by Nashoda Rose
Christ. It was an instinctive reaction to a woman’s touch. Any woman’s, except Delara’s. I had learned to control the reaction with the pills, but she’d surprised me. I didn’t like surprises.
Anstice backed away. “I’m sorry.”
Keir took Anstice’s hand and pulled her in to his side then leaned in to her and whispered something.
Finn barked and whined as he looked from me to Anstice to Keir and back again. Then he bowed his head and ambled out of the foyer and into the living room. Smart dog. Don’t pick sides.
“Kilter may object to her being questioned,” I said. The Visionary had trust issues, and after sending him to Rest for six months, his issues would be worse. “Make certain he does not attempt to leave with her.”
“He refuses to listen to anything I say,” Keir admitted.
I continued, “Have everyone here in three hours. No exceptions.”
Keir nodded.
Then I gave them the bad news. “Trinity will also be attending the meeting to discuss the witch, Abby.”
Keir cursed.
Anstice gasped, but it wasn’t from my words. It was from the front door opening and who walked in at that exact moment.
Delara.
Jedrik sauntered in after her grinning. His eyes hit me, then Anstice and Keir then to Delara, who stood frozen, a stunned expression on her face. It was as if I’d just slapped her across the face. Yeah, she definitely heard what I’d said.
“What’s going on?” Jedrik asked, grin fading.
“Library,” I ordered Delara.
Trinity was coming here? To the Talde house? I glared at Waleron for several seconds as Anstice and Keir slipped away while Jedrik squeezed my hand before telling me through telepathy to keep my cool.
Fine, Tac wanted to chat, I’d chat, but it wasn’t going to be friendly when it involved Trinity. I tilted my chin up and brushed past him into the library. This would just be another one of our fuel-charged arguments. There was so much anger, passion, and heat between us that it was impossible to be in the same room together and not have combustion.
I was about self-destruction and Waleron was about ultimate control. The two could not mix.
I jerked as Waleron shut the door and leaned up against it, arms crossed as if to block my escape. “You’re still seeing Liam.”
Fuck. What the hell? How did he find out? I noticed he avoided the words sleeping, fucking, or having sex with. I refused to bend under his cool intensity when I replied, “Yeah.”
“You fuckin’ lied to me!” His pulse throbbed in his temples. Shit, he was mad. Like livid mad. He didn’t swear unless he was about to lose his shit. So, yeah, he was about to lose his shit.
I swallowed. “Not really. I did stop sleeping with him.”
“Why, Delara?”
Because I had no choice. “To protect someone.” A half-lie. How could I tell him the truth, though? How was I supposed to tell him I’d been pregnant all those years ago? That Liam was threatening my child’s life? A child that had been born dead, and yet I couldn’t take the chance that he was telling the truth.
“Abby,” he stated.
He knew about Abby? I fiddled with the pockets of my khaki cargo pants, nails digging into the material. Tears threatening to fall and I pinched my thighs.
I inhaled a ragged breath. “We didn’t tell you about her because you’re obligated to tell the Wraiths. They’d have killed her, Tac.”
“Our law has changed since Balen—”
I interrupted, “For Scars, not witches, and you’re so goddamn loyal to them that you’d have handed her over like a mouse to a snake.” I bowed my head, needing a moment to escape his ice-blue eyes that used to look at me with such adoration.
Waleron’s voice hardened. “You think so poorly of me?” I looked up and his brows rose. I didn’t say anything. “Yes, I’m obligated to inform the Wraiths, but I protect all, including the witches when need be.”
“You think you have the power to do that?” I shook my head, jagged strands falling in front of my eyes. “You don’t. Not from this.”
Waleron remained quiet and I forced myself to keep my eyes on him despite wanting to look away. Everything in my body came alive when I was near him, and it hurt like hell. No, it was more than that. It was as if I was being killed over and over again.
“If I stay with Liam, he won’t go after Abby,” I said.
