Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Tyr checked on Celeste throughout the night, but she didn’t move. By two a.m. she’d become cocooned in some kind of light he assumed had to do with her angel healing. So, he shut down the security shutters and covered Yegret’s enclosure. In the dim glow surrounding Celeste the bruising on her face had started to heal, and the swelling in her eye lessened by about half what it had been. Whatever she did, it worked.

He watched her for several minutes, allowing the strange emotions to overtake him again, trying to pinpoint it, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something… foreign. He gave up and left the room, confused and strangely dissatisfied.

Celeste awoke to the pitch-black room, and for a moment, panic seized her. Her heartbeat thundered, thinking she was back in Anton’s closet. Her lips parted to scream when she touched the soft bed underneath her and realized she wasn’t there. Tyr. She was at Tyr’s. A soft cry escaped her as she caught her breath. She was fine. She was safe.

She tried to sit up, but her body grew stiff and sore. Not as sore as it had been, but not healed, either.

She tried to open her mouth, but that was an instant no-go. She touched her face, and her swollen eye had caked with sleepy dirt, making her lashes cling together, but the swelling was considerably less. Little by little, she took stock of her body in the dark. Her ribs ached, but didn’t scream. Her arm was still not healed. The burns on her other arm had become no more than faded circles. Thankfully, her lips healed as if nothing had happened.

Celeste nodded, satisfied with the progress. She let down her barrier and reached out for Tyr. She found him outside her door. She located Vid and Herm as well, but they were further away. Downstairs in the basement room? From their happy natures, she assumed they had to be playing a game or watching a movie or something else fun.

She waited for Tyr to enter, but he didn’t. Weird. He wasn’t far away. Confused, she walked to the door, and it slid open. In the dim light that shone down the hallway, she made out his muscular form propped up against the wall inches from the door. Head back, arms and legs crossed, eyes closed. Agun lay in his lap, and next to him sat a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Had he been like that the whole time she’d been asleep? She frowned. She didn’t like the idea of him sleeping against a wall. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable, so she could be comfortable.

Now that she saw better and not everything was blurry and hazy, her first assessment of him had been correct, yet fatally inadequate. He was unbelievably handsome. Massive. Strong. With a jawline that could cut rubies. He sat unmoving in a tight, white tank top and dark pants. His feet were bare, and she had the urge to run a finger up the sole of his foot to find out if he was ticklish.

“I can turn a light on if you’d like a better view.”

Celeste’s cheeks flamed. He wasn’t asleep. Damn. How had she missed his brain activity?

“I… I can’t figure out how to turn on the lights in the room.”

He opened his eyes and raked her over from head to toe. She still wore no shirt. Only her arm sling covered her sports bra.

Tyr shoved the gun into the back of his waistband as he hopped to his feet. She backed into the room, and he reached out and placed his palm on a plate on the wall. The lights illuminated the longer he held it there. Then he removed his hand and placed it there a second time. The lights dimmed.

Was everything in his place so fancy?

She stepped up and placed her hand on the plate, again, the room illuminated. A small squawking sound came from the side of the room.

Tyr walked to the windows and opened the shutters, revealing the late afternoon sky. He unlatched the windows, and a rush of fresh air caressed Celeste, making her bare skin pebble.

He strode to the enclosure and pulled open a set of blackout curtains. Inside, Yegret hopped from foot to foot and chirped at him.

Tyr crossed his arms over his chest. “I understand why you did what you did, and I thank you for protecting our space, but you should have stopped when I called your name.”

The bird squawked.

“No excuses. You know your commands. You ruined my shirt, by the way. And you are lucky you didn’t hurt Celeste, or I’d let her eat you.”

Tyr pointed to Celeste, and the bird cocked its head.

“Celeste is going to be here for a few days at least. This is her room until she goes. You are to protect her the way you would me. Got it?”

The bird shifted from foot to foot again.

“I won’t let you out unless you agree. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to worry about being attacked by you again.”

Yegret looked at Celeste and then Tyr. A pang of sympathy raced through Celeste for the bird. She only did what she’d been taught. It wasn’t her fault.

Tyr turned to Celeste. “Actually, it is her fault. She knows when I say to back off, she backs off. And the fact that I had to physically protect you, and she still didn’t stop, is a problem.”

