STEP (The Senses)
Page 19
She tried to get to her feet, but her thigh was on fire and she could see blood seeping through her gown. He’d shot her.
She turned.
He was running towards her, eyes flashing a red hue.
She groaned as she tried to use her leg. Grinding her teeth, she managed to stagger a few feet before she collapsed again.
Please no.
Her mind was in frenzy, past horrors flashing before her eyes—the isolation, the fear to sleep, to wake. She couldn’t live like that again.
Rise, my precious Serafina. Breathe. Surface and live again.
Running footsteps approached and she tried once more to call to her Scar. Rise, Serafina. Protect me.
Nothing.
She heard his heavy breathing almost upon her then arms wrapped around her waist. She went crazy. “No,” she screamed kicking and flailing her arms. Tears slid down her cheeks and she fought with wild ferocity. She wasn’t going back. Don’t take me back.
Chapter 17
“Babe, babe, it’s me. Shh. It’s all right. I have you.” Kilter’s voice finally sank into her panicked mind and she stopped struggling.
“Kilter?” He was here? She spun around in his arms and locked him in an embrace, her cheek pressed into his chest. She suddenly remembered the gun. “He has a gun. We have to—”
“He’s gone, baby.” He smoothed back her hair. “He took off when he saw my car come around the corner. I swear he can’t hurt you.”
This was a side of Kilter hiding behind the rude and abrupt comments. Soft caresses trickled down her back, whispers of soothing murmurs as he held her in his protective embrace.
“You came back,” she whispered.
“Told you, just needed time too cool off.”
She gave a pained smile. “Ten minutes?”
“Don’t need much,” he replied. “Come on, babe. We have to get you to Anstice.” He swung her up into his arms and she curled into his shielding warmth. “You have to keep pressure on your leg while I drive. It’ll hurt like hell, but we have to stop the bleeding. Can you do that?”
She looked down at the wound in her leg, but he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to meet his glaring eyes. “I need an answer. Can you do that?” He enunciated every word.
Now that was more like the Kilter she knew. She actually smiled, then winced as he placed her in his car. He leaned over to do up her seat belt, then pressed her hands down hard on her wound. “I said pressure, damn it.” He yanked off his belt and looped it twice around her upper thigh and pulled tight, buckling it. “That should help.”
It hurt like hell but the blood flow eased, although it still seeped through her fingers. How much blood could you lose before you passed out? Died?
Kilter jumped in the car. He glanced over at her and his eyes went to her leg. He gave an approving nod then took off like a madman. The streetlights blurred into one, and car horns blared as Kilter weaved in and out, ignoring red lights and stop signs. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Tired. She felt cold and tired. She’d rest for a while.
“Damn it, woman.” Kilter’s hand slammed down on her thigh, making the car swerve. “Rayne!”
She gasped in pain and tried to shove his hand away, but he ignored her feeble attempts. “Kilter?” He looked so . . . so handsome. And . . . worried. He really looked worried. Did that mean she was going to die? She would’ve liked to have at least tasted his lips once more. See those searing eyes fill with desire for her. Once, just for her.
So cold.
She slipped into a black void of coldness.
“Almost there, baby. Open your eyes for me.” Kilter was having difficulty keeping pressure on her leg and driving as they careened in and out of traffic. “Christ.”
How much blood had she lost? Fuck, he had no clue. He skidded around the corner onto the upscale Post Street.
“Anstice, incoming. Rayne’s been shot in the upper right thigh. Could have nicked the femoral artery. It’s bleeding like hell and she’s unconscious, damn it.”
“TOA?” she asked.
“Two minutes.”
Kilter slammed on the brakes at the gate, which was already opening. He sped up the driveway, vaulted out of the car and ran around the other side just as Keir came down the steps.
“What happened?” Keir asked.
Kilter undid the seatbelt and swung Rayne up into his arms. Her head flopped back on his shoulder and his heart rate doubled. “Where’s Anstice?” Kilter demanded without answering Keir’s question.