“No!” Waleron shouted. He ran a hand over his shaved head and broke eye contact. Every muscle flexed with frustration, and it appeared like he was looking for something to smash his fist into. But he wouldn’t. This was Tac. “And you think he’ll let you just walk away? When? When, Delara?” he said.
No, I doubted he’d let me walk away unscathed, but I didn’t care about me. “Once Abby is out of danger, we can decide what to do about Liam.”
“If no laws are broken, we can do nothing,” Waleron stated. “Abby willingly drank his blood. That was her choice.”
“She was drunk and stupid. We all make mistakes.”
He glared at me, arms at his sides, hands curled into fists. “Was Edan a mistake?”
“Was Trinity?” I shot back.
“No. I did what had to be done.”
“So, did I.”
He was quiet a second before he said, “I find out you go near Liam again, I will put you in Rest.”
I stiffened. “Bastard.” I grabbed the closest thing to me, a hardcover book, and threw it at him. Waleron raised his hand and it dropped to the floor with a crash before it could hit him. I used my telekinesis and five encyclopedias flew toward him. Then the green vase that sat on Keir’s desk. Then the statue sitting on the side table beside the couch.
None of it hit him. All landed at his feet.
The tension in Waleron’s body eased as his hands uncurled and he casually crossed his ankles. The stupid bloody pills he took had to be taking effect.
“I’ve called Trinity here to find out more about Abby.” His voice was calm and controlled again. “There is something we’re missing. Liam risked his truce with us by sending his underling after Rayne. Why when his interest was in Abby? Why has it suddenly shifted to Rayne?” He paused, shoved away from the door, and walked toward me, stopping a foot away. “You will stop seeing him, Delara. I don’t care if he starts a war. I don’t care if he goes after Abby or Rayne. You will not see him again.” He stopped in front of me. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”
I did. I understood, and yet, I couldn’t do what he said.
“Do you understand?” he shouted when I didn’t reply.
My body jerked and I nodded. “Yeah. I understand.”
Waleron stared at me for several seconds, and I felt him push at my shields, trying to read my mind. I clenched my jaw and resisted him. Finally, the pressure in my head released.
“The meeting is in three hours. I expect you to be here,” he said.
I strode across the room, opened the door, and walked out.
I walked upstairs into the kitchen, rinsed the soup bowl, put it in the dishwasher, and took out the ingredients to make her a chicken sandwich. I was spreading butter on the bread when Keir spoke to me telepathically.
“Meeting in three hours. Mandatory. Bring Rayne.”
Fuck. I hated meetings and Rayne didn’t need to listen to a bunch of Scars discussing the sewer rats of the city. I pressed my palm down on the thick sandwich before it toppled over on the plate. A loud thump stole my attention.
Then several more thumps and glass shattering.
What the fuck?
Maybe someone else was pissed at having a meeting.
I headed through the dining room, living room, and into the foyer and stopped. The library doors were closed and whoever was in there was pissed.
“When are you moving out?” Jedrik sauntered down the hall toward me. “Or do you plan on another round of Rest by following that instinct of yours?”
I shrugged. Following my instinct made life simpler. Even
when I rescued Ryker from Rayne’s psycho scientist husband, I’d gone in with no plan. Plans usually involved others, which meant others knew what you were doing, a mistake I’d learned from.
Jedrik curled his arm around the stair post. “Did Rest teach you anything or just piss you off more?”
“Yeah,” I said without moving a muscle, eyes glaring. “It taught me to kill Scars who piss me off.”
Jedrik laughed. “Let me guess, I piss you off.”
I snorted as the library door flung open and both of us turned.
Delara stormed out and marched straight past me, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
“Fuck,” Jedrik muttered. “That shit between them needs to end before they combust.”
I walked over to the library and looked inside. There were several books on the floor, a broken statue, and a shattered glass vase. My eyes hit Waleron standing by the window looking as if he’d had an afternoon chat with Delara instead of a heated argument.
