It had been a long time since she allowed faded memories to take her back to a time when she knew love and joy. And it still hurt like hell.
She placed her feet on the bench, and rested her chin on her knees. This was another prison. Just a decorated one.
Chapter 4
“You have to chill, buddy,” Jedrik said as he shoveled in a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“You’re not my buddy nor is anyone else in this shithole,” Kilter said, pushing his empty plate away, then taking a chug of his orange juice.
Galen refilled his plate with another helping of toast and his favorite morning vegetable—green beans. Kilter’s stomach churned as Galen made a green bean sandwich with a shitload of hot mustard and Tabasco sauce.
Jedrik laughed, shaking his head. “You know Galen, ever thought of going on Fear Factor? Cause, man, you could win it hands down.”
“Ain’t eating no bugs. I hate those things. June bugs, cockroaches.” He shivered. “Could you imagine the sick crunch those suckers would make? Not happening.”
“Hey, boys.” Anstice came into the room and sat next to Jedrik. She grabbed a plate and began filling it with scrambled eggs. “What things?”
“Galen hates eating bugs,” Jedrik announced.
“Really? Any bugs or just certain ones?” Anstice asked.
“Anything with a solid crunch,” Jedrik said. He grabbed a green bean, lifted it to his mouth and crunched. “Mmm, friggin’ good.”
Galen threw a piece of toast at him, but Jedrik was quick with his telekinesis and sent a strip of bacon back at him.
“So what’s the deal with this chick?” Jedrik asked, looking at Kilter. “Never heard of you wanting to protect anyone besides yourself. Why her?”
Kilter didn’t feel the need to justify his actions to any of them. Shit, the truth was he didn’t even know why. He was sure as hell pissed that Genevieve had appeared. He hadn’t seen her in over a hundred years, after the Ulrich thing went down. It brought back emotions he wanted no part of. Emotions that—
“Hey, buddy.” Jedrik interrupted his thoughts. “Be nice, if you catch us up to speed on what’s going down with Rayne. All we know is that her husband owned that compound we found Ryker in and they had a hard-on to incarcerate our asses. Any idea what he was trying to accomplish? The chick tell you anything? Ryker remembers nada, blocked it out, no doubt.” Jedrik shook his head. “Friggin’ guy has completely lost it. Shit, losing Hannah really destroyed him.”
“She knows nothing,” Kilter snapped. He had a feeling that was only partially true, but he had no intentions of letting them hassle her for info. It wasn’t important any longer. He’d looked after the situation. Compound destroyed along with her dickhead husband.
“Yeah, well, she has to know something. Why were CWOs—”
Kilter slammed his fist down on the table. Jedrik grabbed his juice glass before it toppled over. The three gave him a what-the-fuck look. “She won’t be cross-examined like some criminal.”
Jedrik swore under his breath and leaned back in his chair, while Galen stared at his sandwich as if it had grown a movie screen.
Anstice spoke softly. “We would never do that. You’re going to have to learn to trust us, Kilter. We’re on the same team here.”
“I don’t have to do shit.” Kilter pushed his chair back and came to his feet. “Where is she? She has to eat.”
Anstice swallowed a mouthful of eggs while holding up her hand to stop him. “She’s still sleeping.”
Kilter ignored her and headed for the stairs.
“Hey man, don’t scare the shit out of her, okay?” Jedrik said. “Seriously, we want her to recover, not deteriorate. Ah, come on, man, get back here. Frig.”
Kilter strode downstairs to the Tomb, Jedrik’s words echoing through his head. He paused outside the guest room door. He couldn’t help himself. This was who he was.
He opened the door without knocking and came to an abrupt halt. His breath left his lungs as he stared transfixed at the sight before him. The small ground level window was open, and the breeze was rushing through the room in a cold embrace. She stood with her back to him, hair ruffling in the wind, arms wrapped around her chest, and her head tilted up at a slight angle as if she was listening to the sounds that subtly graced the room.
