T. Grey: Chains of Frost

Commander.”

“What he’s trying to say is that by then half the hostel was awake because the demon would not stop roaring and finesse was no longer our strong suit. We saw the woman through the window. It was just her and another. We don’t know where the third sister is. They put up a hell of a fight, even managed a few good blows,” Draven said, rubbing his reddened cheek thoughtfully. “But we knocked her out, got her here ASAP.”

“How did you transport her?” It was not concern he had over the female, simply an

interest in the facts.

“We knocked her out with a tranq and ported her straight here,” Rayn said. The sound of heavy footsteps brought everyone’s attention to the open doorway.

“You guys are dicks.” Both Rayn and Draven broke into grins.

Tyrian’s scowl deepened as he took in the English warrior carrying a loose-limbed

female. He both smelled and saw the sight of Henry’s bloodied stomach.

“How bad is the wound and why isn’t one of you carrying her instead?”

Henry came forward not even breaking a sweat. “Because as I said Commander Tyrian,

they are dicks. Where do you want her?” Tyrian had the urge to step back from the unconscious female, but he fought it and instead took one forward and pointed to the rug in front of the hearth. Henry nodded and deposited her softly on the fur rug. Tyrian wasn’t surprised at Henry’s gentleness; the warrior always did have a weakness for women.

When he stood though, his grimace of pain was not faked. As if forgetting something, he sighed and dropped to one knee. “Commander Tyrian.” He rose with another grimace then sent withering glares to Rayn and Draven as he stalked to a chair.

“Go see Nanu about your wounds.”

There was a tightening around the warrior’s eyes. “The wound isn’t worth troubling her about. It should heal by morning.”

“You will see her now. End of discussion.” Henry gave a clipped nod then spun out of the room on hard steps.

“Which sister is missing?”

Draven shrugged. “Her twin.”

Tyrian cut a look to the bundled heap of woman asleep on his rug. He couldn’t see her face since her back was towards him. All he did see was a massive pile of shiny hair the color of polished wood. For some reason his eyes drew over her body, taking in her shape, and it was then that his eyes narrowed.

“What is she wearing?” When silence ensued, he glared at both of his warriors. He had never experienced such lack of response in all his years with them. He made a mental note to add in extra training time for them—a lot of it.

“It’s a bath towel,” Draven said with a predatory grin that Tyrian hated. In his mind, he saw himself swinging his fist out and connecting it with Draven’s jaw. He shook his head to rid himself of the image. What was wrong with him?

“Was she bathing when you found her?” Why he asked that question, he had no idea. His mind quickly went through all the possibilities of how learning this information could be relevant, but could think of none.

“No, she was asleep, naked. With the demon outside kicking Henry’s ass, we didn’t

exactly have a lot of time to dress her properly and all that. Plus she was feisty when we woke her up.”

“Feisty? She nearly took your head off and that sister of hers was like a demon-possessed woman. I gotta say I’m glad this assignment’s over. Give me murder and mayhem any day, but a couple of angry females you have to be extra careful not to hurt while a giant demon outside is roaring mad—no thanks.”

The female on the floor moaned softly and drew all gazes to her. Tyrian tightened his hands into fists behind his back. Even without seeing her face, he saw that she was too feminine, too soft looking to be here with him, in this castle of death. She made another soft noise then fidgeted on the rug. The action sent the towel slipping precariously down so that one breast was in danger of flashing everyone.

“Get out,” Tyrian said. His guards looked at him in shock then immediately stood, bowed to the waist, and ducked out of the room. The door shut softly behind them.

Tyrian rubbed a hand over his face and immediately regretted the action. Control.

Already he felt himself weakening. The second he started to lose it, he’d be downhill from there.

The female would be a problem. When was a woman not?

He closed his eyes and steeled his thoughts, his emotions, his body. He owed Frank

Bellum a great debt and was finally ready to make good on it, after a thousand years.

But never once in the thousand years did he guess that this would be his payment. A woman. His daughter. A treasured and loved woman now in his tainted, bloodied grasp. What was Frank thinking leaving her to him? And he’d put it in his will a year before he even died.

He’d planned it.

Tyrian stalked to the window and looked out at the moonlight. The moon was a thin

sliver in the sky. Soon the sky would darken with the sight of the new moon. He looked down at the woman on the floor. He saw only a portion of her face, the rest of it covered in a sweep of hair. His attention drew to her lips, soft looking and thin. He yearned to tear his gaze away but that would be a breach in his control, so he forced himself to steadily, slowly lift his eyes from her.

A succubus woman under his protection. It was almost laughable. But as he looked back up at that moon, he knew he would not be laughing come the new moon.

Henry paused outside the medical ward. He took several deep breaths before he felt ready enough to go in there. Maybe she wouldn’t be in there. Maybe some tech would be there instead or even her asshole brother. Yeah right, he was not that lucky.

Cracking his knuckles, he opened the door and stepped inside. Instantly he saw her. How could he not? She looked up at him from behind her desk. Her eyes lit up and she smiled. It was like being hit in the chest by a truck. The breath he’d been taking just whooshed out of him. Her eyes tracked down over his chest and her smile died. There, at least he could breathe again.

She stood and grabbed her white lab coat from the rack behind her. “What happened?”

Her voice was brisk, efficient, and soft. It also held a trace of her accent that spoke of her Egyptian heritage.

“Just a fight.” She cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at him.

“Take a seat on the table. I’ll need to have a look at it.” He loved the sound of her voice.

The way she spoke rolled her letters together in a way that drove him crazy. As long as she didn’t say his name. He couldn’t seem to keep his dick down when she said his name in that soft, husky voice.

He hopped onto the white hospital bed and barely managed to hide the wince. She

snapped on a pair of latex gloves and came to stand in front of him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to spread his legs so she had to stand between them. He was definitely a narcissist.

“I’ll need to know what happened, Henry.”

He closed his eyes as a flush of pleasure soared through him. His dick went hard and he didn’t know if it was because she smelled like a mixture of rain and woman, because she stood between his legs, or because she said his name. She said his name like it was something thick and luscious she wanted to roll around in her mouth. No one had ever said his name like that. He was also certain half of what he was thinking right now was bat shit crazy.

“Got into a fight with a demon.” He watched her between lowered lashes as she gently lifted his blood-soaked shirt up to his chest. She didn’t gasp or faint at the ravaged skin of his stomach. She merely assessed the damage with a critical eye. That shouldn’t turn him on but....