Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)

by Nashoda Rose

  Maybe, but I doubted it.

  I was, however, pushing it this time. Hooking up with a Wraith was taboo, frowned upon, yeah, even against the rules, but the Scars and Wraiths were on the same side. Liam might have a truce with the Scars, but he was still the enemy, even if I was doing this to attain info.

  “I’ll cool it,” I said, avoiding his eyes as he stepped in front of me.

  “Say it again,” Jedrik demanded. “And bloody well look at me, Sass.”

  Well, at least he was back to using my nickname. “I’ll cool it.”

  “Too broad.”

  “Christ, Arrow.” But he knew me too well. “Fine. I’ll stop fucking Li—” I abruptly stopped, eyes widening as the familiar scent plowed into me.

  Jedrik grabbed my arm and propelled me toward the kitchen. “Waleron. Shit. He’ll scent Liam in the foyer and have this house in an uproar within seconds. Get the fuck out of here. Go home.”

  He dragged me through to the kitchen and yanked open the back door. The cool breeze swept through the room, causing the curtains on the windows to dance.

  I hesitated. “Jedrik. Don’t you dare take the hit for me.”

  He shrugged.

  I glared. “This is my shit. Promise me or I’m staying.”

  “Yeah. Fine. Whatever,” he said then shoved me out the door.

  I turned and ran.

  I heard Waleron shout my name a hundred feet from the house. He never raised his voice unless he was livid, and even that was rare, considering he was the master of control over his emotions.

  “Delara!” he shouted again.

  I stopped. No point running. It wasn’t like I could avoid him and I didn’t want Jedrik covering for me.

  I sighed and headed back to the house, the shrapnel in my heart digging a little deeper.

  “You see that? Fuck, I kicked ass,” Quill said as he drove down the road, the buildings in the compound blowing up one by one, domino style. The car weaved onto the shoulder as Quill looked in the rearview mirror, watching his handiwork. “Hey, this goes sour with Waleron, I was not here.”

  I shrugged. “My business stays my business.”

  “Well, they’ll be crawling up your ass the second you walk in the Toronto house with her in tow.” He gestured over his right shoulder to the backseat. “Don’t think Waleron’s going to play nice after you deliberately disobeyed his orders.”

  Yeah, well, Waleron never played nice.

  All the Scars would be in my face about this, but I couldn’t care less. I did what had to be done, and screw Waleron and anyone else who told me what to do. Ryker had known that and given me space. Now, our fuckin’ Talde was destroyed because of Rayne’s husband. Bastards had killed Sandor, Derek, and Ryker’s wife, his maite, Hannah.

  Now, I was holed up in Toronto with Keir, his woman Anstice, Jedrik, Delara, and the Scar Taldeburu, Waleron, who didn’t live there but was around often enough. And he was around because of some fucked up past he had with Delara, although that was never talked about.

  “You going to tell me who she is? And why I saw CWOs and humans in that place fighting on the same side.”

  I glanced over at the paper-thin chick huddled close to the car door, cheek leaning against it. Her hands were clutched in her lap, not relaxed because the tips were white from pressing them together so hard. Her expression was blank, eyes looking out the window, but I doubt she saw anything.

  “Nope.”

  Quill honked the horn at a sluggish van as he weaved around it. “Get off the bloody road if you can’t go the speed limit!” Quill was a Taster, meaning he had the gift of tasting emotions of those around him.

  In the compound, he would’ve tasted a putrid expulsion of milk a year after its expiry date if there were persons being tortured or suffering. The only one he’d noticed was Rayne.

  “Why the hell not?” he asked.

  “Don’t feel like it.”

  Quill snorted, pressed on the accelerator, and the car jerked forward. He was hell-bent on beating some kind of record as he drove like a maniac to the airport. I didn’t know the guy very well as he was from the West Coast Talde in Vancouver, but from what I did know: intense when need be, expert in explosives, and could detonate bombs using his mind—the very reason I’d contacted him. He was also considered easygoing, although he obviously had a pet peeve for slow drivers.

  “Fine. Then what’s the plan?”

  “No plan,” I said.

  “No plan?”

  “What’s there to plan? Got her out. Compound in flames. Not much else to plan.”

  Quill inhaled a long-drawn breath. He was a big guy, bulky big with tree trunks for legs and arms pretty much the same. But the guy was light as hell on his feet by the way he’d scaled that fuckin’ twelve foot wall like a cat.