For the first time since he’d met her, she looked at peace. No panic, fear, embarrassment, just herself standing in solitude with the friend of nature. She was an angel, and he was the devil ready to break her from the magnificence.
He was about to turn away and let her be when he remembered the reason he’d come. The woman was a skeleton, something she obviously was having trouble understanding. Well, he could sure as hell help with that.
“Come upstairs and eat,” Kilter said.
Rayne spun around, nearly falling over as she tripped on her shoes, which lay near the window. She put her hand on the wall, to steady herself. A flush rose on her cheeks and her tongue slid over her lower lip with nervousness. Cute. No. No, it wasn’t cute. Nothing about her was cute.
“I’m not really hungry,” she said.
“I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
Her back straightened and her chin jutted forward. Good, she did have a backbone somewhere inside that waif’s body. Her words however, said the opposite.
“Oh,” she said. Her eyes lowered from his, and he wanted to scream at her to fight. Shout. Be defiant. Stop fuckin’ hiding. Yeah, like he was one to talk. He waited until she pulled on her sweatshirt, then walked out ahead of him.
****
Rayne followed Kilter upstairs through the kitchen and living room. The house was a massive stone structure that had fourteen-foot ceilings and antique furniture that must have cost a fortune. She knew Senses were immortal, or so Anton had told her, but she’d have never believed it until she saw this place. It was obvious some of the stuff was centuries old and should be in a museum.
She glanced at Kilter. He sure as hell didn’t look as though he’d lived for centuries, more like thirty years. The day-old stubble on his face made his whole tough-guy persona multiply, and, she had to admit, he was handsome in a rough sort of way. The jagged scar from his right earlobe to the corner of his brow made him appear hazardous and rugged. It was his eyes that captured her interest though, intense rich brown that seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
She jerked when his hand took her elbow and guided her to the dining room. She stopped abruptly when she saw the others sitting at the table. Walking out the front door sounded really appealing right now. The angel lady said she could and no one would stop her. And go where? She had no friends, family, home. No clothes, car, nothing.
“You will not leave,” Kilter said.
Her mouth fell agape as she stared at him. He’d read her mind. He’d managed to get through her blocks.
“Yes, we can read thoughts. Yours have somehow been blocked most of the time,” Kilter replied. His thumb casually stroked the inside of her elbow. “No one will harm you here, babe.”
“Even you?” Had she said that out loud? She lowered her eyes and wrapped her arms around her body. Protect it. Protect yourself.
Kilter raised his hand and cupped her chin, guiding her head back to meet his eyes. “One day you will not fear me.” His hand fell away. “Come. They may look like they bite, but I swear they are harmless kittens.”
Kittens have sharp nails and sharper teeth.
Kilter’s brows raised, and she was surprised to see a look of amusement, but he didn’t say anything. She concentrated and raised the wall around her thoughts again. When she was weak, it was difficult keeping it raised, but it was obvious Kilter was stronger than anyone in the compound.
The two men stood as she approached, and the woman gave her a warm smile, gesturing to the empty chair beside her.
“I’m Anstice.”
Rayne gave a half nod.
“These buffoons are Jedrik.” Anstice nodded to the guy with blond curls
, stark blue eyes and warm smile. “And this is Galen, Keir’s brother. Keir is my husband.”
Galen appeared younger than Jedrik due to his soft features and wide round eyes. The computer beside his plate suggested he was a more intellectual type than the blond playboy. The woman was an exceptional beauty with flaming red hair, still damp from a shower, hanging in soft curls over her shoulders. Her complexion was fair with the odd freckle sprinkled across the bridge of her petite nose. Eyes sparkled, warmth in their deep green depths, and she couldn’t help but be taken in by the woman’s captivating appearance.
Kilter pulled out a chair and sat on her left. He grabbed a plate and proceeded to fill it with food. When he slid the heaping plate down in front of her, she wanted to laugh.
Jedrik did laugh. “He thinks to fatten you up in one sitting.”
Anstice reached over and patted her hand. Rayne flinched and pulled her hand back, placing it in her lap. Logically, she knew it was a kind gesture, yet it had been so long since anyone had shown her warmth that it made her suspicious of ulterior motives. Besides, she disliked anyone touching her.
