Credo (Scars of the Wraiths Book 3)

by Nashoda Rose

  “Delara?”

  Waleron’s voice tap-danced across my mind and I felt his warmth encase my body, as if he held me in his arms. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself.

  We were like a broken jigsaw puzzle. Our pieces kept being shoved together—the wrong way. We were disjointed. But were we disjointed because we fought who we were and what we had become?

  If we stopped fighting, maybe our pieces would fit back together. No lies. No games. Just who we were now, with nothing but the truth.

  I opened my mind and let my shields crumble. All of them.

  He’d see me. Naked. Raw.

  No more hiding. No more pretending.

  I looked at the fresh cut on my arm and ran a finger along the length of it.

  All of me.

  I let him into the tainted dark crevices of my mind. Where the cutting lived. The debilitating love I had for Waleron. And the terror I had for Tarek in the past and what he’d do to both of us now.

  “Jesus, maitagarri.” Waleron’s words were barely a whisper across my mind, a light touch of his fingers caressing his skin. “God, baby. I didn’t know.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “This is all of me. Scared. Broken. In love. Hurting.”

  “Tell me he didn’t—” I heard the anguish in his ragged tone.

  “No.” I’d die before I let him rape me.

  His roar echoed in my head and my insides fragmented at the sound and I knew he’d heard my thought.

  “Waleron. We’re going to get out of here.” I walked around the room and lightly tapped on the walls, searching for any hollowness. “If I can reach you, can you open the door again?”

  “No. He keeps me drugged so I’m unable to use my abilities. Listen to me, Delara, if you can get out of here then—”

  “No. I won’t leave you.”

  “Yes. You will. I survived Jasmine, and I will survive him.”

  “No. I won’t.” I raised my voice. “Don’t you dare ask that of me.”

  He inhaled a deep haggard breath, as if it were painful for him to breathe. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “We will find a way out together.”

  That’s it? Okay? He was agreeing with me?

  “Yes, I’m agreeing with you.”

  Letting him into my thoughts freely was an odd feeling. No lies. No hiding. It was like we used to be before Jasmine. Before all the pain and hurt between us.

  “You will see every part of me. And have every part of me. I swear to you, maitagarri.”

  Tears pooled and my chest swelled. It made me stronger. He made me stronger. We were strong together. It was all I’d ever wanted. To finally see him for whom he’d become and love him just the same.

  But he’d never trusted me to.

  “I can kill him.”

  He was silent.

  “It’s that rope I can’t get around, but he hasn’t brought it here. He trusts that I’ll behave.” I heard the denial in his head, the fear for my life, but there was also acceptance of who I was—a Scar.

  This was what I’d trained for. What he’d trained me for. Take all emotion out of it, and I could defeat Tarek.

  “He brings a knife with him. He carries another on his belt and the tranquilizer gun.”

  “Delara?” His voice was quiet and calm. Too calm.

  “Yes?”

  “When we get out of here…. Baby, don’t give up on me, no matter what you see.”

  “Oh God, Waleron—”

  I stiffened as footsteps strode down the hall toward my room.

  “It’s him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Love you, baby.”

  I closed my mind to Waleron as the door swung open.

  Tarek walked in and locked the door then moved to the center of the room. “Come here and kneel.”

  I approached Tarek and knelt on the floor, keeping my head bowed and submissive, but there was nothing in me that submitted. I had to act and it needed to be now.

  I carefully scanned his body for weapons.

  There was a slight bulge on the outer side of his boot on the left—a knife. The tranquilizer gun sat on his right hip with a blade next to it, and he held my knife in his hand.

  He’d have throwing stars on him somewhere, but they were small and flat and I’d never be able to see where he’d put them, but he was right-handed so they’d be on his right side.

  “That’s a good girl.” He stroked my hair then fisted it in his hand cruelly and jerked me to my feet, shoving me backward. “Lie on the bed. Hands above your head.”

  Shit. If he tied me up I’d have no chance.

