STEP (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

  She swallowed several times before she could form words. “I’m ready,” she said. Kind of, she thought. No, she’d never be ready, but being childish and stomping her feet at the situation she’d put herself in was not dignified. She wanted Damien to remember her with dignity and pride.

  “Ready for what?” Damien asked as he strode closer. Talu followed, snarling. He stood in front of her and Waleron.

  Abby kept her head lowered and her eyes hidden. He’d know. He’d see it in her face.

  “Ready for what?” Damien demanded. He went to grab her arm and she jerked back. The memory of his blood on her lips was causing enough thirst to drive her into a frenzy, and one touch would have her at his throat like a rabid animal.

  “Damien,” Keir said coming up beside them. “She has chosen this. Christ, man, I’m . . . sorry—”

  The anguished half roar, half sob ripped through the air as if it would tear apart every soul within its reach. He made another grab for her, but Waleron yanked her out of his reach, and Keir and Talu took him to the floor. Jedrik, Balen and Tye came running.

  “Don’t go,” Damien shouted with a ravaged voice. “Abby, don’t go.”

  They surrounded Damien, holding him down as he fought like a madman. The sound of scuffling feet, grunts, the distinct sound of fists hitting flesh. She could hear his devastated cry as he tried desperately to get free.

  “Abby.” This time his shout was a long drawn-out cry. “Jesus, Abby, don’t leave me.”

  She choked on a sob, her fist to her mouth, teeth clamping down on her skin. She kept walking.

  “Damn it, Waleron. Don’t take her from me. She’s . . . she’s all I have.”

  She glanced at Waleron, but his face remained impassive to Damien’s pleading.

  “Abby.” There was a loud grunt and Balen muttering a string of curses. “Abb, damn it, I love you. I goddamn love you,” Damien shouted.

  She staggered, her legs buckling and she nearly collapsed. Waleron grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

  Damien. Don’t do this. Please, she pleaded over and over.

  “Waleron, let me die with her. Goddamn it, take me too,” Damien yelled at Waleron. She heard his voice quiver, knew he was turning to desperation.

  I love you more than anything, she silently cried. More than my life. This is the only way.

  She did this for both of them.

  Waleron squeezed her arm. It was almost . . . reassuring.

  Tears streamed down her face and this time she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She peered up at the Taldeburu. “Tell him the truth. Tell him why I drank Liam’s blood. About my mother. Why I did it. Promise me you will do this . . . promise . . .”

  “He will hate you for lying to him.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “It will be better that way.”

  He gave a single nod. “Perhaps.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Damien’s image was hidden behind the Scars and Senses surrounding him. All she could hear were his tortured cries. Waleron released her arm but waited for her to continue walking.

  “Goodbye, Damien,” she said in a choked whisper.

  Damien’s roars of unadulterated torment exploded into night. Her step faltered at the threshold.

  Breathe.

  Don’t look back.

  She raised her head and walked out into the darkness, her executioner right behind.

  Chapter 37

  Rayne sighed, stretched her limbs and opened her eyes, feeling as if she’d just slept for a solid twenty-four hours. She bolted upright when she didn’t recognize where she was, then it all came flashing back like a spark of electricity.

  “About time.” Kilter stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. He strode towards her and she had the sudden urge to laugh at his hair. It was sticking up in all the wrong places as if he’d been yanking at it for several hours. “I thought I’d have to wait another century for you to wake up.”

  Rayne smiled and raised her brows. “And would you?”

  “Well, of course I damn well . . .” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re teasing and fishing for compliments.”

  “I am not,” Rayne said, feigning abhorrence at his insinuation.

  Kilter lowered his frame to the bed and gently stroked the side of her face with the tip of his finger while she smoothed his unruly hair. “You scared the living hell out of me, baby. Don’t do it again.” He sighed and softened his voice. “How do you feel?”

