STEP (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

  She saw no sign of Delara’s jam—aka Waleron—and she wondered if the leader would show up at all. He didn’t appear like the type to socialize, more like watch from the corner of the room with a steady dark gaze. In a way, she hoped he’d make an appearance for Delara’s sake. He’d never be able to take his eyes off her tonight, like many of the men who were vying for her attention.

  It felt good to mingle among normal sane people who knew nothing about Senses or whatever else that walked in the shadows of the human world. It was refreshing to speak her mind and relax in the company of others, although next time she hoped it wouldn’t take her so long to unwind. She had to admit; picking out a fancy dress had been exhilarating, although the shoes were another matter entirely. Her heels were the epitome of tightrope walking.

  Rayne excused herself from speaking with a client of Danielle’s, a posh forty-something woman who’d purchased three painting in the past two months and was urging Danielle to paint more of the burnt orange and azure abstracts.

  She weaved through hordes of people that browsed the paintings, while they drank and talked, making her way to the washroom for a few minutes to sit and relieve her aching feet.

  “Rayne,” a familiar soft voice called from behind her.

  Her grip on the wineglass faltered and his hand reached to wrap around her own before she let it slip from her grasp. His breath whispered across the back of her bare neck as he leaned close to her body. Her shoulders tensed and her breath caught in her throat.

  Why? Why now? She slowly turned and stared into his deep haunted umber eyes. “Roarke,” she breathed.

  His mouth curved upwards in a gentle smile and his eyes softened with tenderness, a look she’d seen a few times in the compound, usually when he was consoling her for whatever abuse her husband inflicted. Often, when she’d watched him unaware, there’d been a sadness mixed with determination and strength in those depths. She’d always wondered where it came from. He was never a prisoner at the compound.

  “What are you doing here?” She looked over her shoulder for any of the Senses. Please, don’t ruin things for me, Roarke.

  Handling Roarke would be like juggling a boiling egg. He could change moods in a millisecond, so she had to guard her words. Creating a scene and ruining Danielle’s evening was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “You look stunning, Rayne.” His eyes traveled the length of her. “Absolutely stunning.” His hand reached forward to rest on her hip. “I’m proud of you Rayne.”

  She hadn’t expected those words leaving his mouth. It was as if he knew how hard it had been to open herself up to Rebecca and face her fears. She realized that Roarke had known she’d been anorexic. She didn’t know when he’d discovered her eating disorder, or if he’d sensed it somehow. He was a GQ, after all.

  But she still didn’t like his hand on her waist, no matter what flattery he proclaimed. She stepped back and his hand dropped, as did his smile. “You can’t be here.” She glanced over her shoulder again; the corridor remained empty.

  “Rayne, will you give me a few minutes? There are things you need to know.”

  She was already shaking her head before he finished his question. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Roarke.”

  “She will come for you, Rayne. The woman from the compound.” Roarke grabbed her hand and began to walk towards the foyer. When she tried to pull back, he gave a sharp scowl and tugged. “I need you to listen to me, but outside. They’re too near. That Tracker friend of yours will soon be picking up my scent.”

  Delara would soon have all the Senses coming after Roarke and, despite hating what he reminded her of, Rayne owed him for all the times he’d helped her.

  As soon as they were outside she stopped and he relented.

  Before he could open his mouth, she blurted, “Why, Roarke? Why? Years. Years you watched my husband abuse me. Years? And you did nothing. Why the urge to protect me now? Why didn’t you get me out of that place? Did you like knowing I couldn’t escape? Or did you enjoy watching me suffer?”

  “No. God, Rayne, please,” Roarke said. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t. I tried to . . . I stayed to protect you. If I left, he would’ve destroyed you. They would’ve. It was the only way I could make certain you were safe.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “The woman. She is dangerous. More so than any other I have known.” He squeezed her hand. “Rayne, I didn’t know who you were until that Senses got you out of there and she told me.”

  “What do you mean by who?”