“The Tomb, second door on the left,” Keir said as he ran ahead. “Timeline?”
“Fuck, ten minutes, maybe. She just passed out.” Kilter followed Keir into the basement and almost bowled him over trying to get there faster.
Anstice was already in the room with the covers on the bed pulled back and sandalwood incense burning. Kilter gently placed Rayne in the center of the bed, then leaned over her and softly caressed her cheek. He noticed his hand trembling and pulled back.
Anstice began cutting away Rayne’s blood-soaked emerald gown.
He held his breath as she peeled back the material. “Well?” he asked. Healers were powerful and Anstice was one of the best, but still his heart was beating so goddamn fast, he swore it was going to leap through his rib cage. “Fuck, woman. How does it look?”
Anstice shot him an irritated glare and Keir stepped forward grabbing his forearm. “Kilter, Anstice needs to concentrate. Best you wait outside.”
“Hell no.” Kilter shoved Keir in the chest and moved closer to the bed. “I’m not leaving, so bloody well back off.”
Anstice sighed and shook her head at Keir, who looked fuming mad and ready to haul his ass out the door with one word from his wife. Keir kicking his ass would have to wait. Right now, Rayne needed healing.
Anstice was the only Healer in Canada and one of only a handful scattered across the world. Not only did they have to be born with the ability, they also had to be female. Zurina was also a Healer, however Anstice’s bloodlines were stronger as her mother Lillian had been the most powerful Healer known to the Senses. Unlike Zurina, who could only heal Senses and possibly witches, as they were descendents of one another, Anstice could heal any living being—animals, humans, Senses, CWOs, and unfortunately, vampires, hence Keir’s overprotectiveness.
Anstice laid her hands over the wound and closed her eyes. A soft red glow began to emanate from the tips of her fingers, then grew stronger as they pulsated through her hands, giving the surface of her skin a translucent pink-orange hue. At first, she remained passive to the experience, her body soaking in the warmth as if she were basking in the sun on a hot midsummer day.
It took several minutes before Anstice’s face changed drastically. Her nose scrunched and her cheeks lost the blushed hue, fading to alabaster. Her hands remained hovering over Rayne’s thigh, but her arms and spine were stiff as if she’d jump away given the chance.
Her sharp intake of breath and her right leg jerking were enough to make Kilter wince. He knew Anstice was experiencing the gunshot wound. It was called the Healer’s curse—heal them, but in return feel their pain, their emotions and picture exactly what they went through.
He desperately wanted to touch Rayne, but knew if he did, he’d interrupt the healing, and Keir would be throwing him from the room on his ass. Not to mention how furious Anstice would be. He’d seen her massive slobbering dog waiting on the other side of the door and had no need to have its disgusting teeth sink into his leg. He doubted the Newfoundland had it in him, but hurting any animal even in self-defense was against his morals.
The scent of sandalwood grew stronger as Anstice’s heat built into a fierce red glow. She was rocking back and forth, eyes closed and her face focused with concentration
After ten minutes, Anstice opened her eyes. Keir came to her side and helped her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her brow with a gentleness one rarely saw from Keir except when he was with Ansti
ce.
“Let her sleep. She’s in shock,” Anstice said in a quivering voice. It took a lot out of a Healer to use their capability, and Anstice would be weak for a few hours. When the wounds were extensive, like her brother Balen’s had been, the vulnerability and weakness could last days.
Kilter nodded. He had no intention of leaving Rayne; he’d already been away for far too long. He glanced at Anstice walking to the door. He felt awkward all of a sudden. How did he say thank you? Just say the words, you idiot. But the words failed to pass his lips.
Anstice paused at the door. “She really cares for you, Kilter.”
The door shut behind them.
****
Rayne opened her eyes and jolted upright. Her vision took a few seconds to focus. Confusion settled on her like a windmill as she desperately tried to recall where she was and who had brought her here. She clutched the forest green sheet to her chest, hands curled into fists.