  “Brain still swimming with all that happened, but . . . Abby.” The last she remembered was Damien grabbing her. “What happened to Abby? Liam?”

  Kilter scowled, taking her hand and squeezing it, fingers caressing. “Waleron killed him then took Abby.”

  She saw the remorse in his eyes, something she hadn’t expected. He cared. She leaned into him, her head resting on his arm. “But Liam is dead. Abby was safe.”

  Kilter wrapped his arms around her, his hand resting on the small of her back. “She asked it of Waleron. Abby didn’t want to live that way. She’d always be hunted by vamps, never be free.”

  She remembered the girl, so haunted and alone, eyes red-rimmed with bloodlust. She chose death rather than fight for some semblance of life. She could sympathize why Abby had taken that route; she’d once been down a similar path.

  “And Damien?”

  “He lost it. I would assume Waleron put him in Deep Sleep until they decide what is to be done. For now, he’s contained. It’s probably better that way.”

  “Kilter, I hate this, the fighting, the abilities. I hate worrying if your life could end. I’m not cut out for being a Reflection. I’m not cut out to be your Taldeburu’s daughter.”

  Kilter was silent as he nestled down beside her, put his hand on her head and guided it to his chest. “Babe, you went after Liam, with a knife. You’ve never fought a battle like last night in your life. We, all of us, have lived for centuries. We’ve been trained to fight since we were children. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He paused and kissed the top of her head. “Rayne, you’ve fought your own battle, which many have lost. That alone is strength of who you’ve become. Waleron and Delara are truly gifted to have you as their daughter.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Despite your foolishness last night—” he gripped her chin and made certain she was looking at him, “—which you will never do again, I am very proud to call you mine.”

  Rayne smacked his arm teasingly. “Yours? That’s a little arrogant and presumptuous, isn’t it?”

  He tweaked her nose with his finger, but his fierce scowl remained. “I am arrogant and presumptuous. I make no denial of that. But make no mistake, babe . . . you’re mine.”

  She wanted to be angry and wipe that smirk off his face, but she liked his words. She loved this man, loved that he’d cared for her when she was a skinny rake who had no confidence and was filled with anxiety. She adored that he’d read a book to try to help her when the entire time she was shoving him away. His persistence. His faith in her. His trust in her.

  But one thing separated them—his way of life. The violence. The enemies. The unknown. She knew she had to continue to build her own self-worth, to maintain her therapy sessions. Fighting vampires, CWOs and having her heart in her throat every single time Kilter walked out the door, afraid he wouldn’t return . . . she didn’t want that. Wasn’t ready for that. She was uncertain if she’d ever be.

  She stroked the underside of his jaw, loving the stubble under the pad of her fingers. She felt his love for her, knew the truth in his words. “I will always be yours, Kilter. As you will forever be in my heart. I love you but—“

  He frowned as he interrupted, “There is no goddamn but.”

  She bit her lower lip, looking away. He wouldn’t allow it as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I stabbed a person, Kilter. And then I used my capabilities to try and kill him.”

  “He was a bloody vampire who was goi
ng to kill you,” Kilter retorted. He went to get off the bed when she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

  “I don’t want that life, Kilter. I’ve been trying to escape it my entire life.”

  “You would leave me? Waleron and Delara? You’d give up those who care about you?” Kilter’s tone lowered, “I will look after you. We all will. You won’t have to fight as we do. I can protect you, Rayne.” He cupped both cheeks in his hands, thumbs caressing her skin. “Please baby, you have to trust me.”

  She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. This was why she’d do it. Why she’d risk everything. “Kilter, you mean the—”

  He jerked from her grasp and leapt from the bed, running his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth. “So you’re leaving me? That’s your plan? To walk away? Christ, Rayne, you’re destroying me here.” He took a deep breath. Rayne slipped out of bed as he continued to pace back and forth. “No. I won’t let you—”

  She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting on his back. She felt his heart racing erratically beneath her palms and slowed it down. He took a deep breath. “Stop. You have to learn to let me finish my sentences.”