“Keir said there’s a meeting and Rayne is supposed to come. She isn’t ready for that shit.” I kept my voice calm. Being sent to Rest again was unproductive and would put Rayne at risk without me here to protect her. I had to keep my shit together.
Waleron glanced over at me, brows lifted. “Maybe not, but she will attend anyway. We require information and she may have it. How is she after the attack?”
I clenched my jaw, not liking his answer. “Good as can be expected. But she’d be in vampire hands right now if I hadn’t been there. I can’t even trust you guys to watch over one girl.” I turned to stalk out when his voice stopped me.
“It won’t work this time,” Waleron called.
“What?” I swung around and glared at the man who’d put me in Rest for six bloody months to relive Rayne’s, Gemma’s, my own fuckin’ screams.
“You can’t fight this one alone.”
“You want to make a bet?”
Waleron straightened and came toward me. “You don’t get it, do you? Trust. That’s what you lack. And that is the only way you’ll win this battle.”
I stiffened, meeting his glare. “Last time I did that, my woman was raped, then killed. I was tortured for ten years. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Waleron? Being tortured day after day for years.”
“Rayne is not Gemma, Kilter. If you had listened to us when we tried to explain what happened, you would know the truth. But you refused to talk about it and now you don’t deserve it. You’re so filled with anger that you can’t see through to the truth.”
“You should fuckin’ talk,” I retorted.
Waleron’s jaw clenched. “Do not make Rayne the savior for your past or it will destroy what you already have.” He approached and stopped a foot away. “Rayne is a Scar, Kilter.” What the fuck? I hadn’t seen that coming. “And you will bring her to the meeting.” Waleron brushed past me and walked out the front door.
I SIGHED AS THE warmth of a wet, warm cloth slid across my neck then across my collarbone. Every morning it was the same routine and I often pretended to be asleep, knowing he’d stop if he knew I was awake. His strokes were hesitant, always careful to keep as much of my body covered with the sheet as he cleaned the sweat from my body after my night before of ranting and raving during my freak-out episodes.
I heard the splash as he dunked the cloth into the bucket, lifted it, and squeezed out the water. His familiar and comforting scent lingered in the air, cedar and sage with a hint of black pepper. That scent was embedded in me, linked to Damien, linked to how he carefully stroked my body every morning for the last few weeks. The most I managed on my own now was getting up to go to the washroom.
There was no embarrassment that he knew me so intimately. He’d seen me naked before any of this happened.
He pulled the sheet back to my waist then lifted my T-shirt to just below my breasts. He was always careful that he didn’t touch me directly, but his baby finger slipped from the cloth and trailed a path up over abdomen to my ribs and my breath hitched as goose bumps rose. He abruptly pulled away and I heard the cloth drop into the bucket of water and his weight left the bed.
Shit, he knew I was awake.
I opened my eyes, but it was painful now, like peeling apart two thin pieces of paper glued together. I tensed as sharp pain shot through my head when the light blinded me for several seconds. There were no windows in the room, but Damien had the lamp on. It was the third lamp he’d had to replace on the nightstand since he brought me here. Either someone was bringing him supplies or he was running out of lamps in the rest of the cottage.
My eyes lifted to Damien who stood beside the bed, glowering. Yep, he had a good glower and I knew it well. He liked to think he was made of stone, but I knew he wasn’t; I’d experienced his passion, knew how deep it ran.
It was when he began to sit with me during the days that I got a sense of who this man was. Rarely sharing anything of himself, yet speaking in calm soothing words to keep my thirst from rising. His voice was what I clung to as I slipped in and out of consciousness.
And I wasn’t stupid. I was well aware I was dying. It was just a matter of when. I could no longer keep the food down Damien forced me to eat. Water was the only substance left that I could swallow, and soon even that I’d have to give up.
My plan had failed. It had been a risk from the beginning, but becoming pregnant had changed everything. Now, I knew how dangerous it was to become a vampire. The thirst. The inability to know what I was doing. No control. If I turned, the ramifications of it were catastrophic. Damien would be at risk and so would anyone who came near me. I couldn’t take that chance. I wouldn’t.