“Frig, Kilter, even I can’t eat that much,” Jedrik said. He gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to sit at the table until it’s all gone. Some of us are normal.” He shoveled the last of his bacon into his mouth, then spoke with his fork tapping the air. “I want to apologize for not being there to help get you out of that place. Kilter thinks he’s Superman and needs to save the day all by himself.”
“Quill assisted,” Kilter mumbled.
“Only cause you needed an explosive expert,” Jedrik flung back.
“Superman?” Rayne asked, her voice a whisper.
Everyone stopped and stared. Galen had his sandwich halfway to his mouth; Jedrik’s fork paused in midair and Anstice’s brows rose with surprise. Kilter was the only one whose expression stayed the same, although he had placed his orange juice back down on the table without taking a sip.
“Yeah, the man with the blue spandex and red cape,” Jedrik said. “Um, Lois Lane. Lex Luther.” She remained expressionless. “Frig, not much TV in that place, ah?”
Rayne shook her head and lowered her eyes to her plate. Anton refused her the luxury of newspapers or television. He said that it would rot her mind. More like he wanted to be certain he was in charge of what she learned and he’d made certain the teachers he’d hired knew it.
Jedrik’s fork clattered to his plate, and she jolted. “Well then, I guess there’s lots of catching up to do. We have thousands of movies downstairs. A huge big screen with surround sound. Anstice will show you if you like.”
“I’ll do it,” Kilter said, and by his tone it wasn’t a suggestion.
Galen snorted.
“We want you to feel comfortable,” Anstice said. Rayne liked her voice; it was soothing and filled with warmth. “If Kilter makes you uneasy by his . . . overprotectiveness, please let one of us know.”
Kilter’s fork hit his plate with a clang, but he didn’t say anything.
He’d saved her from hell. He made her nervous with his abrupt words and his forceful nature, but he was honest—maybe too much—real and direct. It was as if he saw inside her, paid attention to what she needed even if she didn’t know what that was. It was very different from trusting him, but she had no one except him. If she had to trust one person, it would be Kilter.
“Eat,” Kilter said.
Okay, she detested that part. She imagined picking up her plate and dumping it in his lap. Now that might put a smile on her face.
Everyone thought it was so easy to eat. Bite, crunch, chew, swallow. Putting food in her mouth was like handing over the keys to her soul. It was easier to suffer. She wanted to suffer. It didn’t hurt anyone but herself, and it gave her control, something she’d never had in her life. The only time she lost that control was when Anton drugged and forced food in her. That was when despair was the greatest. Total loss of her life.
She shuffled the food around on her plate. One mouthful and she knew the emotions that would careen through her brain. Emotions she tried to hide.
Kilter swore under his breath and got up from the table, kicking his chair across the room in the process. He left without a word. Had he heard her thoughts?
Rayne suddenly felt cold and alone. A part of her wanted to go rushing after him. And do what? Lie and tell him she’d eat? She put a hand on her stomach, making certain it was still flat. It had been too long. She was caught in this web of mind play that she knew was wrong, but couldn’t seem to help herself. She knew she barely ate, but when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see thin. She just didn’t.
She picked up her fork.
“If you choose not to eat, that’s your choice, Rayne,” Anstice said. She gave her a smile and tilted her head, a long lock of red hair fell against her right cheek. “But I ask that you think about trying to live now that you’re free.”
Free? Was she though? She still felt trapped within her body. Afraid of shadows, of what she saw when she looked in the mirror.
Jedrik cleared his throat and gave Galen a punch in the shoulder. Suddenly, they both excused themselves from the table and left the room.
“What you’ve suffered,” Anstice began, “it is beyond my comprehension. I can’t pretend to know what it was like. What I do know is that we can help you now that you are free. If you’re willing to let us try.”
Rayne placed her fork back on her plate. When she looked up and met Anstice’s eyes, she saw something unique and barely discernable. Compassion.
