by Nashoda Rose
Was he watching me right now? Was that why I had the feeling as if he was always around me?
I walked through my gallery, opened the back door, then stepped outside. The cool wind gripped my body as if a hand were pushing me backward toward the safety of my place. I ignored it, crossed my arms, and walked out into the alley. Another gust pounded into me and I shivered.
A dumpster sat to the left and several more a few feet away. Had he stood out here watching me? I looked up at my bedroom window that lacked curtains. I was being stupid; no way would he stand outside in the freezing cold just to watch me through a window.
I turned to head back inside and slammed right into a brick wall of warmth.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low and husky, and damn if it didn’t make my stomach flutter.
I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Have you been watching me?”
“Didn’t you learn anything tonight? It’s not safe. Get inside before you get hurt.”
Being scolded like a child didn’t work for me. In school, my teachers discovered that pretty damn fast. My parents believed scolding children was for the weak-minded and, instead, discussed issues rationally and encouraged me to be inquisitive. Needless to say, some teachers didn’t take well to a child refusing to do as they were told without question. Another reason the principal’s office became a familiar setting.
I glared back at him. “Either come inside and tell me what the fuck is going on, or leave me the hell alone. And I mean for good. Don’t protect me, don’t follow me, and sure as hell don’t kiss me.”
He stood immovable, blocking the wind and snow from blowing into me. I tried not to flinch, but his unwavering glower made my confidence waver. I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. “Nothing to say? Well, then, fuck off.” I turned, intent on continuing down the alley just to spite him.
I managed ten steps—I counted—before his voice rose over the howling wind. “Cages.”
I stopped, closing my eyes and putting my fist to my mouth, smothering my cry. It was an overwhelming relief mixed with intense fear knowing that tonight I’d hear what happened to me.
I heard the snow crunch beneath his feet as he came up behind me. Then his hands settled on my hips for a second before he gently pulled me around to face him. He lowered my hand from my mouth then cupped my chin.
“We were in cages,” he repeated.
I met his eyes and that was when I saw the torment. Any anger I felt for him was swept away with the bitter wind. He knew what I’d been through and had lived with the pain just as I had.
“Cages hanging from the ceiling.” His thumb stroked back and forth over my chin. “You were so brave. So fuckin’ brave, Danni.”
I let out a small cry, my mind reeling with confusion, searching for some sort of memory to grasp onto. The sound, a chain cranking, a cage being lowered, fear coursing through my veins, knowing pain would come again. What pain? What had they done to me?
A female voice sounded from the end of the alley. “Don’t!”
Balen shoved me behind him, but kept his hand locked on my arm. The scattered lights from the nearby buildings illuminated a figure walking toward us. She was clothed in a hip length black leather coat that billowed out behind her with each steady step.
I straightened my spine as the woman came into full view. She was stunning. Not model beauty, but a natural beauty. She looked about five-foot-three or -four and had toned legs clad in tight, black jeans. Her hair was cropped shoulder length with jagged edges that reached an inch below her chin. Her features were sharp and her skin a flawless almond color. South American, maybe, or Spanish. Whichever, the woman was beautiful.
The woman’s eyes never once left Balen and it felt like a standoff. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Delara.” Balen nodded to her.
Delara? That was the girl Jedrik had mentioned the other night. He’d said she’d taken off though.
“He knows you’re back. And there are . . . complications.” Her voice was harsh like sandpaper scratching a marble slab—sexy.
“Aren’t there always,” Balen said, his grip on my arm tightening.
Feeling jealous sucked. It was a new emotion for me and it made me feel out of control and vulnerable.
I noticed them both stiffen, and then the woman swore several times.
“Get out of here,” she said. Her gaze shot to me, then back to Balen. “You should’ve stayed away from her. He’s going to be seriously pissed.” She glanced over her shoulder then looked back at us. “Go, damn it.”
“Why are you helping me?” he asked.
“You fought and won. You’re still one of us.”