  “I can’t explain all this right now. The Senses will know I’m here. Come with me,” he urged again. There was desperation in his tone and his eyes were constantly watching for the Senses.

  “I don’t want anything to do with that part of my life, Roarke. I can’t.” She hesitated, watching him carefully. Immediately upon recognizing the pain in his eyes, she tossed the egg into the other hand. “I’m sorry, you did defend me in there, but I . . . Roarke, you have to leave.”

  “No. I can protect you from her. I have a place we can go,” he said. “Come with me, Rayne.” Perfect, meticulous Roarke didn’t like being turned away.

  She lowered her voice even more. “You’re dangerous, Roarke. What you need to survive . . . Roarke, you kill people.” Didn’t he get it? His mere breath stole innocent lives; he killed and had willingly recruited CWOs for her husband. What else he did, she didn’t even want to consider.

  “What I am has nothing to do with who I am,” Roarke replied with an expression of disappointment.

  He was right. She judged him for his capability, exactly what she never wanted others to do to her. “I’m sorry, Roarke.”

  He reached out and gently swept his finger down the side of her check. “If you won’t come with me, then warn the Senses. Tell them that a Lilac is—”

  “Get your fuckin’ hands off her.”

  Rayne gasped at the familiar sound of his voice. She spun around, hand flying to her mouth. “Kilter,” she whispered.

  “Get away from him, Rayne.” Kilter slammed the door of his black Audi, his right hand at his waist, no doubt where he hid a weapon, and strode towards them. “Now, Rayne.”

  Roarke squeezed her hand and leaned close. “Can I trust him to not hurt you?”

  Rayne wondered the same thing. Kilter. God, where have you been? Her eyes closed briefly as if she had to be certain he was real. She opened them again and he was still coming towards them wearing a white T-shirt and faded blue jeans.

  “Rayne?” Roarke growled as Kilter drew near.

  “I . . . he was the one. He got me out of there,” she said. The one who invaded her dreams. The one who made her heart race and her insides sizzle with emotions she couldn’t explain. Kilter, why? Why are you back now? Why did you never come find me?

  Roarke let her hand drop and raised his head to glare at Kilter. “I came to warn her. A Lilac that was—”

  Kilter slammed his fist into Roarke’s face, causing him to stagger back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him, his fury radiating from every pore in his body. “Get in the goddamn car,” Kilter demanded.

  She grabbed his upper arm, attempting to pull him away from Roarke. “No, Kilter. Please.”

  His knife shimmered in the moonlight and she frantically pulled at him. “He helped me. Kilter. Please don’t do this.”

  Roarke stood with his hands up half-mast. “I have no weapon.”

  “If you did, you’d be dead.” Kilter hooked his arm around Rayne’s waist. “Stay the hell away from her.”

  Roarke looked to her and gave a slight nod. “Remember what I told you.” He turned and, without caring that his back was to Kilter, walked off into the darkness.

  “Already goddamn repeating myself. Get in the car, Rayne,” Kilter said without glancing at her, merely watching the darkness where Roarke had vanished.

  Every instinct was itching to take flight, avoid facing him, but she’d learned
to face her battles head-on. Kilter was stronger, faster, and he looked as mad as a pissed-off Rottweiler. She was surprised he wasn’t frothing at the mouth. Though she was certain he was growling by the sound of his graveled voice. Christ, it should be her pissed that he’d never come to find her or even called, no nothing. He’d just disappeared.

  Her feet remained glued to the ground in her way-too-high heels. She pinched the sides of her long emerald silk dress, although it did nothing to alleviate the emotions that threatened to obliterate her sanity.

  He turned to look at her, his expression perilous, like a brick wall closing in on her. So, escape was unviable. Okay, time to put all she’d practiced into action. She tilted her head back to keep contact with his narrowed piercing eyes, straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath right from her solar plexus.

  “Why are you here?” Okay, her voice wasn’t quaking that badly.