  I walked slowly to the bed and knelt on it. Could I take him with his weight on top of me? Waleron had taught me how to dislodge someone who had me pinned, but I was weak from the last injection of the drug.

  I lied on my back and raised my hands above my head, linking them together.

  “Waleron is dangerous to us.” The mattress sagged as he crawled onto the bed and straddled me. “I want us to be happy here. Like we used to be.”

  Like he used to be. He wanted a slave, and I’d never be his slave again. Never.

  He leaned over me and caressed my cheek.

  I waited until he lowered a bit farther and then reacted, slamming the heel of my hand into his throat. He choked, falling to the side of me, holding his neck while he gasped for air. I dove for the knife still clutched in his hand.

  “Bitch!” he screamed.

  His arm came up and I saw it coming but was too late to move as his fist hit me in the side of the head. I fell back onto the bed.

  He scrambled to his knees at the same time as me, but now he held the tranquilizer gun in one hand and the knife in the other.

  He sneered. “Waleron is going to suffer more pain than you can imagine for this.”

  I blocked out his words. They had power and I couldn’t let him use them against me.

  Never let words make you react. You win a fight without emotions.

  Inhaling three deep breaths, I waited for that subtle flicker in his eyes. As soon as I saw it, I dove to the right and the dart embedded into the wall behind my head.

  I tackled him and the momentum sent us crashing to the floor. We rolled several times, my hands trying to peel his fingers away from the knife still in his grasp.

  I let go and jammed the heel of my hand up into his nose, hearing the distinct crack.

  “Fuckin’ whore,” he cried, then plunged the knife into my side.

  My back arched in agony and I fell onto my back, hands over the wound.

  Tarek held his nose in one hand and the knife with the other as he climbed to his feet.

  This was my last chance. He’d never trust me again, and he’d torture Waleron for my disobedience.

  I leapt at him, grabbing his pants and pulling on his right pocket, hearing it rip.

  Metal clanged to the floor. A throwing star.

  Both of us reached for it at the same time, but I was already on the floor and closer than he was. My hand curled around the metal, a pointed blade sticking out between my fingers.

  I swung for his throat.

  The sharp point sliced across his neck and blood spurted.

  He stood frozen, mouth agape, hand covering the wound at his throat. Red seeped between his fingers and dripped down his chest, soaking his shirt.

  Tarek staggered backward. “Loved… you,” he croaked. His legs buckled and he crashed to the floor, blood pooling around him. “You… will never… leave… here.”

  I staggered to my feet and walked over to him then smiled as his eyes met mine. “I will. And so will Waleron, and you’ll be remembered as a pathetic Scar.” I kicked him in the jaw. “This should’ve been your fate twenty years ago, asshole.”

  His body went limp, eyes dead.

  I retrieved my knife off the floor and then cut a piece of the bedsheet and tied it around my waist to apply pressure to the stab wound.

  But there was too much b
lood and it leaked through the bandage. Shit. I had to get to Waleron before I passed out, or worse—died.

  I stumbled to the door and pulled. Locked. Fuck. I leaned my forehead onto the door as I waited until my vision cleared, then used the wall for support as I made my way back to Tarek’s body. Collapsing to my knees, I sifted through his pockets until I found his keys, then climbed to my feet again.

  My vison doubled and my body swayed as I went back to the door. It took me several tries to fit the right key in the lock, but when it opened all I could think about was getting to Waleron.

  Using my telepathy would drain me; I needed every ounce of strength to make it to him. I weaved through the house to the stairs then gripped the handrail with both hands and made my way down the stairs.

  “Delara, I hear your breathing. You’re close. What’s wrong?” I couldn’t answer him without using too much strength. “Talk to me, baby.”

  I fell to my knees on the last few steps and grunted as my wound split farther. I glanced down at it. The white sheet was soaked, blood dripping onto my jeans.

  “Delara!”

  He was close. I was almost there. I climbed to my feet using the wall, but my legs gave out. Shit.

  Cold blanketed my body as I dragged myself down the hallway toward the door.

  “Delara, damn it!” Chains rattled. “Baby. Fuck.”