Son of a breadbasket! Celeste rolled her barrier back up. She hadn’t realized she’d still had it down the entire time. What else had he accidentally heard from her?

Oh, gadzooks! Had he heard her thoughts when she’d been ogling him in the hallway? Mortification rooted inside her. How could she be so stupid?

Tyr and Yegret stared at each other for a minute before the bird hung its head and chirped at him.

Tyr nodded and then opened the enclosure. Yegret jumped onto his shoulder. Though twice the size of a normal falcon, she appeared small against his bulky frame. She began preening him. Tyr paid her no attention as he walked to the window, but she was more interested in Tyr’s hair than going outside. After a minute, Tyr reached up and scratched under her chin.

“Okay. Okay. I’m not mad anymore. You can go.”

She preened him for a moment and then flapped her wings and dove outside. Tyr stared after her and then turned to Celeste.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He walked to the bathroom and touched another pad on the wall. It lit up a sparkling white marble bathroom with a deep clawfoot sunken tub, a shower big enough for ten people, and a stone three-faucet vanity.

Celeste wondered if, at some point, he planned on hosting a couple of women in his room the way she was sure Herm did. But then she remembered him saying he’d never had anyone in his room before.

He turned on one of the faucets, went to a closet, and pulled out a white towel. White. Everything was so white. What was with that?

He motioned for her to join him. He set the towel down and lifted her onto the vanity. His hands spanned her entire waist, and the warmth of his skin on hers made her cheeks heat. Man, she hated that.

He ran the water over the towel and then wrung it out a bit.

“It will be easier on your eye if you hold this to it for a minute or so before trying to wipe.”

She raised the towel to her eye.

He turned her head and checked her cheek and then her lips. Finally, he lifted her arm and inspected the burns.

He nodded, satisfied. “That cocoon thing you did seems to have worked quite well. Your smallest wounds healed in less than thirty-six hours.”

“Thirty-six?”

He nodded. “You’ve been asleep for about a day and a half.”

Had he sat in the hall the whole time? “What cocoon thing?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen something like it before. It was like you were surrounded by white light or something. That was you, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you not know what I’m talking about?”

She shook her head. “It probably has to do with my mother’s blood. I’ve never used those powers before, never needed to.”

“The angel?”

She snorted. “Angel… well… technically, she’s an angel. Personally, I think she’s Satan’s sister.”

His intense stare made her almost shudder. Unlike when she’d first seen him, she realized what she’d originally thought to be coldness in his eyes was, in fact, an intensity she’d never experienced before. Like he searched deep inside her for the answers to some gigantic question, only she could answer. And damn if that intensity wasn’t hot.

Celeste’s nipples hardened, and her skin flushed. She coughed and moved her sling to cover her breasts. Gods didn’t have any enhanced sense of smell or anything, did they? Because she was sure her hormones were trying to make her ovulate from looking at him.

What the fiddle-faddle? She was all but broken in half but still got aroused by a hot guy? Not a hot guy, the hot guy. The hottest guy she’d ever seen, undoubtedly. Move over Adonis and Achilles. Tyr was the god of all hotness.

She rolled her eyes. Man, she was so screwed up. Was it her dad’s side of the gene pool which made her react that way? She scoffed. More likely, her mother’s. She’d been the one to sleep with every being she got her talons into.

Tyr cocked an eyebrow at her snort.

Reaching up, Tyr took the towel from her eye. She tried to open it and the lashes parted slightly. Gently, he wiped at it, and she caught the glint of metal peeking out from under his leather glove. She was tempted to touch it, to see how it fused to his skin, but she didn’t. She wasn’t that brazen. In that one department, she wished she was more like her mother than her dad. Her mother had no shame when it came to anything.

“Try again.”

She blinked several times and opened her eye about halfway. Then she gave up and turned from him to the mirror for the first time.

Holy macaroni! What a flipping mess.

She wasn’t sure what Tyr had seen on her face, but he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s much better than before you went to sleep. A couple more days, and you’ll be as beautiful as before it happened.”

Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful?

He averted his gaze and removed his hand. “Uh… I don’t have any girl clothes, but you can borrow one of my t-shirts if you’d like. If you’re more comfortable in what you are wearing, though, you can stay like that instead.”

