STEP (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

“To the floor,” Waleron shouted in her mind and she dove for the ground just as a vampire swept down from the second floor. She rolled to the side beneath a table as Waleron sent a bolt of energy towards it and knocked it off its feet.

  “Do you ever listen to me? Get the hell out of here, Rayne. I can’t concentrate,” Kilter said, glancing with fury at her.

  “I’m trying, damn it.”

  She jumped to her feet and swerved around Jedrik, who was busy tackling a Long Neck.

  She grabbed the door handle and tugged. It swung open and she felt the scream rise up in her throat as one mean-looking man stood blocking her escape. She froze. Her feet glued to the floor, eyes wide with horror, as she stared at his furious expression.

  “Get back,” he shouted. His muscular arm came out and pushed her aside. She landed on her butt to the left of the door. At first, she thought he was a GQ by his handsome appearance and was pissed at her attempt to escape, but when a Long Neck attacked him, she realized he’d been shoving her out of harm’s way.

  She scuttled backwards on her hands as the handsome guy’s face went a bright orangey red color. He slammed his fist into the Long Neck’s chest then pulled out his still beating heart. The Long Neck writhed and screamed before it shriveled up and disappeared only to emerge again in its original form—a cockroach.

  The stranger went straight into the heat of the battle. Rayne noticed he was working his way towards Delara, who was still struggling against the blue-haired vamp she’d seen at the penthouse. Delara was on the defensive and losing.

  Waleron took one look at the handsome guy and give a single nod. “Edan.” The guy in return did the same. Animosity was evident, but they were willing to put it aside for this fight. Whoever the hell he was, the guy was authoritative and much needed.

  She kept the wall at her back, sliding towards the door again when she saw Abby suddenly vault away from Kilter’s Scar. The Scar looked shocked and confused at what happened. Rayne looked across the opposite side of the room to Kilter, who was pale and weakening. It was too much. Fighting and using his Scar was too much.

  “Kilter, call your Scar to you.”

  “Shit,” Kilter swore as he saw that Abby was no longer under his Scar’s control. The black panther-like Scar ran towards him and leapt into the air, changing to a white light before it merged with Kilter.

  Abby was running towards Damien and Liam. Neither one had any clue that Abby was free and was going to jump right into the fray.

  Rayne took off after her, knowing the young girl getting into Liam’s hands would be detrimental to all of their existence, including Abby’s.

  “No, Abby,” Rayne shouted.

  She ran hard and fast across the living room into the next room, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to intercept in time. Serafina, damn it, why did you have to leave me? Her Scar would’ve flown across the room in one swoop and stopped Abby. Rayne had no doubt that her Scar was just as tough as that huge panther-thing of Kilter’s.

  Rayne stopped dead.

  It was too late to stop the motion as Abby ran right into their battle, her temple taking a direct hit from Liam as he aimed for Damien. She went flying five feet in the air and landed in a heap on the floor.

  Both men stopped with shock. Then a deep, deafening roar emerged from Damien’s throat.

  Rayne went for Abby at the same time as Liam and Damien. She reached her first and grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her backwards. Footsteps ran towards her and Abby. Rayne looked up to see Damien struggling against a minion’s hold and Liam standing over her.

  He clutched her forearm, daggers digging into her flesh. He ripped Abby from her grip, picked her up and threw her body like a rag doll.

  Rayne grunted as her shoulder took the impact of the unrelenting floor. Bones cracked and her vision hazed over in agony. She swore under her breath as she supported her shoulder and crawled to her feet.

  “Christ, Rayne,” Kilter shouted as he tried to get to her, but was unable.

  Liam gripped Abby to his chest. She was coming to, her head shaking from side to side.

  Damien broke a leg off a chair and went for the vamp who’d deterred him from going after Abby. There was no hesitation as he pierced the guy’s chest with the wooden leg. A shrilled scream echoed then abruptly ended as Damien pulled a small knife from his boot and slit it across the vamp’s throat.

  Damien turned to Abby and Liam, his face a mask of fury.