  “Got to have a plan. The girl is obviously human and can’t stay with the Scars. Waleron will erase her—”

  I grated out, “Waleron doesn’t fuckin’ touch her.”

  Quill put up his hands briefly then lowered them back to the steering wheel. “Hey, trying to help out, asshole. Want some advice?”

  “Fuck, no.” I shook my head, knowing I was getting it anyway. Quill and I had been emailing for the last few weeks, and I realized he liked to ask questions and give advice.

  I liked neither.

  “Tell Delara about her first. Waleron likes her, maybe she can ease the blow.”

  “Don’t need a woman easing the blow.”

  “Yeah. You do. For this, you do.”

  I grunted.

  I ran my hand back and forth over my head before glancing at Rayne. Jesus, she looked like a beat-up kitten that had been starved for months. And what pissed me off was she looked worse than she had a few weeks ago. Dark circles under her eyes, thinner, if that was possible, and pale. Vampire pale.

  A strange feeling seeped into me and I knew what it was—guilt.

  Fuck.

  I never felt guilt. Ever. It was a useless emotion. I owned my actions and never regretted anything. Not anymore. It helped that I didn’t give a shit about anyone.

  I had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t my fault she’d married a jackass. But from what I’d researched on her husband, Anton Thurston had been her guardian since she was ten years old. Married her when she was eighteen. Sick bastard. He was three times her age and had been her parents’ friend.

  The SUV skidded to a halt and Quill slammed it into park before opening his door and hopping out. I got out on the opposite side, walked around the car, and then opened the passenger door.

  Rayne sat up and looked at me, but made no move to undo her seatbelt, so I leaned over her and unclicked it myself.

  “Let’s go,” I ordered, straightening.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice was hesitant and quiet.

  “Toronto.” I didn’t wait for more questions and took her hand, urging her out of the car.

  “I, ah… I don’t know if…” she glanced over my shoulder at the plane. “I don’t know if I should.”

  “You have family here?” I corrected myself. “Family that doesn’t beat you?”

  She shook her head.

  “A fuckin’ pet you can’t part with?”

  “No.”

  “Friends?”

  She hesitated before admitting, “Umm, no.”

  “Then you’re getting on the plane and coming to Toronto.”

  “Kilter, let’s go, man,” Quill called from the door of the plane.

  I tugged on her hand. She staggered and nearly fell to her knees. “Shit, babe.” I grunted as I stepped into her and picked her up in my arms. “You need to fuckin’ eat.” I told her that three weeks ago while we sat in the air duct. “The place we’re going, no one will hurt you. You can beef up, get yourself together, and then decide where you want to go. Good?”

  She was stiff in my arms, but nodded. “I, ah… I can walk now.”

  I ignored her as I continued to the plane, walked up the stair
s and down the aisle, and then placed her in one of the large swivel leather seats. I grabbed a blanket from the bulkhead and laid it over her.

  “Ah, thanks.” She clutched the edges and pulled it up to her neck before turning her head to face the window.

  I moved up the aisle to the four leather seats facing one another with a table between them.

  The plane belonged to the Scars and it was first class. The pilot was paid a shitload of money to be on standby and work strictly for us. He was human, so we were careful about using abilities and talking Scar business when he was around.

  “How is she?” Quill asked and plopped down into the chair across from me.

  “How the fuck do you think?” In shock and a walking corpse. And every time I saw her husband’s fingerprints on her neck, my gut twisted. They’d be purple and blue by tomorrow.

  “Hey, just asking, buddy,” Quill said, paused, then continued, because that’s what Quill did. “She’s going to need serious help. That place was fucked. Drugs. Laboratories. Beds with straps, and I’m talking metal ones, not fluffy nice straps for, you know… fun shit.”

  I grunted.

  Quill’s piercing blue eyes sparked with anger and strands of his reddish blond hair fell in front of his face as he shook his head. “A real bad taste in my mouth from that place. Don’t want to think about what that chick’s been through. She’ll need—”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Kilter, man, the girl is sick, and I’m not talking just physically, emotionally. It’s bad. I taste it, man.”

  “You think I don’t know that.”

  “How are you going to deal with it?” Jesus Christ, the guy didn’t know how to shut up. “The only person you’ve looked after is yourself.”