  I collapsed in front of the basement door, cheek resting on the dirt floor. One more minute. One more minute.

  Raising my arms, I grabbed the lever with both hands and yanked down.

  The door clicked, but didn’t open.

  Oh God. No.

  Keys. Tarek’s keys. I pulled them from my pocket and on my knees, I inserted each one into the lock until finally one slid into the keyhole and the door swung open.

  I fell forward, landing on my stomach.

  “Fuck! Maitagarri. Jesus, baby.”

  I closed my eyes as my vision blurred, then shook my head and lifted myself up.

  Waleron.

  He stood against the stone wall, manacles on his wrists and ankles, chains wrapped around his arms as if he’d been trying to break their hold in the cement wall.

  Sweat trickled down his naked chest and blood pooled at his feet, and yet…. God, he was the most spectacular vision I’d ever seen.

  I choked back a sob. The things I should’ve said to him.

  Our love torn apart repeatedly, and yet we’d continuously crashed together as if held by an elastic band.

  I loved him, but my love for him wasn’t enough. It never had been.

  He growled and I knew he’d read my thoughts.

  “We can fix us. It is enough, baby. Give me a chance to fix us.” His voice was ragged and raw. “Delara, a little farther, okay? You can do this. I need you to do this.” It felt good—the cold. Soothing. “Damn it, maitagarri, I need you to live.” His voice hardened. “Get up, baby. The button beside the lever. Push it. Let me help you.”

  My limbs refused to cooperate. I tried several times to get up, but my body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. I heard Waleron speaking, but his words were muffled and indecipherable.

  I crawled inch by inch toward Waleron and the lever that would release him. Every movement was agony and each breath a struggle. The tips of my fingers touched the wall and I wanted to cry with relief.

  With my palms flat on the surface, I pulled myself far enough to reach the red button. I pressed the heel of my hand into it, then darkness claimed me.

  THE CHAINS RELEASED AND I collapsed to the floor, groaning in agony as my limbs and wounds broke open. But they were nothing to the agony of seeing Delara on the floor. I ran to her and fell to floor, picking her up in my arms, placing a kiss on her cold, lifeless lips.

  “Delara, baby.”

  Her heartbeat was slow and faint and her skin cold. So fuckin’ cold.

  Fuck. No.

  Fear sat like a lead weight around my neck, pulling me under. Drowning.

  My emotions had been smothered by the pills, but when it came to this woman nothing could take away or hide what I felt for her, because she was part of me.

  “Baby.” I stroked the side of her face. A drop of blood fell from my raw wrist and landed on her neck. I wiped it away with the pad of my thumb and leaned over, kissing the spot.

  “Noooo!” I stared up at the ceiling as I roared.

  Gathering her in my arms, I stood, cradling her to my chest.

  I staggered a couple steps then managed to gain my balance as I carried her out of the prison. I had no idea where we were or how far I had to go, but I had to get her out of there. She’d not die in this fuckin’ place.

  After two sets of stairs, I found the front door and carried her outside into the warm, humid air. Lying her on a patch of grass under a tree, I ran back inside and searched the house for anything I could use to contact someone. I saw Tarek’s body lying on the floor in his own blood.

  I glared at the body, wishing the bastard would open his eyes so I could kill him again for what he’d done to Delara twenty years ago and now. Jesus, we’d repeated our past, except this time I had no Healer and Tarek was dead.

  “Danni. Jesus, we need a Healer. Danni.”

  I tore the sheet from the bed and ripped strips off it as I ran back outside and fell to my knees beside Delara. “Baby, hold on for me.” “Danni.”

  Taking the strips, I wrapped them around her waist, covering the wound and slowing the blood, but it wasn’t enough. Red slowly soaked the bandage again.

  My only chance was to keep her alive until the drugs wore off and I was able to Trace her to the Realm.

  “Delara. Don’t you fuckin’ die on me.” Twenty years, I’d fought to stay away from her. For twenty years I’d fought letting her in and seeing who I’d become. Twenty years, I’d lived in numbness.