  Liam backed away from him, Abby as his shield. Neither were paying attention to anything but one another. Rayne saw her opportunity. She grabbed the knife that had slid under one of the overturned chairs and crawled to her feet. She took several deep breaths, knowing she’d need every bit of strength in order to make this work.

  “When I put my hands on him, take Abby,” Rayne said.

  “No. Get out of here before I have to save your butt too,” Damien said, his tone menacing. He kept his eyes locked on Abby and Liam.

  She came up behind them. “I’m doing this, so be ready,” Rayne warned. She heard Damien shouting at her to stop, but she ignored him as she ran at Liam.

  Liam must have sensed her coming up behind, but not in time. Her knife was meant to go in the middle of his back, but his slight movement sent it off its mark and it went into his side. Regardless, it was enough and his grip faltered on Abby.

  Damien leapt, pulling Abby away and quickly calling his Scar. “Simian. Now.”

  Rayne got a glimpse of Damien’s Scar as it took a magnificent form and wrapped its protective warmth around Abby.

  Rayne held her arms around Liam as if they were welded to his body. The knife wound might have made him falter, but his strength was immeasurable. He swung her from side to side, trying to dislodge her while his fingernails dug into her arms. Ignoring the excruciating pain in her shoulder, she closed her eyes and called on her ability.

  Liam’s emotions were red-hot fury and they hit her with the force of a Mac truck. The intensity gripped her mind, bleeding her thoughts of goodness and sucking out everything except the anger. She could feel him growing weaker, the confusion in his steps as he stumbled, the pain in her hands from his fingernails lessening. She was winning.

  Rayne screamed out as a burning sharp pain shot through her lower back. Her grip wavered, and Liam took full advantage by jerking his elbow back and slamming it into her jaw. He spun around and pushed her to the floor.

  She landed on her stomach with the wind knocked out of her. She reached around to her back and felt the object of the agony. Blood thick and warm slid over her fingers. The hilt of a knife was imbedded in flesh. She couldn’t move.

  Liam’s eyes darted around the room and from the look on his face, he knew he was going to lose the battle. His face scrunched up and he hissed, revealing his long white fangs.

  Damien’s head raised and his telepathy went to every Senses in the room. “Liam’s going for Rayne. Two seconds. I’m not close enough, damn it.”

  Liam took the final step, leaned forward and grabbed her by the neck with one hand, ending her inhalation. Her hands went instinctively to his fingers, clawing at him as he lifted her off the ground.

  His head jerked to the right where Waleron appeared in a sudden swirl of gray mist.

  Liam laughed a high-pitched tone that sent shivers down her spine.

  Her air was running out.

  Her strength fading.

  “Kilter . . .” Rayne’s eyes hazed over and she lost consciousness.

  Chapter 35

  Kilter saw Waleron Trace in front of Rayne and Liam, while he felt like he was running through quicksand trying to get to her. It seemed like every single, body, table and chair was purposely in his way. He faltered and nearly went to knees when he heard Rayne’s words in his head.

  Rayne, he begged as she left his mind. No. He couldn’t survive without her. He wouldn’t survive.

  Liam and Waleron were at a standoff, and Kilter knew that the selfish vamp wouldn’t want to
die without taking Rayne with him.

  Kilter threw a chair out his way. Goddamn it, she was not going to die. He’d never allow it. Never.

  Waleron had to act now. Why was he hesitating? He could blast Liam with energy, but he didn’t.

  “Waleron, blast the fucker.”

  “She is too close,” Waleron replied. “It is too risky.”

  “What’s your deal? She’ll die. Blast him and I’ll grab Rayne. Rip his bloody head from his shoulders.”

  Kilter was surprised by Waleron’s indecisiveness. Their Taldeburu fought steady and calm with resilience and unfathomable authority. He never hesitated. Ever. Even if there was a chance of harming one of his own. Because Waleron knew the consequences for indecision. They all did.

  The problem was that Waleron had never had another soul in his life that was his own blood. No kin. No wife. Not even a bloody dog. But now he had a daughter.

  Rayne was Waleron’s child. Even he had trouble swallowing the idea.

  Kilter leapt over the last obstacle in his path.