Fought and won? What the hell were they talking about? Who was going to be pissed?
“You trust me?” Balen asked her.
She gave an abrupt nod. “Yeah. Now, get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not running anymore, Delara. I’ll face my punishment,” he said.
“Punishment?” I asked. “What are you talking about?” Was he wanted by the police?
Delara ignored me and looked over her shoulder then back at Balen. “Fine. Do what you want, but turn yourself in, don’t go as a prisoner. Go. I’ll keep him occupied.”
Balen nodded then turned to me, his gaze hardening as if he was assessing me for a brief second.
“What is she talking about?” My heart raced and I could feel my nerves going off like live-wires. “Balen, what is going on?”
He leaned in until his lips were inches from my ear. “Don’t be jealous, little one. Even if I can’t have you, I’ll always be yours.”
My breath hitched and I went to pull away to look up at him, but he turned then jogged down the alley.
The woman grabbed my sleeve to get my attention as I watched Balen disappear from view. “Go inside.” She nodded to an approaching figure from the opposite direction Balen disappeared. “You don’t want to meet this guy.”
“What were you and Balen talking about?”
“There’s no time.” She shoved me toward my gallery door. “If you want to stay alive then get out of here.”
I glanced once more down the alley then turned and ran inside.
I FELT THE VIBRATION of his anger with each stride he took toward me. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin to give the impression I was confident and unconcerned about his sudden appearance. Because the moment Waleron saw any weakness, he’d crush me.
Inside I was a chaotic jumble of emotions as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I took short harsh breaths, feeling as if I was suffocating under a blanket of fear. Getting beat up by my ex-maite, Tarek, didn’t help matters, although Waleron would never hurt me physically; his was pure emotional destruction.
I hadn’t seen him since the night he stood beside the witch-bitch, Trinity, knowing he was going to fuck her. It had reaped a hole right through me and I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I had to leave. I had to get myself back. I left that day and I swore it would be the last time I’d let him affect me.
I inhaled his scent and my body betrayed me with marshmallow legs and a racing heart as memories came rushing back to humiliate me further.
Jesus Christ, I was a bowl of Jell-O. It was all I could do to remain standing as his eyes met mine with that familiar glint of blue. A blue that made all the reasons I left come rushing to the surface. I thought the hurt had been erased after all this time, but instead, the pain slammed back into me like a mallet.
I watched his long, confident legs—legs I’d tried desperately for years to obliterate from my mind, legs that had been around me. That I’d touched. Licked. Kissed every inch of.
He stood in front of me with his familiar, emotionless expression. No remorse for what he’d done. He didn’t touch me, yet I felt him all over. His breath seeped into my pores, fingertips caressed my skin. It wounded—broke every shred of dignity.
Bastard. Cold, callous bastard
.
Waleron stared, eyes like ice, voice even colder. “I will ask once. Why?”
“That’s all you want? Why? But you know the answer, don’t you? I made it clear and you made yourself crystal clear. Nothing more to be said.” I glared back at the hard lines on his face that matched his hard, unyielding disposition.
He reached toward me and I forced myself to stay completely still as my insides liquefied with anticipation of his touch. Did this need for him ever disappear? It was as if he had a nicotine-like hold on my mind and body and I couldn’t get him out of me.
God, touch me. Hold me again.
When the back of his hand stroked my cheek, I thought my knees would give way, but it was his eyes that kept me standing, a translucent blue that locked me in place.
“I thought,” Waleron began, but then he changed his mind and grabbed the back of my neck. It was harsh and forceful as though he was making it clear that any refusal on my part was unacceptable. His breath floated across my face, and then his lips followed.
At first, it was cruel and unbending, our mouths clashing in a wild need to hurt one another. But within seconds, it changed and it became sensual and gentle. My palms rested on his chest, heat radiated from him as I caressed the tattooed muscles that remained covered by his coat and shirt. His fingers stroked the back of my neck and goose bumps rose while our tongues danced a slow and erotic song.