  For what? To protect her from me? To protect my Taldeburu?

  My Ink slowly woke and slithered across my skin, but it was slow and steady. Different. There was no burning or anger in its movements. Instead, like a cool caress it slid down my arm to the back of my hand that cupped Delara’s head. It stayed there as I held her, as if it too wanted to be close to her.

  My head snapped up at the low buzzing sound in the distance.

  A motor. A boat.

  Jesus. A boat.

  I wasn’t sure if it was Tarek’s followers or mine until the engine cut and I saw Keir standing on the bow.

  “Waleron!” he shouted.

  Keir, Jedrik, Ryker, Hack, Xamien, and Anstice ran down the beach toward us.

  “Maitagarri,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her neck. “Hope, baby. Hope is here.”

  Polluted. That’s what our love was now. Dirty and covered with a film of hatred.

  I’d never go back. There was too much hurt inside me. Anger at myself. At Abby for leaving me again.

  I’d grieved her death for eight fuckin’ months, sanity on a short, fragile leash as I fought to live a life without her.

  And all that fuckin’ time she was alive.

  And then the elation, the hope.

  The moment I’d seen her, it was salvation. Beauty. And fuck, it was Abby in my arms again. I didn’t give a shit if she drank blood or hissed or had fuckin’ fangs. It wasn’t what made up who she was.

  But she didn’t see that. There was so much hate for who she’d become that she couldn’t see past it.

  How had I been so wrong about her? I’d trusted her when I removed the spell from the room.

  Christ, I’d asked her to change me. To give me her blood and I’d become what I’d hunted, a vampire. Anything to keep her.

  But she’d lied.

  The bitch had lied as she kissed me, then her fangs punctured my neck and she drank my blood. And I let her. Giving her the strength she needed.

  It had been erotic and painful as the rush of blood left me. But she didn’t stop. And when I’d realized what she was doing, it had been too late. I was too weak to do anything except wa
tch her leave me.

  She’d betrayed me.

  Again.

  I smashed my fist into the gas tank of the Ducati. “Bitch.”

  I’d never go back to the Talde. Never let myself feel again. Never trust a bitch again. I knew better. I fuckin’ knew better, and yet I fell for the bitch.

  Numbness seeped into my veins. A shield encased my heart. She’d done that.

  Jasper walked across the parking lot with two coffees in hand. He wore a cocky, knowing grin on his face. I’d realized pretty quick that Jasper was arrogant, deadly, and handled his bike like it was part of him.

  “Never take it out on the bike, buddy.” Jasper passed me a coffee, then casually threw a leg over his bike. “You going after her?”

  “Nope.”

  Jasper nodded, his lips pursed as if thinking. He took a sip of the hot liquid. “Going back home anytime soon?”

  “Nope.”

  The corner of Jasper’s lip curved up. “Feel like kicking some ass? I could use a hand. Money is kick-ass. Women are even better.”

  Assassin? Rogue Scar? Always on the move. Never a place to call home. Everyone was your enemy. Killing for money, and it didn’t matter what they were. Humans. CWOs, vampires. Everyone was fair game for an assassin. Highest bidder won.

  No laws. No rules.

  “Sounds fuckin’ perfect,” I said.

  24 hours later

  THERE WAS UNCERTAINTY BETWEEN US as he opened the door to his house. Neither of us knew where we stood with one another. There’d been so much pain and hurt, denial, and even hatred. It still lay buried inside both of us and erasing it was impossible. All we could do was write over it and make new memories.

  After Anstice healed me and Waleron on the island, we traveled back to Toronto with everyone else and Waleron kept close to me, almost as if he was afraid I’d disappear again.

  We’d discovered that they were able to find us through what I’d told Xamien in Dreamstepping—an island, and thunder. Since it had been night, they knew it had to be approximately in the same time zone as Toronto, which narrowed the locations. Then they tracked the storms and when the thunder had sounded near small islands.

  Hack found a small island that had one house and had been bought a few years ago under the name Z. Oath.