Free Absolute Surrender by Georgia Lyn Hunter

nothing compared to this carnage. Is that what you want?”
    The reminder of how his lethal powers had eliminated not only towns and villages, during a time when demoniis had taken over this realm, but destroyed mortals, too, caught Aethan off guard.
    He wheeled around, shoved Týr back. “You think you’re any better? At least I don’t look for the easy way out of this life.”
    “Unlike you, I won’t murder thousands. It’s only my life that would end—what’s the matter? Some female left you all bent-up, you—” Týr’s eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “Must suck not to be bound by our fucked-up laws and still not have what you want.”
    Týr struck too close to the truth. Knowing he could never touch Echo the way he wanted spiked Aethan’s temper to dangerous levels. The pit in his gut grew. He lashed out, wanting to maim. “Guess five centuries in Tartarus wasn’t enough?”
    Týr stiffened. Red-hot fury and utter betrayal thickened the air. He shoved Aethan back hard. “Fuck you, asshole!”
    His sword falling to the floor with an ominous clang, he stalked out of the gym.
    Aethan swung around and slammed his fist into the wall. Bones shattered, skin split and blood dripped onto the floor. Mentioning Týr’s imprisonment in the deepest part of the Dark Realm was a low blow, even for him.
    His gaze settled on the fallen sword. He’d drawn blood without the need of a weapon.
    When the layers of his soul were peeled away, he wondered if he had any heart left. Or did he just not care who he hurt anymore? Self-loathing could do that to a person. Too many deaths. Too many innocent deaths had stained his soul. He could still hear their screams from centuries ago as he took out demonii infested villages and towns, leaving nothing behind but ash.
    The door to the gymnasium opened and Blaéz strolled in.
    “What happened? The Norse left in a blaze and I mean that literally, like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Blaéz glanced at the spots of blood on the floor then at Aethan’s ruined hand.
    Ignoring him, Aethan strode to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water. The cold liquid sliding down his throat did little to dull his anger, but remorse slithered in and settled like an old friend.
    ‘ Why not tell Blaéz the truth ?’ the darkness creeping inside his head prodded him. He tried to shut out the destructive whispers.
    Fuck, he wouldn’t sink lower than he already had. How could he tell Blaéz anything, without bringing back horrifying memories of a past best forgotten?
    In the Realms of the Gods, they’d once been protectors of the Goddess Of Life until evil intruded and she’d disappeared, never to be seen again. As punishment, they’d been stripped of their powers and incarcerated in the deepest, darkest level of the Dark Realm.
    In Tartarus.
    A place where Blaéz lost all emotions after his soul had been ripped from him. Not an easy thing to do when you were a god.
    Icy water splashing on his hand, jerked him back.
    “Your mood’s been off lately,” Blaéz said, his empty stare ramming home to Aethan the void the male lived in. No emotions. No feelings. Inflicted pain was all Blaéz felt.
    “Leave it alone.” Aethan refused to talk about Echo with anyone. Ever.
    He tossed the water bottle into the recycle bin and strode over to the stack of towels on a shelf near the lockers. He picked one, threw it over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Inhaled slowly. Gods, he needed to calm down.
    Damn hard to do when self-hatred raged in him. His fists tightened. The scabs crusting over on his knuckles cracked and split, started oozing again. The pain of his busted hand reminded him he’d finally taken over the slot of Asshole of the Year.
    He’d find Týr and...yeah. The thought of apologizing stuck in his craw. He should have shut his damn mouth and left well alone—like he always did when dealing with Týr.
    He stalked past Blaéz.
    “Wait.”
    Teeth gritted, Aethan turned slowly.