When I moaned beneath his kiss, I instantly felt his withdrawal. No. Damn it, don’t do this again.
But it was too late. I felt the tension in him, the coldness seeping across his body to leak into me. God, he made me hate myself.
My hands fell from his chest and I shivered. Time couldn’t erase him. The realization hit me that I’d never break from this man. He could hurt me time and again, and yet . . . I still wanted every part of him. Tears fell, and I was disgusted with myself for allowing him to see me like this.
“Why? Why do you continue to do this?”
He kept his gaze riveted on me and I saw the anger swirling in the depths. I’d learned one thing since I’d been away from him. No matter how scared I was, I had to stand my ground. I’d survive without his love—I had survived—but to live with his bitterness, too?
“You left.” Waleron’s voice vibrated through the air. “You fuckin’ left!”
Goose bumps didn’t trickle across my skin; they darted in a wild frenzy. He was livid. He never swore.
His voice was so filled with rage that it took every ounce of courage to remain standing in front of him.
“Two years, Delara. Two years I searched for you. Nothing. No email. No messages. No calls. Nothing. That, I won’t forgive.” He pulled his duckhead candy dispenser from his pocket.
“God, why do you do that? I hate that thing.” My hand shot out and I grabbed the plastic container from him and flung it into the snow. “You walked away.” I tried to keep my voice controlled but I was slowly unravelling, and if he knew it, he’d finish the job himself. “You walked away from me. You chose life without me. What was I supposed to do? Watch you go off and have sex with Trinity?” The snake tattoo on the side of his neck, his Ink, hissed and its eyes flashed red. I stepped back. Waleron wouldn’t hurt me physically, but his Ink, I wasn’t so sure of.
“It was necessary. You know why,” he said.
“Bullshit. You chose to. We all have choices and you chose to sleep with that bitch for her visions. I get it. You protect us, all of us, but that doesn’t mean I had to stand around and watch you with another woman.”
“I want you in the Talde house by tomorrow. End of discussion, Delara.”
I snorted. “Not a chance.”
“Delara!”
Stand your ground. I gripped the sides of my jeans so hard my nails penetrate the denim. “I’m not living at the Talde house. And if you force this, I’ll retaliate. I need more time away from . . .” I was about to say you, but stopped myself. “I deserve this.”
There was a subtle twitch in his left cheek and I knew it well, just like everything else to do with this man—frustration. “With Balen gone, you’re our only Tracker. You’re a Scar. It’s your duty, Delara.”
My back stiffened. He had no right to ask this of me. I’d been nothing but loyal to the Scars.
“I’ll help if they need me, but I’m not coming back.” Was he completely numb to what we once shared? Did he feel nothing?
“And Tarek?”
Bastard had to bring up him. I crossed my arms, needing some kind of barrier from him. “He’s in Rest. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“You can’t defeat him, Delara. When his Resting period is over, he will come for you.”
“It isn’t your problem.” But knowing Waleron, he’d make it his problem. The guy had an issue with allowing others to deal with their own problems. An addiction to protectiveness—among other things.
Waleron closed his eyes for a second, and for an instant, I thought I saw his pain in the way his brows drew together, but that was impossible, Waleron didn’t feel pain anymore. “I can’t give you what you want, Delara. I made it clear that night. I’ll never love again.”
“Yeah, and I was the idiot to think that maybe that night would change your mind. Well, I’m not an idiot anymore. So be angry. Hate me for what I did and will do again. Because I want love. I want something you can’t give, so I’ll find it elsewhere.” I wiped away the stray tear with the back of my hand. The words poured out and I knew by the twitch in his jaw and the shifting of his weight that he was uncertain whether I was spewing lies or not. I felt him pushing at my mind, but I managed to keep my thoughts blocked from him.
I wanted more. I wanted what we once had—truth, friendship, laughter, passion. He had all those qualities in him, somewhere deep in his black, jagged heart. I’d seen his laughter, felt his gentle touch, and even experienced his teasing. It had been the only time in my life that I felt . . . whole.