“You need to eat,” Damien said.
He said that every morning when I woke, and every morning for the past three days I refused. “I can’t.” And every morning when I refused food, he walked out. “Please, don’t leave yet,” I whispered.
If I was going to die, I wanted him close to me, to feel his heartbeat beneath my palm, to hear his tranquil, soothing words. I could die peacefully with him at my side. Him. Damien. The man who sacrificed months of his life for me.
“Damien,” I said, closing my eyes briefly to the light that burned them. I was sensitive to everything now, light, dark, touch, smell—even Damien’s breath that wisped across my skin when he sat with me. “Please.”
“You were awake,” he said.
I shrugged, half-smiling. “I like when you wash me.” His back stiffened and I quickly continued. “I’m in hell, Damien. Every day is hell. I can’t remember the nights, but in the morning everything hurts. When you sit with me or wash me, it’s the only time I’m not in hell. Don’t take all I have left away from me.”
“Fuck, Abbs.”
I bit my lip, waiting for more, but he stood towering over me for a minute before his shoulders sagged and he sat on the bed, pushing up so he could lean against the headboard.
I rolled onto my side, so I felt his hard length against me, then rested my head on his chest. This is how I wanted to die. Here. With his heart beating beneath me. His warmth surrounding me.
He never caressed my hair like I wanted him to do, but sometimes, if I was lucky, he’d rest his arm across my shoulders and I’d feel his thumb casually stroking. My guess, he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Today was no different. He made no move to touch me, merely let me touch him.
I wondered if he knew I was going to die. How long had we been here now? I had to keep track of the days as we were getting near my birthday and I’d be twenty-five. A dangerous age. Too dangerous to stay alive.
“Promise me something?” I tilted my head, my cheek brushing over his chest as I peered up at him. His eyes weren’t on me, though; they stared straight ahead and he was so tense. I raised my hand, and it trembled from weakness, but I was able to run two fingers over the stubble on his chin. I liked that he didn’t shave every day, the rough texture caressing the pads of my fingers. “Damien, I need you to promise me something.”
&n
bsp; “Not promising anything, Abbs.”
“But you haven’t even heard what I want from you yet,” I objected.
He remained quiet for a second then said, “You have enough of me already.”
Whatever that meant; his time, maybe? I’d ruined his life for the past however long. “Look at me.” He refused and I raised my voice, which made it crackle because after a night of ranting my throat was always raw in the mornings. “Look at me, Damien.”
He grabbed my hand, pulled it away from his face, and put it back on his chest where he clamped it down with his own. Only then did he lower his gaze to meet mine and I half-smiled. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He grunted.
Before he could look away again—because I needed to see his expression when I asked—I said, “Promise you’ll let me die.” He immediately scowled and I felt his heart beneath my hand speed up. “If it’s between death and becoming a vampire, I choose death.” His lips pursed and I had the urge to run my finger across the surface of them. “I’m slipping, Damien. I’m weak and I can’t keep anything in my stomach.”
“Christ, Abbs. You’re not going to die, okay?” His voice was ragged and yet firm. “I won’t let you. Go to sleep.”
It was imperative he make this promise. If it came to letting me die or giving me his blood to let me live, he might weaken. I could never become a vampire. “Promise me. Never let me take your blood. This is important, Damien.”
He stared at the far wall.
“I won’t be Liam’s slave. Don’t make me become his slave. I can’t. It would destroy me. Promise me no matter what happens that you will let me die.”
“No,” Damien said abruptly.
I stilled. “What? No?”
“Yeah. No. Now go to sleep.”
I was shocked. Scars killed vampires. He had to promise me this. I was dangerous as a vampire. If I told him what I would be capable of, then maybe he’d realize how serious this was. The Scars would hunt me down if they knew. I’d be a threat to myself and to everyone else. “It’s against your laws to let anyone take your blood, so—”