Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)

by Nashoda Rose

That caught everyone’s attention.

  “Do you know why?” Keir asked.

  I nodded. “It’s always easier to control someone if you have something they love.”

  “Fuck,” Kilter said at the same time as Keir.

  “Rayne, do you have any idea why a vampire would be interested in you?” Keir asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m no different than any other Scar.”

  “And what kind of Scar are you, Rayne?” Waleron asked.

  I didn’t really know the kinds of Scars.

  “A Reflector of sorts,” Kilter answered for me. “She has an Ink, but it hasn’t risen in years.” He looked down at me. Would you like me to tell them what you can do?

  I nodded.

  Okay, babe. He looked at Waleron. “She reads emotions like all Reflectors, but accompanied with her touch, she can soothe them or heighten them. She’s also able to remove emotions and replace them with new ones.” Several brows lifted, except Waleron, who looked as if he already knew this. “And take away someone’s emotions until they have none left.”

  “You mean, kill them?” Anstice asked.

  “Yes,” Kilter said. “A person can’t survive without emotions. They die.”

  “Holy shit, that’s cool,” Hack said.

  “Have you done this?” Keir asked me.

  I nodded. “Once. To a guard, but I’ll never do it again.”

  “Interesting,” Trinity said. Her lips twitched with amusement, but she wisely held her tongue.

  The screen door slammed and footsteps came from the kitchen. Delara walked into the room then stopped abruptly. Her eyes swept over everyone, hesitating on Waleron before landing on Trinity.

  I’d gotten to know Delara pretty well, and with the way she stood, arms crossed, legs parted, she was ready for a fight. Her eyes remained locked on the witch, tension emanating from both of them.

  There was no question that Delara and Trinity hated one another, and Waleron had to be the reason. I knew Delara as warm and caring, but at this moment, she was a pissed-off viper. This was something personal and bled hatred.

  “Nice of you to finally join us,” Waleron said.

  “God, Sass,” Jedrik said, shaking his head.

  Waleron continued, “We were waiting for you to discuss why Liam would be interested in acquiring Abigail and now Rayne. You’re closest to Liam. Perhaps you can enlighten us?”

  Delara’s focus remained on Trinity as she said, “No. Liam and I stick to conversations about sex.”

  Oh shit.

  Jedrik swore beneath his breath while Hack lowered his head to his hands. This couldn’t be good, a Scar sleeping with a vampire. That had to be what she and Jedrik had been arguing about and where she’d been those nights she didn’t come home.

  Trinity’s laughter echoed, her expressive features lighting up. “Oh, what a marvelous playmate, Delara. A vampire and one so enthralling. Do tell—how is he in bed? Gentle or rough? I’d imagine he is very attentive to a woman’s needs. Liam is rather charming.”

  “Enough!” Waleron shouted. The sound vibrated through the room and even Trinity flinched. “What does Liam want with a witch?” Waleron asked.

  Delara shrugged. “No idea.”

  “But why risk pissing us off?” Jedrik asked. “Liam isn’t stupid, regardless of being a psychotic.”

  Delara shifted her feet. “He wanted us to take Abby. He found out Abby was pregnant and couldn’t survive the Transition. So, he let us take her, knowing if anyone could save her life, it would be us.” Delara’s fingers curled into the side of her pants. “He was content with her gone for a while, but in the last week or so, he’s been impatient.”

  “Is that why you were late? Were you fucking him, Delara?” Trinity asked.

  Everyone tensed as Delara’s eyes shot to Trinity and her back went ramrod straight. “Yes. Are you still fucking Waleron?”

  Shit, that was what was between them.

  Jedrik groaned and Anstice gasped.

  Trinity’s laughter was husky and deep. “Ah, touché, my dear.”

  “Trinity,” Waleron warned. “Why would Liam break our truce in order to obtain Abigail? Why does he care if she lives? He could have washed his hands of her when he discovered she was pregnant.”

  Trinity slid her penetrating gaze from Delara to Waleron. “Abigail must never become a vampire.”

  Waleron’s eyes narrowed.

  “What are you hiding, Trinity?” Jedrik asked.