She peered down at her bare torso. Modesty had flown out the window between them as fast as Yegret had a few minutes prior. What did it matter? He’d already seen almost everything from the waist up. Well… more than any man before, anyway.

“I need some pants. I can’t manage a shirt, though, until my arm heals.” She remembered her sports bra. There was no way to get it off. “Uh… I think you’re gonna need to cut my bra off so I can shower. Too bad. I liked this one.”

Tyr’s eyes widened, and his gaze fell to her chest before moving swiftly away. It was his turn for his cheeks to redden.

The idea made her smile.

“Uh… If… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I… I can get you a pair of Herm’s sweats. He’s smaller than Vid and I, so you can at least pull them tight and have them not fall off.”

Something inside her felt weird about wearing Herm’s pants. But she didn’t mind the idea of wearing Tyr’s. Even if they would dwarf her.

“No, thanks. I’ll stick with my leggings.”

“Well, I can at least wash them for you.”

She thought of Tyr holding her leggings and underwear. Him putting them in the washer and then the dryer…

What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you thinking of those things? Get it together, Celeste!

“Thank you.”

He walked to the shower and turned on the water. “Let me help you unwrap your arm. Then you can get your clothes off and drop them by the door. I’ll grab them and wash them.”

She nodded. He unknotted the sling and pulled it over her head before unwrapping her arm.

Blood flooded her limb. She looked down at it. The swelling lessened, but it was still discolored. She tried to move it a little.

Nope! Nope! Nope! Not doing that again.

Tyr set towels on the counter and stopped briefly. She thought he might say something, but he strode from the bathroom.

Celeste didn’t breathe for a moment, and she took in her reflection as the sensation of his calloused hand brushing the hair over her shoulder played again and again in her mind. She shivered and shook her head as she registered the state of her hair. She might have to shave her head; her tangles were so bad. Pity. She liked her hair.

She hooked the thumb of her healed hand into her leggings and tried to push them down. They didn’t budge. Damned shaper leggings hugged her too well. She blew out a breath and tried using both hands but immediately cried out and stopped.

She took several deep breaths. She had two options. Shower in leggings or ask for help.

Peachy. Just peachy.

She hated wet clothing sticking to her skin… but did she hate it more than having to ask Tyr to undress her? She sighed. Could her mortification for being a damsel in distress get any greater? She truly doubted it.

Tyr waited outside the door for Celeste to tell him her clothes were ready to be washed. He’d berated himself for a solid two minutes about his stupidity in calling her beautiful. Not because she wasn’t, Hel knew she was, but because he’d said it out loud.

Her beauty, even with her remaining injuries, went beyond evident. Gorgeous, almond-shaped blue eyes. Skin like the fairy tale Snow White, and long, thick dark hair. Her healed lips were not quite as swollen as he’d first thought. They were just naturally plump and red. And her cheekbones were also not as he first thought. They were high and prominent, giving her face a perfect heart shape.

“Tyr?”

His name pulled him from his thoughts. He punched in the code and poked his head inside, but her clothes were nowhere to be seen. He took several steps inside and peeked into the bathroom to find her standing where he’d left her.

“What’s wrong?” He moved closer.

She rolled her eyes and scrunched up her face for a moment.

“I… I can’t get my pants off.”

A surge of desire rushed through him. Oh, Hels no! Knock that shit off!

“You… you need help?”

She gazed at the ceiling. “I am wearing shaper leggings, and the waistband is too strong for me to get off without two hands.”

What the Hel did she need shapewear for? She was perfectly shaped already. Wait… Tyr blinked several times. She wanted him to undress her. To take her pants off her?

No. Nope. Not doing it. He shouldn’t… But he really freaking wanted to. Which was the exact reason he couldn’t.

She lowered her gaze, and they stared at each other awkwardly through the mirror.

“If you won’t, someone else will need to help me. Perhaps your friend Hermódr?—”

Tyr didn’t let her finish the sentence. He moved in front of her so fast she took a step backward and bumped into the vanity. He struggled to keep visions of eviscerating Herm from his mind.

“I will do it,” he said too forcefully.

Something flickered in her eyes. Was it triumph? No, it couldn’t be.