  “Why the fuck do you think?” His voice was loud and two valets getting out of a car turned to stare at them. He ignored them. “We need to talk.” He grabbed her arm and tugged.

  She tugged back. “You haven’t changed.” Remember, you’re strong and deserve to be treated with respect. “Still as obtuse as a mule. Make a scene and I’ll have security here in two seconds.”

  “Babe, I don’t give a fuck if you call in the Navy SEALs,” Kilter growled. “You and I have shit to discuss.”

  She yanked out of his grip and the spaghetti strap of her emerald dress slid down her arm. Kilter’s eyes narrowed in a disapproving frown. “I’m not your babe and you don’t have a clue as to how to discuss anything.” Did she really say that? Okay, that felt good. Even though Kilter was the epitome of intimidating, she also knew that he was not Anton or Ben. She shifted on her hurt-like-hell heels, intending to walk around him.

  Kilter hooked his arm around her waist and propelled her up against his chest. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “For the third time. Get in the bloody car.”

  She closed her eyes and fought the urge to pound her fists into his chest and yell and scream, make him explain why it had taken him six months to find her. She avoided the childish reaction because she’d already done that in therapy, except it was a pillow instead of a broad hard chest.

  Where had he been? Any of the Senses could have told him where she was living and how to get hold of her, but obviously, he’d elected to just forget about her for six months.

  “You owe me, damn it,” Kilter fumed.

  She tensed in his arms. Despite her anger and hurt, she did owe him. She owed him her life.

  “Rayne,” Delara called.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Delara stood with Jedrik at the front doors, their eyes on Kilter.

  “She’s coming with me,” Kilter stated.

  “Killer, we should meet at the house to—” Delara began.

  “Fuck off,” Kilter said and pulled Rayne towards the car.

  She had no hope of fighting him in her heels and stumbled behind. He opened the car door. “Get in.” Without looking over his shoulder at Delara and Jedrik he said, “Stay the hell back.”

  “Come on, Killer. What the hell.” Delara ran a hand through her hair.

  “Lovely to have you back, buddy,” Jedrik said then, “Not.”

  “Rayne?” Delara asked.

  Yeah, she wanted answers. Even with the undeniable rage emanating through his body, she knew Kilter wouldn’t harm her. Even when he’d held her captive in the vent, he’d never harmed her. He had come back for her, shared his past with her, protected her. Yes, she needed this and it sure looked like he certainly did.

  “It’s okay,” she said and slid onto the leather seat.

  The instant Kilter closed the door she felt like she was smothering inside an oven. Her body was already in flames from the man. Soon she was going to be trapped inside the car with him.

  Yeah, and watching him walk around the front of the car with that familiar confident stride had her shifting uneasily in her seat. He glided into the car and slammed the door. She jerked at the abrupt sound. He unfortunately noticed.

  “Why are you so fuckin’ jumpy?” Kilter grumbled.

  Because you make me nervous. Not nervous in the sense that he’d hurt her, but because . . . just oversensitive. “Have you no clue as to what you sound like?” She waited for his reaction, the retaliation, the crass rude words.

  “Too goddamn bad. I’ve had a crappy six months and I’m pissed as hell to come back to see you in the arms of a soul-sucking GQ.” He started the car and it purred despite his harsh treatment.

  His oak scent intensified and it caused sweet sensations to infect her body. Not a good thing when she needed her wits about her.

  Without a word, he sped out of the parking lot and took off down the street like a racecar driver. He radiated pent-up anger. Was he angry that she’d never called him? Whatever it was, it seemed like his ego was bruised. And he had one big ego.

  “I wasn’t in his arms, Kilter,” she said quietly.

  “You weren’t damn well struggling to get away from him,” Kilter said, as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

  Thoughts are words. Thoughts are words. Don’t hold back; tell the truth. “He’d never hurt me. And you have no right telling me who I can and can’t be talking to.”

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white. “For Christ’s sake, I saved your life. I have every right. ”

  “Are you going to hold that over my head forever? I remember, okay? It’s like a sticker on my forehead every time I look in the mirror. I’m here because of you—I get it. So here it is—thank you. Now are we through?”