Then it all shattered.
To pieces.
With one caress of his hand across my cheek, he’d told me we’d never be together again.
I’d been so stupid to believe that in time . . .
All the years I’d hoped and prayed Waleron would come to his senses, but he never did. And his coldness had leached into me, sucking out my heart and pulling me under so I couldn’t breathe. I knew if I stayed near him any longer, I’d become like him, cold and unfeeling.
The deal he made with Trinity had been the last knife in my gut. To stand in front of him, the witch, Trinity, at his side, and knowing he would spend the week in her seductive arms, it had killed any shred of hope I had for us. If he had one ounce of compassion for me, he’d never have made that bargain with that bitch.
That night, I’d walked away wounded, bleeding, and alone. I knew leaving would hurt Jedrik, but facing Waleron after that . . . I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to do that.
“We need you.” Waleron’s tone was quiet and raspy.
He said we. Not I need you. Screw that. “I’m here to help Balen. And, yes, he’s here. But you know that already, don’t you?” This was the only way.
“You can’t keep running.”
“Yeah, watch me, Waleron.” He flinched at that. I always called him Tac. “Watch me walk away and, I swear, I won’t look back. And you know why? Because I’m over you. I’ve healed. You mean nothing to me and I won’t stay under your control.” The lies tumbled out like marbles spilling from a glass jar.
Hate him. Break his blasted heart.
But that was impossible. Waleron didn’t have a heart.
I turned on my heel, my heart hoping he’d call me back, and common sense knowing he wouldn’t. He wanted me close to him, but refused to love me again. Well, he couldn’t have it both ways.
As I walked away from him, my mind kept screaming, Please call out to me. Please stop me. Love me like I know you can.
I kept my head high as tears stained my cheeks. He never called out to me; his stance neve
r moved.
And I never looked back.
I WALKED DOWN THE sidewalk the next evening still thinking about Balen. I had no idea if I’d ever see him again or if he’d suddenly show up next to me. What I did know was that I was sick of waiting for answers and trying to forget what happened to me. I wanted to know. I had to know.
It took twenty minutes with fake tear-filled eyes to find out the nurse’s name who had looked after me in the hospital. It took another fifteen minutes to convince the girl at the nursing station to tell me her schedule. Luckily, Nurse Susan was working up on the fifth floor tonight, but was off shift in fifteen minutes.
When the doors to the elevator opened, a tremor of dread came over me and I backed away.
“Hey, you getting on?” a man in a white coat said, holding the door open.
I shook my head then bolted for the stairs. Quivers ran through me as I thought of what Balen had said—cages. We were in cages hung from the ceiling.
I wandered the halls on the fifth floor and peeked in rooms until finally I recognized a woman walking down the sterile hallway. She had a large nose that curved up at the tip, a splatter of freckles on her cheeks, and wide, gentle hazel eyes. Her wide hips swayed back and forth, and the stethoscope looped around her neck swung with the motion.
I intercepted her before she walked into a patient’s room. “Nurse Susan? Can I speak with you for a second please?”
She turned and walked toward me. “Oh, sweetie, how are you?” She touched my arm with familiarity. “Danielle, right? Everything okay?”
I smiled. It was weird because I remembered bits and pieces of being at the hospital. The nurse had been kind and patient even when I’d screamed and freaked out over the doctor examining me. I’d nearly given him a black eye when he touched the wounds on my neck. They’d sedated me for a couple days until I calmed down. It was Nurse Susan who quietly explained the hospital’s findings and even stayed with me when the police came to ask questions.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Nurse Susan lowered her brows and pursed her lips together. It was like a scolding from a teacher who knew her student was lying. “Okay, I’m not fine. I’m having flashbacks. Bad ones. I just feel like I need to know more about what happened. Did anyone come visit me? You know, before I gained consciousness or maybe when I was asleep? Did you see anything . . . something strange maybe?”