He closed his eyes and knelt in front of her.

I can do this. I can do this.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze lined up with her breasts.

Aphrodite, Oshun, Parvati, Freya, and all the other goddesses of love above, couldn’t he catch a break? He did not need those beautiful, pale, round globes staring at him, barely covered by her sports bra.

He moved his gaze downward to her slender waist and let his gaze settle on her belly button. She’d pierced it, and a small round diamond stuck out the top. It took everything he had to keep from leaning in and kissing the soft-looking flesh.

Get her pants off. Get them off and get out. That was the mission. That was his job. He could do it despite his rock hardness pressing against his sweats.

He swallowed hard and tugged on her leggings. They didn’t budge. He tugged again. Again, they didn’t budge. He inspected the waistband. It had to be at least four inches wide and hugged her like a glove. But what the heck was she trying to keep in place?

I give up. I just give up. My life is over. I just need to admit it. Herm and Vid were right. It’s been too long since I’ve bedded a woman.

“As I mentioned, they are shaper leggings. You have to scoop your hands inside the waistband and push them down. Their job is to not budge.”

Tyr looked up at her. She had to be joking, right? “So… you want me to slide my hands inside your leggings and push them down?”

She bit her lip before nodding.

Tyr swallowed as his pants tightened further. He chastised himself for his body’s reaction. Now was not the time. Not the time at all. But he couldn’t help it. A beautiful woman had asked him to put his hands on her bare skin. Not any woman. This woman. This gorgeous, strong, strange woman. How else could he react?

No! She’s Sy’s daughter. He needed to stop thinking of her as a woman and remember he’d promised his friend he’d keep her safe.

Tyr slid his fingers inside the waistband of her leggings and worked his palms inside as well. His erection kicked painfully against his waistband as he pushed the leggings downward. Why a woman as beautiful as Celeste with the most perfect curves both sinner and saint gave her needed shapewear was beyond him.

He skimmed his hands down the outsides of her thighs, and she steadied herself by placing one hand on his shoulder as he tugged them off. He tried not to notice the pink satin panties that blocked his view, but he couldn’t help it. He bit the inside of his cheek as his thoughts turned to spreading her thighs and licking every inch of her.

Tyr stood so fast he almost fell over as he backed away. What the hell was wrong with him? She was injured. More than injured. Even her legs were covered in welts. Sure, he’d bedded women after fights before when he was injured, but that was different. He was the God of War. Injury was part of his life.

“I’ll… I’ll take your pants to be cleaned and be back later to bring you some food.” He grabbed up her pants after she stepped out of them and tore through his room for the door.

“Tyr?”

He closed his eyes. By all that was holy, why couldn’t she let him leave?

“I… I…” She blew out a breath. “I can’t get my bra off.”

Oh, sweet Frigg, Freya, and Hel. What was she trying to do to him? A man could only keep his parts in check for so long before they burst. And she skirted that line with every word that fell from her mind.

He willed his erection to deflate. He begged it to subside. But nothing happened. Finally, he took his hand holding her leggings and used it to cover himself as he turned to face her. Her expression gave nothing away as she turned away from him, exposing her back.

Tyr stared at her shapely, round rear, barely covered by a strip of fabric as wide as three fingers. Even bruised and welted, her legs were strong and muscular.

In that moment, he fought against a rise of lust inside him that had nothing to do with wanting to bathe in someone’s blood. He needed to get out, had to get out—if he didn’t, he’d surely give Sy a reason to want him dead as much as the guy who’d hurt her.

Tyr stepped up behind her, flicked his knife out of his boot, and sliced through the fabric in less than a second. Then he raced from the room before she asked him to do anything else. If she called him again, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back a third time despite his desire not to either hurt or scare her.

He strode down the hallway and banged on the first door he came to. Vidar pulled it open and spotted the leggings in Tyr’s hand.

“I need your shower.”

Vid nodded and moved into the hallway as Tyr stepped into his room and tossed her leggings to Vid.

“Washer,” was all he got out. The door wasn’t even closed before Tyr tore off his clothes and dropped them on the floor. He ran to the shower and turned it as cold as possible before jumping under and allowing the water to do to his body what he was unable to do himself. Freeze his dick into submission.