  Trinity sent him a haughty look, her fingers tapping lightly on her thighs. “I demand to know where she is. I’ll have Mariana take her to the realm.”

  “She’s in detox. You take her now, she’ll die,” Balen said.

  “And the Wraiths will kill her if they find out,” Jedrik added.

  Trinity remained silent and, for the first time since she entered the room, she appeared uneasy. “If Abigail has drunk from Liam, she must be taken to the realm. She must be killed.”

  Jedrik stood, his eyes glaring at Trinity. “Bull friggin’ shit. Not happening.”

  Waleron raised his hand and nodded to Trinity to continue.

  “As you know, witches come into their powers on their twenty-fifth birthday. Abigail will have her mother Leona’s power.”

  “And?” Kilter asked.

  “Liam must know about it,” Trinity said.

  “And what power is that, Trinity?” Kilter asked.

  “She can turn water into blood,” Trinity announced.

  “Holy fuck,” Jedrik said at the same time as Balen, Danni, and Keir swore under their breaths.

  “And so Liam will have an endless supply if she turns,” Anstice murmured.

  “When is her birthday?” Waleron asked.

  Trinity paled, and it made her blood red lips stand out even more. “Yesterday.”

  Waleron’s face turned deadly, brows lowering and eyes churning in swirls of ice blue and white with gold flecks. But it was the tattoo on his neck that had me clutching Kilter’s arm. The snake’s eyes turned blood red, and then it slithered around his neck.

  “Damien,” Waleron said. And with that one word, he turned to mist, disappearing from the room.

  “You stupid bitch,” Balen shouted. “Damien will give her water to ease the bloodthirst. She will turn.”

  “Then Damien will have to kill her,” Trinity said. “As a vampire, Abigail will become Liam’s slave. That is unacceptable. An endless supply of blood will make him very powerful. Vampires around the world will come under his rule.”

  “No shit,” Jedrik said, running his hand through his unruly curls. Suddenly, he jolted, his eyes widening. “You want her to Turn,” he shouted at Trinity. “Then you can wash your hands of her. You hated Leona for passing off her daughter to you. Your coven will be in constant danger with Abby’s ability just like Leona’s was. You want her to turn so we’ll kill her.” He leapt off the couch and went for Trinity.

  THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL OF the past months hit bottom the moment I woke mid-afternoon and felt coldness seep into my body. I scrambled off the bed and knelt on the floor, my fingers curled around Abby’s limp, cold hand.

  “Fuck. No.”

  I’d taken off for a few hours. Even got in the car and headed for the highway. For the airport. To go home. Drove an hour before I turned around and came back then sat in the car another hour before finally coming inside.

  That’s when I crawled into bed and pulled her into my arms. She never woke, and now I knew why.

  Nothing in my immortal life could prepare me for this single moment. Shallow, ragged breaths inhaled agonizingly slow then exhaled in long drawn-out crackled sighs. Her eyes remained closed, and my heart skipped a beat at the thought I might never see them again.

  “Abbs, don’t give up,” I begged.

  Lowering my head, I kissed the back of her cold, lifeless hand. Her pulse beat beneath my touch, but it hesitated and struggled with each thump. “Please.” It was a voice I didn’t recognize, tortured and de
sperate.

  I couldn’t let her die. Not Abbs. Not when she’d made it this far.

  But her will to live had slipped through her fingers. No, it was my fingers. It had been my responsibility to give her a reason to live. To fight.

  Jesus. How did this happen? How did she become so important?

  I lay my forehead on her arm, my grip on her hand tightening, afraid to let go, terrified that if I did, she’d slip from my grasp forever. But she had already. She was dying.

  “I know you’re strong, Abbs. You can fight. Fuck, you have to fight this, damn it.” Anger surfaced at her giving up, at myself for being unable to do anything except sit by her bed and watch her die. “For fuck’s sake, don’t you dare give up. Don’t leave me, baby.”

  I never thought I’d care about a woman. But Abby was different. Her laughter was genuine and her eyes were filled with spark. She was playful, brave, sexy, and fuckin’ stupid for fucking me. Irresponsible for drinking from Liam. But she didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes.