Anstice reached over and placed her hand on hers again. This time she let her. “You know that we’re Senses, and I’m guessing you’re aware that we all have gifts.”
Rayne nodded.
Anstice continued, “My strength lies with healing. It is a gift and sometimes . . . a detriment. The pain and hurt I feel from others when they’re hurt is overwhelming. Yours—Rayne, I feel your pain.” Rayne slid her hand back, her body tensing. “Your body is hurting. It is slowly dying. I know you may not care right now, but when time passes, you may learn to live and be happy again.”
Rayne nodded, holding back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of this woman who seemed to be looking into her soul, reading the pain that was eating away at her insides. She knew she had a problem. She knew she was screwed up and self-destructing. What she didn’t know was if she wanted to get better.
“Come,” Anstice urged. “I will show you our movie selection.”
****
Organized was Anstice’s middle name. She had the movies alphabetized in genre, and each had a cue card that held a rating system.
Anstice laughed, holding out a card to a movie called Mr. and Mrs. Smith. “Look at this.” She pointed to Jedrik’s comment and rating. “This is so him. Triple ten and ‘She can shoot me anytime.’ Such a guy.”
Rayne saw Hannah’s name written down with a ten rating and the comment, ‘Now he is one hot guy. There was a bold line through the word ‘he’ and the name ‘Ryker’ replaced it.
“Hannah . . .” Rayne whispered. That name. Ryker’s woman. Her husband’s men had killed her. She could still hear Ryker’s rage and anguish as Hannah’s name tore from his lungs in a haunting cry. Anton had strapped him to a cold steel table and then forced her to watch as they stuck needles in his arms to give him drugs, take blood and force him to submit.
“Yeah, Hannah stayed with us a while back,” Anstice said.
Rayne remembered his rage emanating from every pore, the dark vengeance in his piercing eyes and the insanity in his screams. She’d stood in the far corner of the room, her trembling hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with horror. When his eyes locked on her, he became a crazed rabid animal.
She escaped the room despite her husband’s shouts at her to stay. She hid in the sub-basement for hours. That was where Roarke found her. He sat with her, head on his shoulder while he gently stroked her hair. He told her he had upped the dosage of drugs to c
alm Ryker as soon as Anton had left the room.
Roarke carried her to her room and put her in bed. He’d kissed her temple, smoothed back her hair and said two words, “I’m sorry.”
“Hannah was the love of Ryker’s life. The other half of his soul.” Anstice slid the card back in place. “They lived with Kilter, Sandor and Derek in Newfoundland.” Anstice paused to look at her before continuing. “Your husband’s men killed Derek, Sandor and Hannah. Ryker tried to . . . well, he couldn’t save her. Hannah was an angel with one hell of a kick-ass punch.” Anstice pulled out a few movies and piled them on the floor. “Ryker loved her more than anything. Now . . . anger eats away at him. I don’t know if he’ll ever recover.” She put her hand on Rayne’s arm. “I know it must be uncomfortable for you, with him being here, but he doesn’t hold you responsible for—”
“He’s here?” Rayne’s fear pulsated through her body like a rocket blasting off. She scuttled backwards until the backs of her knees hit the couch. Anstice reached forward to offer assistance. “Don’t.” Rayne held up her hand.
He was in this house, maybe in the next room. Emotions were raw and debilitating as the memory flashed forward. The humiliation, the pain, the horror of him being used like an animal. Her voice quivering as she pretended to be the love of his life. His anguished screams.
She put her hand over her mouth as her stomach curdled. Anstice moved to assist her again, but the thought of anyone’s hands on her skin would be the end of her will to hold what little was in her stomach.
She stumbled out of the room. Air. She needed fresh air, the wind, the sky.
“Rayne?” Anstice called.
She lost her balance. Her head hit a picture frame on the wall, and it crashed to the floor. It was as if someone had a grip on her lungs and was slowly clenching them in their hands until she had no breath left. Tingling heightened in her limbs, threatening to numb out her legs and arms, making her body a useless rag doll.
STEP (The Senses) Page 5