  Ten feet away. Nine feet. Eight feet.

  “Now. Damn it,” he shouted at Waleron.

  Waleron shoved his hands forward towards Liam’s side. The bolt of energy sideswiped Rayne on her arm, making her body jerk, and sank into Liam’s chest.

  They both crashed backwards from the momentum of the bolt of energy. Kilter slammed his fist into Liam’s face and hauled Rayne from the vamp’s death grip.

  He glanced at Waleron and gave a single nod. Waleron grabbed Liam by the neck, his eyes flashing the same red hue as a vamp’s in bloodlust. There was no hesitation this time as Waleron’s hands cracked Liam’s neck, then with one jerk, ripped it from his shoulders.

  “Waleron, we need Anstice ASAP. Can you Trace and bring her back?” Kilter leaned over Rayne, pulling her limp body onto his lap while being cautious about the knife still plunged into her back. He didn’t dare pull it out until Anstice arrive. Her heartbeat was slow and her breathing shallow. She was pale. Way too pale. “Waleron, damn it. Anstice. Now.”

  Kilter took off his shirt and put it around her as he held her against his own body heat. “You live, damn it. Do you hear me?”

  Was she still breathing? Was that her heart or a muscle twitching?

  No. Not now. She was his breath, his soul, his every existence. The woman who’d shown him the path to redemption, the broken woman who’d fought her way back from a horrible eating disorder to become strong and healthy. It was not her time.

  “He can’t do that,” Delara said, coming up beside him and kneeling on the floor. She swept her hand over Rayne’s brow. “He can only Trace with me.”

  “I don’t give a shit what he can and can’t do,” Kilter shouted. “What I need is a goddamn Healer. Now.”

  “I can,” Edan said.

  Kilter jerked his head up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He’d only met Edan a few times in his lifetime, but Edan was difficult to forget. The power and magnitude emanating from his body was impressive. What the hell was a Wraith doing in this fight? They only involved themselves if a Senses had broken one of their draconian laws.

  The Wraith put a hand on Delara’s shoulder and squeezed. Kilter realized why the Wraith was here—he’d been protecting Delara. “I’ll return soon.” He swirled in a cloud of red dust and disappeared from sight.

  Kilter pulled Rayne closer to him, trying to give her body his warmth. He kissed the top of her head and murmured soft words of love over and over again. Delara was crying, holding Rayne’s hand while Waleron stood hovering over them like a shield. A shield from what, Kilter couldn’t guess. The CWOs had disintegrated then reformed to whatever harmless insect they’d been before robbing the body they stole from whatever grave.

  Jedrik, Keir and Tye were busy chopping heads off dead vamps and setting them on fire. If their bodies were left intact, their wounds could heal, then all this fighting would’ve been for nothing.

  Balen approached them, his expression worried and uneasy. “Waleron. A problem.” He gestured to the far side of the room. “Simian won’t let her go. Damien has lost complete control of him.”

  Waleron dragged his eyes from Rayne and glanced to the source of the problem. “Have Talu contain them, but don’t do anything. They are not to leave the premises.”

  Balen nodded and took off.

  It took all of ten seconds before Edan was back with Anstice, who became a general as soon as she assessed the situation.

  “Waleron, get a table upright, pronto. Kilter, I need her lying on her stomach so I can deal with the knife wound first. Delara, your emotions are too distressing and that’s detrimental for a Reflection. You can’t be near Rayne right now.”

  Delara stumbled back, her hand to her mouth as she nodded, then turned and walked away. Edan watched her go and his eyes turned to Waleron. Neither moved nor said a word. Then just as abruptly, Edan spun on his heel and followed Delara, catching up to her just before the door. Delara pushed him away. Edan said something, then his figure swirled into red dust and vanished.

  Waleron had the dining room table upright again, and Kilter lifted Rayne up in his arms and set her down on the hard surface as softly as he could. He swept Rayne’s hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears.

  Anstice put her hands over the wound while Kilter continued to stroke her brow. She raised her head and gave him a questioning look; he ignored it. He knew she hated healing when others were touching the wounded, since they would see and feel exactly as she did—the pain and horror of the how the wound occurred. She also knew when to keep her mouth shut.