  I jerked my head up when her hand lightly squeezed mine. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then I was looking into her eyes. I inhaled a ragged breath as relief poured over me.

  I grabbed the glass of water I’d tried numerous times over the past couple of days to get her to drink, but she refused. “Abbs, drink. You have to drink.”

  She ignored the glass of water and instead reached toward me, softly pressing her index finger to my lips. “Damien.” Her eyes closed for a few seconds and my heart beat erratically. “Thank you… for coming back and not… letting me die alone.” Her voice was barely audible, as if it was a struggle to speak. “I…want to die with you…holding me.”

  “Christ, baby. You’re not going to die.” I rested my arm above her head on the pillow and stroked her hair with the tips of my fingers. “Ride this out a while longer. I won’t leave you again. It was stupid. I freaked out for a few hours. But you have to drink something.” I held the glass up to her lips, but she turned her head away. “Fuck, baby. Please.” I set the glass of water on the nightstand when she refused to even look at it.

  She squeezed my hand. “It was fun, you know. Us.” She stopped to take a deep breath then coughed and blood misted into the air. I grabbed the cloth off the nightstand and wiped away tiny specs that had landed on her chin. “The shower was…” she coughed again and this time a trail of blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth, “hot. Against the window… better.”

  “Everyone for miles saw your ass pressed against it,” I said.

  She tried to laugh, but it came out a choke instead, and I cursed myself for making her laugh. She closed her eyes and readjusted her grip on my hand. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?”

  “This is not happening.” I shook my head. “Don’t even think about dying.”

  A tiny smile came to her lips. “I really like you, you know. You’re… cute when I know you… want to be tough.” Her grip faltered. “It was my fault. This. I thought I could destroy them, but… I didn’t know the bloodlust was so… strong. The baby…” She closed her eyes, head rolling to the side with a long drawn-out sigh. “It’s better… this… way, Damien.”

  “Abbs! Abbs. Goddamn it, Abby. Look at me.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her once. Twice. Her limp body remained unmoving. I frantically looked at her chest. No movement.

  A strangled cry left my throat like a horrid screech of an animal in unbearable pain. I pulled her to me and her head fell back.

  “Nooooo! No, Abbs. I won’t let you go.” I kissed the top of her head. “No. I won’t let you go.” I was not going to carry her death on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t survive it.

  Her words repeated over and over in my head. A promise I’d refused to give her and this was why.

  I gently laid her back on the bed, sweeping her hair back from her face, then reached into my boot and pulled out my blade. With one swift cut, I sliced my wrist just enough for the blood to rise to the surface. I never hesitated before, but I thought about the consequences of what this meant. Abby would live, but as something different, something I hunted and killed.

  The blood dripped from my wrist to the bedspread and soaked into the material. My eyes watched as Abby’s lips turned blue and her eyes remained open—lifeless.

  “I’m sorry, babe, but I won’t let you go.” I held my wrist over her mouth and a drop of blood slid down my skin, inches from her mouth.

  A sudden blast of energy hit me and knocked me away from the bed and into the nightstand. The glass of water went flying and the cheap lamp fell to the floor and shattered.

  “Just in time,” Waleron said, his solid form emerging from mist. “Stay away from her, Damien. It’s too late to save her, and she must not Transition.”

  I crawled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “I can’t let her die.”

  “So you’ll make her something she’d hate you for?” Waleron nodded toward Abby. “She turned twenty-five yesterday. With her birthday came the ability to turn water into blood. A vampire with her ability is catastrophic. Liam must have known about it.”

  “Fuck.” I glanced over at the cold, lifeless body I’d spent every second of every day for months with. That was why she always asked me the date. Why she’d refused to drink the water over the past few days. She knew what would happen if she drank water after her birthday.

  If she had drunk the water, she’d have turned into a vampire, changing the water to blood. I wouldn’t have known until it was too late. She’d have killed me.

  “So we just let her die?” I said.

  “She is dead, Damien. There is nothing we can do.”