His scent wafted across her senses and it all came flooding back. Kilter. The bullet. The vampire. The blood.
“Kilter?” she whispered. Please let him be okay.
“About time you woke up.”
A sharp glance to her right and there he was—tall, lithe, shadowed as he stood in the corner of the room. He leaned up against the wall, ankles crossed to match his arms. Casual. Confident as usual. Although his hair was in disarray, as if he’d been running his hands through it repetitively.
“How long have I slept?”
“Three hours too long,” he replied. He straightened and advanced towards her like a male panther approaching its mate. “Your leg is completely healed.”
Her eyes widened, mouth falling agape. “But I was shot.” She expected her thigh to be on fire, but when she tested her leg—nothing. She threw the sheet aside, forgetting about the possibility of being nude and stared down at her healed leg. She gasped, running her hands over where the wound would’ve been.
“Anstice,” he said. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his eyes offhandedly drifting over her naked legs.
Rayne quickly yanked the sheet up. “She healed me? From a bullet wound?” Bruises were one thing, but this was another. “Can she really do that?” She tested her leg again. No pain. Bruising. Stiffness. Apparently, she could.
“Yes.” He stood looking down at her, expression grim, eyes intense and unwavering. If he had been any other person, she would’ve run for her life.
But it was Kilter. The man she couldn’t forget. Who was direct and honest with her. The one thing she’d never had in her life.
“Why did you come back to the gallery?” She noticed the flicker of uneasiness in his eyes. It came and went like a bolt of lightning.
“I screwed up. Being sent to Rest . . .” He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair and shifted his body weight. “Babe, I should’ve been there.” His voice softened, but his glower deepened. “I care . . . damn it, woman, I just can’t have anything happen to you.”
Compliments were definitely not his thing. “I specifically recall you saying to never trust a word you say,” she said with a hint of a smile.
He grunted. “Yeah. So I did.” He grabbed a pillow from the chair next to the nightstand. “Forward,” he ordered, putting his hand on her shoulder. He placed the pillow behind her back and picked up a bowl resting on the nightstand. He took a spoonful of whatever was inside and brought it towards her mouth.
She balked. “I can feed myself,” she said, backing away.
“Eat.” Kilter waited steadfast for her to open her mouth.
“What is it?”
“Open,” he demanded. “Now.”
Obstinate as usual. Nice to see he hadn’t changed in six months. She opened her mouth and he shoveled the liquid broth into her mouth. Lukewarm chicken broth. Her least favorite. “You could’ve died. I mean, that guy was a vampire and had a gun.”
“Is that a hint of concern for me? I’m flattered.” He quirked the corners of his lip upwards a minute amount. “And no, I won’t die. Open.” When she didn’t immediately, his brows lowered and his lips set in a thin line.
She grudgingly took another mouthful and a drop of soup spilled over her lower lip. Kilter scowled, and with the tip of his finger wiped it away. Her heart rate quadrupled and her eyes widened at the intimate touch. God, what this man could do to her.
She looked away from him, afraid he’d notice her desire. His fingers gripped her chin and she sucked in her breath as he forced her to meet his eyes. “Open, Rayne,” he said.
“It’s cold,” she protested. And gross. And I can’t eat in front of you. I’m too nervous.
“Healing takes from the body. You need nutrients,” Kilter said, his fingers tightening on her chin. “Eat,” he ordered.
When she swallowed, he released her chin but refused to stop shoveling the soup into her mouth. She put up with several more then pushed the last one away with her hand. “Enough. I hate chicken soup,” she said.
Kilter set the spoon down in the bowl with a clank. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you say so? Damn it, Rayne, I could have made you something else.”
“You made it?”
He turned away, the muscles in his back tense as he grabbed the bowl. “Will you eat potato leek?”
She reached out, her hand grazing across his chest. “Kilter, I don’t want to eat anymore.” When he didn’t move she added, “Thank you. For the soup. It was thoughtful.”
He grunted.
“Kilter?”