  Anstice’s hands glowed a soft yellow hue as they hovered over Rayne’s wound, eyes closed and her body jerking and then rocking back and forth. Kilter felt the sting of the blade just as Anstice did, but it was still nothing compared to what Rayne had suffered. He kept his hand on Rayne’s forehead, subtly stroking with his palm, needing the touch of their skin merged as one. He felt as if . . . if he let go, then Rayne would, and that was not happening.

  Anstice moved her hands over the rest of Rayne’s body, and already Kilter could feel the warmth seeping back into her flesh.

  Anstice gave him a smile. “She’s very lucky, Kilter. She’ll be fine.”

  He breathed a long sigh of relief and leaned forward to touch Rayne’s lips with his own. “You’re stuck with me, babe.” He raised his head and met Waleron’s cold, unfeeling eyes. “I hope you heard that because she is mine.”

  Waleron said nothing.

  Chapter 36

  Abby watched Damien pace back and forth, his eyes every so often locking on her and Simian. Balen’s Scar Talu matched his steps as if a shadow, except this shadow could kill with one leap. Simian was protecting her from the Senses and she knew why. She was one of them, the ones Jedrik and Tye were at the present moment burning to a crisp. An enemy. Liam might be toast and she was free from his commands, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a vampire and had the ability to change water into blood.

  She was a vampire. Dead and returned ageless and immortal. And she hated it. Alone without a single soul she could turn to. Her coven had abandoned her and it made sense, she was too dangerous. Senses killed her type. It was simple—she could not exist as she was. And she didn’t want to.

  She was logical when she had to be, but it sucked and she preferred to be impetuous, like when she picked up Damien in the grocery store then had sex with him all night and into the next day.

  God, Damien, what have I done?

  Sudden thirst shot through her and she felt Simian’s hands clamp down on her shoulders to keep her in place. He seemed to sense when she was fighting her body. With Damien giving her his blood, it had calmed the blood rage, letting her mind become sane again, but the thirst remained. It always would.

  She raised her head and looked at Damien, who clenched and unclenched his hands while he paced like a feral caged animal. He kept glancing at her, running a hand through his hair, the
corners of his eyes curved down, to match his mouth. But it was the expression he held, concern . . . no, it was fear she witnessed in the depths of his eyes.

  Something inside her broke. It was as if the dam holding back her emotions suddenly gave way. The desolation crumbling her insides into bricks weighing her under. It was him. All this time. He was what had kept her alive and sane for so long. Every day she had fought against Turning because she craved his face each morning. Needed his touch. The way he rested his hand on her head. How his heart sped up beneath her palm when she laid her cheek on his chest. The way he looked at her, afraid to touch her lest he couldn’t stop.

  Tears filled the corners of her eyes, spilled over the lids and trickled down her cheeks. Her head lowered and she felt the soothing caress of Damien’s Scar on her lower back. He knew. He knew how she felt.

  Anguish smothered her like a wool blanket. Images of him giving her his blood. The sacrifice he made when he knew it was against the Senses’ codes. His sacrifice for months on end. What she had done to him during the nights.

  Their baby. Their loss. “Abby.” Waleron strode past Talu, who snarled but quickly lay down with a whine, and stopped within two feet of her and Simian.

  She wiped the tears with the back of her arm and looked up. It was time. She saw Waleron’s expression—grim and displeased with the task set before him. But they both understood why. She had no intention of being kept in a cage like a wild zoo animal.

  She reached up and placed her hand on Simian’s cheek. “I must go with Waleron,” she said.

  Simian allowed her to turn around to face him, but he had yet to completely let her go. She leaned close, standing on her tiptoes as she whispered to him, “Look after him, Simian. Listen to him. You must go to him now. He wants you to go to him.”

  Abby kept her back to Damien as Simian changed and disappeared into the string of light that linked him to Damien. Waleron came up behind, and the smell of his blood was a strong reminder of why she’d walk to her death. Why she’d told Waleron that this was the path she wanted.