  The words were too real, sinking into me like a lead weight, carrying me under until I could barely breathe. Never to see her smile, feel her touch, hear her laughter. No, she couldn’t be gone.

  I inched closer to the bed, needing to feel her, to hear her voice, feel her hand resting on my chest like she did while we sat together every day. Once more. That was all I needed. Just one more time.

  Waleron grabbed my arm and jerked me back. “No, Damien. Leave here. I will take her back to the coven.”

  I pulled out of his grip and glared at him. I felt the heat of my Ink tingling on my shoulder. It was moving within me, needing vengeance—freedom. My Ink had a mind of its own, and I never called to it because it had more control over me than I had of it.

  Waleron knew it too by the way his eyes swirled with power. “Unleash it and I will retaliate with its demise.”

  “Then give me this. Give me time to say goodbye.”

  “No. I feel your emotions. You will do anything to see her live. I cannot risk it. Walk away, Damien,” Waleron warned.

  My eyes blazed with fury and my Ink burned. Everything in me said to fight for her, but everything sane said to walk away and live another day.

  A sudden intake of breath had both of us turning to the bed.

  “Abby?” I ran to the bed, fell to my knees, and took her hand. “Sweet Jesus, Abbs, I thought I’d—”

  “Get away from her!” Waleron shouted. He nodded to the glass of water that had been on the nightstand and now lay empty next to her on the bed. Abby’s face was covered in water. “She’s Transitioned.”

  AFTER WALERON’S ABRUPT DEPARTURE and Jedrik going after Trinity, which had Kilter and Keir diving for him before he reached her, the Scars discussed what to do next. Kilter would go to Liam’s club, and Delara and Jedrik would Track the woman from the compound. Balen was to hunt CWOs and vampires and try to obtain answers from them.

  I’d mentioned calling Roarke to see if he could tell us more, but Kilter had gone deadly quiet. So had everyone else. They blamed Roarke for Hannah and the other Scars’ deaths and for what happened to Ryker, and they were right to blame him. He was partially responsible.

  That was when Kilter grabbed my hand and we went downstairs to his bedroom. And that was when he kissed me until my knees weakened then told me to stay here and h
e’d be back later.

  That was two hours ago.

  I took out the crinkled piece of paper from the side pocket of my purse. I’d debated for hours whether to call him, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I tapped the numbers on my cell.

  “Yeah?”

  “Roarke? It’s Rayne.”

  Silence, then, “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m okay. But the woman from the compound, we need to know about her. Who is she and why—” I jerked when there was a crash upstairs.

  “Rayne? What wrong?”

  A loud thump.

  Oh, God, it was like a body hit the floor. “I don’t know. Someone is here.” The sounds became louder, like furniture being overturned. Kilter. I had to call Kilter.

  “Get out of there,” Roarke ordered. “Where are you? I’ll meet you.”

  “I’m at the Scars’ house.”

  “Rayne, we can’t hold them off much longer. You need to get out. Go to the gallery. Delara will meet you.” It was Keir speaking telepathically to me. He was upstairs fighting with whoever was after me.

  “Talk to me,” Roarke shouted into the phone.

  I shoved on my shoes. “They want me to go the gallery. It’s on—”

  “I know where it is,” he interrupted. He did? “I’ll meet you in the park a block away. Do not go inside the gallery without someone with you. Got it?”

  “Keir said Delara will meet me.” There was a loud roar and then glass shattering.

  “Meet me at the park gates. Now, get out of there. Use your Ink, Rayne. She’ll protect you.”

  My Ink. My Ink no longer rose to my calls. I ran to the window and shoved it open just as I heard footsteps thump down the stairs. “Oh, God. They’re coming.”

  “Rayne. Get out of the house and call your fuckin’ Ink. Anton didn’t kill it. He’d never do that, he was a scientist and that’s the last thing he’d do. It lives.”

  I hung up the phone, slid it in my pocket, and then climbed up and out the window. I turned and shut it before crawling on my hands and knees between the house and the bushes. Then I peered around the corner. There were two SUVs in the driveway and two men standing beside them—men who looked scary and I didn’t recognize.