  He went to turn, but she held him in place.

  “No, stand there and listen to me,” she ordered. The tension slightly dissipated from his body as she continued to hold him. “You mean the world to me. If I had to I would live back in the compound if only to know you would be by my side.” She felt his sharp intake of air. “Yes, I don’t want this life, but I want you in my life more, and if that means we live here and fight crazy bug-people and whatever else, then that’s what we will do.”

  She couldn’t stop him this time as he whirled around and picked her up in his arms, his eyes blazing with intensity. “I won’t repeat myself, so you better say yes the first time. Marry me.”

  “What?” She balked.

  “I’m impatient and crass and I get what I want.” He walked over to the bed and lay her down. He came overtop, hands grabbing her wrists and placing them above her head. “And I want you.”

  She licked her lips several times and saw his eyes flash with desire as he watched her. She wiggled her body and tried to get her wrists free, but he remained immobile.

  “Your answer,” he demanded.

  “Let my hands go first,” she said.

  “No,” he replied and readjusted himself so he lay between her legs. “Tell me yes.”

  “Will you always be this way?”

  He hesitated then a slow grin formed. “Yes.”

  “Mmmm, I see.” She saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but still his resolve was unmovable. This was whom she loved. Crass, determined and stubborn as a mule, but he’d go to the ends of the earth for those he loved. He’d give his own life, a selfless man with so much to give. Betrayed by his brother and the woman he loved, yet still he had opened himself up to her. Trusted her to bring him back from destruction.

  “Rayne, please.” His voice was an agonized whisper.

  “I am honored you have asked me to marry you, but—”

  “For Christ’s sake Rayne.” He dropped his head to her chest. “No buts, please.”

  “But you will have to get permission from Waleron.”

  His hands tightened around her wrists and he glanced up at her with what appeared like amazement. “Yes though. Yes?”

  She laughed. “Yes, I will marry you Kilter. But out of respect, ask—”

  “He can’t deny me your hand.” He put both her wrists into one hand and slid his other down the side of her. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she shivered. “You are mine.”

  Before she could reply, he crushed her lips with his own, and she melted into the embrace of the man who flooded her with love.

  ****

  Waleron had hesitated twice in the past two days, once at sending a bolt of energy at Liam with Rayne at risk and now. He knew Delara was inside, could hear her breath as if it was right next to his ear. Her steps he’d recognize anywhere, casual and yet agile like a cat’s. Her scent drifted into him and he could smell the despair, the anger, the self-hate. He also smelled the sweet alluring scent of her skin that he had memorized since the first day he’d met her.

  He yanked open the back door to the gallery and walked upstairs to the bedroom.

  And just as he could sense her near, so could she.

  “I’m leaving, okay. Jedrik came by with a bottle of vodka and twelve Red Bulls last night. I’m a little slow on the mark,” Delara said. She left the door ajar as she went into the bathroom and threw toiletries into her bag. Waleron leaned up against the doorframe. He watched her movements. He had overreacted by asking Delara to leave Toronto, to leave the Senses. At the time, he was so furious that she had kept her pregnancy from him. Lied to him.

  And that had been before he’d known Rayne was his own.

  What infuriated him more was that Delara managed to disappear time and again and he had never been able to locate her. One of those times, she had been carrying his child. Their child. A child who had been put through hell. If he had known . . . he honestly wasn’t sure what he’d have done, probably hidden Rayne away so she’d be safe from his nemesis Jasmine.

  But he had spoken with haste. Yes, he had every right to be pissed as hell, but to tell one of his own Senses to leave was . . . this was Delara he’d told to leave. Delara. The woman he could barely go a minute without thinking of.

  “Are you waiting to escort me out of T.O? Or does it give you satisfaction watching me pack?” Delara asked.