  “Not by a long shot,” he replied. His head turned and he looked her up and down. “No bones. Better.”

  She rolled her eyes at his half attempt at a compliment. “Gee thanks. Always the eloquent one. You on the other hand look like hell.”

  Kilter’s brows hooded his eyes. He slammed on the brakes and she gasped as it skidded to a halt.

  He punched his fist into the dashboard. “Damn it, babe, you could’ve been hurt all these months.” He cursed under his breath and then leaned his head back against the headrest. “I don’t need this.”

  She saw the pain in his face, the dark circles under his eyes. He’d lost a large amount of weight. What had happened to him? Why, if he’d been so concerned, had he waited six months to come find her? He lived with Senses, why hadn’t he asked one of them where she was? It didn’t make sense. “What do you want, Kilter?” she asked.

  The anguish in his eyes was so heart-wrenching that she had to stop herself from touching his arm. She wasn’t ready for the intimacy of what touching could bring. She’d finally managed to get herself back to the living; showing kindness to Kilter was a recipe for being plunked into a pot of boiling water.

  It happened so fast that she had no time to react. He grabbed her hand and pulled her body up against his chest, while his other arm locked around her waist. She gasped, just before he lowered his head and took possession of her lips.

  There was no mercy as his tongue delved into her mouth with an urgency that had her yearning for the touch of his hands, her legs quivering, and her insides melting into sweet sugary water. Her breasts throbbed as heat radiated off his chest.

  Oh God, what was he doing to her? It was as if she already knew what he tasted like, how his hands felt on her skin. Heaven. Scary. Overpowering. Don’t let him smother you. Don’t let him take control.

  He growled deep in his throat, every ounce of his muscular body filled with an intensity that melted each objection that hammered into her mind.

  She let her mouth roam over his, his deep majestic scent filling her. His lips moved to caress her neck, fingers gripping her hair to tilt her head back. Her body was on fire. She’d never known passion or felt such uncontrollable desire. It scared the crap out of her that this man could raise these emotions with a single kiss.

  He nipped her skin along her ju
gular, and her heart skipped a beat. Scary and . . . good. She wanted his hands on her breasts, to feel the weight of his body on top of her.

  He trailed kisses up her neck and claimed her mouth once more. The velvet touch of his tongue dueled her own, swept upwards to taste her eyelids, then down to nibble on her ear. She sucked in her breath as tingles shot through her insides. This was what it was like. This was what Delara was talking about—chemistry.

  He made a deep grunt in his throat before pulling back. She stared dazed for a moment, until he threw the car in gear and took off at full throttle down the road. “Christ, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Yeah, probably not.” Rayne looked out the passenger window and saw a couple walking hand in hand.

  He turned down Queen Street. She didn’t have to tell him where she was staying; it was obvious he already knew. Maybe he had checked up on her after all? She wondered if Delara had kept him informed or had it been Balen? It was as if he had just jumped on the bandwagon.

  He pulled up to Danielle’s gallery and shut off the ignition.

  “Why now, Kilter? Why did you come find me now?” She had to ask or the question would be stampeding her head like a herd of elephants.

  “Rest,” Kilter muttered.

  “You were resting? Like you were too tired and needed some time kind-of-thing?”

  He huffed, leaned his head back on the headrest, hands gripping the steering wheel. “More like living your worst nightmares for six months.” She thought he muttered “What the hell” or something to that effect. “Rest is a coma-like state. A Senses body can shut down when put in this state, no need for food or water, just a place for your body to lie protected from the elements and enemies. You can’t escape it or wake on your own until one of our Taldeburu’s releases you from it. Constant dreams from your hellish past. Screams. Pain. You know, the worst shit you could ever imagine just playing over and over in your head. You’re on the sidelines watching, unable to look away.” He turned to look at her. “Your screams. Gemma’s screams. My screams. Yeah, a real joy ride.”