. You just take care of the bastards who did this.” Tyr said to Sy. “And if you need anything, anything at all, I will be there. As you were for me many years ago.”

Sy nodded and hugged his daughter. She sucked in a sharp breath, making Tyr’s anger burn hotter.

Chill, man, or Eve and Aphrodite will have your balls to decorate the café.

Tyr swallowed hard, trying to not cause another incident.

How could someone do that to a woman? Whoever it was, they were damn lucky Sy was taking care of them and not him. Because if Tyr got his hands on them, when he finished, there would be nothing left but a pile of tissue and pulverized bones.

A tingle skittered up his spine to his mind, and his gaze locked straight on Sy’s daughter. Her eyes widened and then lit from within. She had Sy’s gift. And at that moment, he got the distinct impression she approved of what he’d wanted to do.

Celeste peered up and up and up to the largest man she’d ever seen. Tight black t-shirt so crisp it looked freshly ironed. The cotton stretched over muscles so massive she had no idea how his skin didn’t burst. His body tapered down to a trim waistband, where the t-shirt tucked into a thick belt and a pair of dark gray combat pants disappeared into black leather boots. Strangely, he wore a single black leather glove that reached up past his left wrist but no right glove.

Her father had told her about his friend Tyr, the Norse God of War, and she hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t the man standing in front of her. Dark hair, tan skin, high cheekbones, and a heavy chiseled jaw. Every inch of him screamed power. Power and danger. Celeste swallowed hard and fought to keep herself from shaking again. She’d shaken so much in the last two weeks that every muscle felt as if she’d run a marathon every day for a month. As she sized Tyr up. Was she going from one monster to another?

No. Her father would never do anything to hurt her. He was nothing like her mother. Ironic since her mother was an angel and her father a demon.

As her father and Tyr talked, Celeste lowered her defenses a fraction to reach into Tyr’s mind. Her father had told her not to use her powers unless absolutely necessary, especially in the underworld, but in light of what she had been through, she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know if he had any intentions other than helping her.

Like rolling down the window of a car, she peeled her shield back a fraction. Immediately, every mind in the café bombarded her. She sucked in a shallow breath and fought to push them away. But in order to do that, she had to catalog them all.

She’d taken her shield down in the closet the day before and had explored the mental world. In doing so, she’d realized every brain had a specific wave attached to it. Each one as unique as a set of fingerprints. All she had to do was touch each wave with her mind, and she could immediately tell the difference between them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… she lost count of how many there were.

“Damn, she is so fine.”

“Ugh, when will this be over?”

“I wonder how much he is worth. I guess I could agree to a real date and find out.”

“Oh my gosh, if I can’t convince her to be with me, I’m going to die.”

“Man, the crop is getting lean. I think I might have to give up finding a mate.”

“I bet she’s amazing in bed, but is she wife material? I don’t think she is.”

Celeste blushed at all the carnal thoughts.

What the hell? Where had her father brought her? A brothel?

After several seconds, she pushed the other thoughts from her mind and focused on the man in front of her.

“How could someone do that to a woman? Whoever it was, they were damn lucky Sy is taking care of them and not me. Because if I get my hands on them, when I finished, there would be nothing left but a pile of tissue and pulverized bones.”

Tyr’s gaze turned on her cold and unreadable. He knew. Somehow, he knew she’d been reading his thoughts. Embarrassed, Celeste pushed her shields back up. She’d heard enough. Tyr was a threat, but not to her. The rage in his thoughts at what had been done to her gave her a strange sense of comfort.

His dark, piercing eyes seemed to look right through her, as if they’d seen too many years of pain and horror. If it hadn’t been for the rage she’d seen in him, she’d have thought them blank, soulless almost. But somehow that drew her to him. Drew her to him because she wanted to do the same thing to Anton.

Her father gave her a side hug, making her broken ribs jolt her. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”

“How long?”

Her father shook his head. “I don’t know, dearest. But I promise you, I will deal with this. I will make it safe for you to go home again.”

“I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go with her. I want to be with you. Why can’t you teach me what you do? I can stay with you. Help you.”

Her father shook his head again. “I’ve told you before the men I work for are as bad as Anton. I don’t want to risk you with them.”

“And yet, I ended up in the same position, staying with my mother.”

Her father blew out a breath. They’d had the same conversation half a dozen times in the last twenty-four hours. Her father worked for a higher class of demons as well as other supernaturals as an independent contractor. Surely those beings weren’t worse than the human monsters her mother had sold her to. She’d never once seen her father come back to her with bruises or broken bones.

A moment of silence passed between them as Tyr watched their psychic interaction with interest.

Her father scanned the room and then lifted Celeste’s hood and covered her face. “I’ll be back soon. Stay with Tyr. Do not leave his side. Promise me.”

She looked from Tyr to her father.

“Promise.”

She sucked in a painful breath. “I promise.”

“You know how to get a hold of me if you need me. And both you and Tyr have my phone number in case I am not in the Underworld.”

She recently learned something else. The times she’d not been able to reach her father through their connection had been because he hadn’t been on Earth; he’d been in the Underworld. She’d never known he lived and worked down here most of the time.

Her father kissed her head. “I love you, Celeste. You are everything to me.”

“I know, Papa.”

He stuck out his hand and shook with Tyr. “I cannot ever repay you, my friend. For this, I can never repay you.”

“Take care and be safe.”

Her father nodded and headed for the door. She turned to watch him go.

“Papa.”

He stopped and glanced back at her.

“I love you.”

Her father smiled. “ And I you, my Little Angel.”

And then he was gone. Out the door. To where she didn’t know. She knew he planned on dealing with Anton, but other than that, she had no idea. He’d refused to tell her his plan in case she tried to follow him. He was smart and knew her too well.

She’d healed superficially over the past twenty-four hours, but a lot of her wounds would take at least several days if not more, to heal. She couldn’t be sure since she’d never been hurt so extensively before.

Celeste stared at the door like a puppy awaiting their owner’s return and when her dad didn’t come back in, she turned back to Tyr.

He continued to watch her until she grew so uncomfortable she pulled her hood lower. As she went to drop her hand, Tyr grabbed her fingers with a thick, gloved hand and stopped her. He inspected her broken and bruised fingers as well as the round cigar burn on her wrist. She jerked away and hid her arm under her cloak, once again using it to cradle her other broken arm.

Tyr took a step back. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how extensive your injuries to your arms were.”

She stared up at him. Her injuries were none of his business. It didn’t matter anyway. The bruises were halfway faded, and the cigar burns were blistered over and drying.

“Let me tell Herm and Vid I’m leaving.” He pointed toward the tables. “They’re my brothers. They’ll get weird if I leave without saying something.”

Weird? She looked over to the group of people sitting at tables. A bell sounded, and the men stood and started to switch places. Was it some sort of networking thing?

“I’ll be right back.”

Instinctively, she followed him. He stopped and looked back at her and then scanned the dozens of people watching them.

Without pretense, Tyr placed his hand on the small of her back, sending a jolt through her. His rough palm pressed into her cloak and she swore the heat of his hand burned through her layers of clothing. A jolt shot through her, and her cheeks heated for some reason.

Tyr didn’t move for a second. She squeezed in closer to his side, his body comforting. Instead of continuing toward the tables of people, Tyr whistled, and a bulky man covered in tattoos looked up from a far table. Tyr made some sort of hand signal to the man, who spotted Celeste and broke into a smile before giving a thumbs-up.

Tyr growled and looked like he might say something, but he just shook his head and turned her toward the exit.