  “I had no right to ask you to leave.” Waleron kept his tone steady and calm. “But I cannot forgive you for keeping something so significant from me.”

  Delara grabbed a wrinkled piece of yellowed paper from her nightstand, shoved it in her jean pocket, then walked across the room to her knapsack. “Well, I was leaving anyway.”

  “Running again.” It was a statement. Delara ran from everything and he was to blame for most of it. Yet giving her what she wanted was too risky. He’d never put her life in jeopardy again by being with her, even if it was destroying them both.

  “I deserved that. But, actually, no. This time I’m not. I am running towards someone.”

  Waleron’s breath left him for two short seconds. He didn’t say anything, afraid to ask what she was referring. Afraid that she was talking about Edan and, despite his refusal to give what she wanted, a relationship, it ripped him to shreds to see her with other men. It made it worse now that they shared a wonderful daughter.

  A daughter. God, the word was difficult to comprehend when related to him. No, it was terrifying.

  “Delara,” Waleron said, “You cannot leave Rayne.” The thought of trying to form any sort of father daughter relationship without Delara was . . . it was impossible.

  She threw her bag over her shoulder and glared at him. “Of course, you’d think so poorly of me that I’d walk out on her.” She shook her head. “Figures.” She walked to the door and stood inches from him. “At least something beautiful came out of our night of sex. I’ll never regret that. But I sure as hell regret giving you my heart and soul.”

  Waleron’s blue eyes paled as he took hold of her arm. “You lied to me about continuing to see Liam and you failed to inform me you were carrying our child. I have every right to be furious with you.”

  She ignored him, changing the subject and yanking her arm out of his grasp. “Why did you negotiate with Jasmine?”

  “It was not a negotiation.” No, it was what had to happen in order to free Rayne.

  “You offered yourself for Rayne. Sure sounds like a negotiation.”

  “It had to happen that way.”

  She stiffened and he knew right then that she knew. “Trinity.”

  Waleron gave a curt nod.

  “She gave you her visions,” she concluded. “Trinity knew it was the only way to free Rayne.”

  “Yes.” He noticed her complexion fade to a grey tone and
wished he could hold her in his arms and soothe the hurt. “Anything related to Abby she could not see. Damien appearing was a surprise. I suspect we have Kilter to blame for that.”

  “So how long did she demand you fuck her for her visions this time?”

  “Delara,” Waleron warned, grabbing her arm in steel grip again. “Don’t. It will never happen again.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Pez,” she replied and tried to pull away. This time he refused to let go. “Where are you going, Delara?”

  “I’m going where I always go when I leave, and then in a few weeks I’m meeting my daughter and Kilter. They are taking an extended vacation. I’ll be back . . . whenever.” She pried her arm from his grip, pitched forward as if to take a step, and stopped. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then met his intense stare. Something in her had softened. Her expression had changed, the anger dissipating to resignation.

  “You are good at what you do, Pez. Leading the Senses. Fighting to maintain justice in this world. It’s what you live for. That’s who you are. Maybe I’m just realizing this now. Maybe I thought one day you might . . . no, not maybe, I did think that one day you’d be able to share that life with me.”

  His heart hammered against his chest as if a drum sentencing him to death. He wanted to reach out, take her in his arms, hold her, tell her they could be as they once were . . .

  “With Rayne coming back into our lives, I guess I realized how much time I’ve lost with her and how much time I’ve lost loving you.” She stood on her tiptoes, tilted her head and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You did good, Waleron. With Abby. Jedrik told me. She’ll learn to adjust to her new life even if she doesn’t realize that now. Maybe some of that ice around your heart is melting.”

  “Abigail hates me,” Waleron admitted. “As does Damien. I don’t know what he will do if he ever finds out she is alive.”

  Delara smiled. “I do. He’ll go after her.” She ran a finger across his jaw. A touch so familiar, yet so lost to his memories. “We have a remarkable daughter who came from our love, Waleron.”