He set the bowl back down. He turned. Her mouth parted and her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the unmistakable desire in his eyes.
“Christ.” He grabbed her around the neck and pulled her towards him. The sheet fell from her grasp forgotten as his lips took hers for his own. Tantalizing. Sweet. His scent making her insides melt.
His hand on the back of her neck, fingers entangled in her hair as he swept his tongue inside her mouth. Dancing. Playful and yet forceful.
The mattress sagged under his weight as he sat, lips still roaming over her own, taking, needing, and causing unexplained emotions to erupt in her body. Her hands crept between them and held his shoulders, ready to push him away or bring him closer.
“Rayne.” His voice was ragged.
She was breathing hard, her lips tingling from his assault. “I . . . I don’t . . . know who you are right now.”
“You do, baby. It’s just a different side,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “An older one.”
What did he mean by that? “I like you the other way.” Damn right she did. She could easily keep her distance from him when he didn’t have this intense heat radiating from his eyes.
“Liar,” he said as he leaned over her, his breath wafting across her face. His grip in her hair tightened as if he was afraid she’d escape.
His finger traced the line of her right brow then down the bridge of her nose, the touch tantalizing her skin like the tip of a feather. Mesmerizing. No man had ever touched her so . . . erotically.
His opposite hand hovered over her chest then slowly trailed down the sheet over her body to her thigh. She gasped and tried to back away, but he was quick. His hand cupped her chin and he forced her eyes to remain locked with his.
“Stay still,” he demanded. His hand caressed the inside of her thigh, fingers radiating heat as he stroked, kneaded, then moved further upwards to . . .
He leaned closer until his lips were inches from her ear. “Breathe, baby. You’re not breathing.”
She inhaled unsteadily as his hand stopped between her legs, a flickered touch with the back of his hand. Then another. So gentle it was barely a caress and yet . . . her back arched and her eyes closed. This was what sex was about, heat, pleasure, the feeling as if you were going to die if he didn’t grab you and kiss you.
He cupped her and her eyes flew open, staring into his eyes swimming with intense fervor.
It was exciting. Suffocating. Drowning. Overwhelming. Too overwhelming. It was too soon
. “Kilter. I . . . can’t.” She scrambled sideways and pushed away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She tugged the sheet up to her chin and shuffled further away. His magnetic scent was collapsing her barrier second by second. “I need time. I just need some time.” She felt his body shift off the bed. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know . . . God, Kilter, I don’t know if I want you.” A white lie, her body sure as hell wanted him, however her brain was shouting at her to take baby steps with him.
“Bull,” he said raking his hand through his hair as he paced the length of the room. “You want me. I felt how much just a second ago.” She felt heat blaze in her cheeks. “You’re just scared. Well, screw that. I was goddamn scared today when I nearly lost you.” He swore under his breath. “Fine, babe. You need time? I can do that.” He grabbed the bowl and walked to the door. “I’ll make you a sandwich.” He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
****
Waleron stood in the foyer, his stance tense as he considered the situation. He could hear the muffled voice of Rayne and Kilter downstairs and Galen’s fingers typing on his computer up in the attic. “With tonight’s incident we have to act now,” Waleron said. “We need information. Why was a vampire after Rayne? It makes no sense.”
“Is she ready?” Anstice asked as she stroked the top of Grim’s massive black head. “She’s gone through a horrendous experience, and even though Rebecca has done wonders I think it’s still too soon.”
Waleron understood Anstice’s concern. She was a Healer, after all, and compassion was her forte. Not his. He did everything in his power to protect them, and if it meant using another to get the job done then so be it. “She was shot. If Kilter had not been there, she would be dead or in their grasp. She will tell us everything she knows whether she is ready or not.” His jaw tensed. He looked to Keir. “Call Delara in.”
Keir gave a curt nod and put his hand on his wife’s arm when she opened her mouth. No doubt to object again, Waleron thought. Anstice was an incredible Healer, but she was new to the Senses ways and still had to learn to never second-guess him.