  Not true. There’d been a time when I looked after my family, my clan. “Yeah, well, for good reason. I’d be stupid to trust anyone. Did that. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Quill was too politically correct to bring up old trust issues. Shit, all the Scars knew I didn’t trust a single one of them. Torture spoke volumes, and I knew it all too well. Never again would I put faith in anyone—period.

  The doors of the plane shut, and the pilot announced takeoff.

  Quill nodded to my wound. “Bandage your shoulder before you bleed to death. I’d offer my services, but you’re a shithead and would refuse it anyway.”

  I shrugged. Yeah, I would. I didn’t like anyone touching me.

  Quill put his feet up on the seat across from him, put his head back, closed his eyes, and said, “Think I might spend a few days in T.O. See how this plays out.” Asshole. “Might be worth taking shit from Waleron just to watch him lay into you.”

  I ignored him, eyes on Rayne as the plane taxied down the runway. I couldn’t see her face, but saw her chest rise and fall evenly beneath the blanket.

  As soon as we were in the air, I unclipped my seatbelt and walked to the back of the plane, grabbed the first aid kit, and proceeded to wrap my shoulder. It was a minor wound—bullet went straight through, hitting nothing vital. Still, it hurt like hell and took me a while to wrap it one handed.

  Quill was right. I’d never looked after anyone but myself. I was morally selfish. But I went back to that compound. For her. I’d convinced myself it was because I wanted to kill her husband, and I did. But I’d gone back for her. Killing her husband had been a bonus.

  I shoved the rest of the bandage material in the box, put it away, and then walked down the aisle to Rayne. The blanket had slipped to her chest and I noticed goose bumps on her neck. I pulled the blanket up and my knuckles grazed the curve of her jaw.

  My heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that?

  She was sick, abused, and here I was feeling… something. What was wrong with me? She was a skeleton. I hated women like that. I liked something to grab, a healthy body I could feel beneath me as I drove into her. A real woman, not a stick with a pulse. Didn’t even know why I was thinking about touching her at all.

  But as I walked back to my seat, I realized it hadn’t been a sexual attraction I’d felt. It was something else entirely.

  I fuckin’ cared.

  Jesus.

  My eyes shot to Quill who was looking at me, full-out grinning.

  I grunted, slammed the window covering down, sat, and then leaned back and closed my eyes.

  THE ANGER SIMMERED AS I waited for Delara to come back. My shout had woken the entire house and they all ran into the foyer within seconds. Keir, Anstice—Keir’s maite, Hack—his brother, and last, Finn—the Newfoundland dog, trailing behind with slow, lumbering strides. Jedrik was already downstairs.

  I was here because a human required Anstice’s healing ability. A cop had a run-in with a few CWO Worms. The Wraith of Air, Urtzi, had contacted me when he sensed the cop lying paralyzed in an alley. No surgeon could ever make him walk again, but Anstice’s healing could, and he was a good cop. I’d erase his memories of the Worms and of us after he was healed.

  I hadn’t expected to walk in the door and scent vampire. Then the distinct combination of Liam, Delara, and sex.

  Now we were in the living room waiting for her to get her ass back here. Jedrik sat on the leather couch looking uneasy as hell as his leg bounced. Keir leaned up against the bookcase, Anstice beside him, and Hack, who fiddled with his cell phone, hovered next to the stone mantel.

  “Shouldn’t we be going?” Anstice asked.

  “Need to talk to Delara first,” I said. “She’s on her way.”

  No one spoke, but I felt the tension in the air.

  The kitchen door slammed and every muscle in my body tensed. Delara’s footsteps were slow and even as she walked across the ceramic tiles into the living room.

  She stopped, eyes meeting mine.

  I waited. Needing a few seconds to calm the fury that ran hell-bent through my body.

  She was first to look away. Good.

  “Why did I detect Liam as soon as I entered this house?” I asked.

  I watched her for shifts in movements, the obvious gestures that would tell me she was lying. Her thoughts were blocked, as were Jedrik’s, meaning they were hiding something.

  Definitely uneasy, but the most recent time Delara was anxious around me ever since that night twenty-one years ago.

  A night I regretted.

  And yet, a night I couldn’t forget.

  “I went to see him,” Jedrik said, getting up off the couch while avoiding everyone’s eyes.

  Lying big time. Typical. Jedrik would cover for Delara even if it meant his own demise.

  I raised my brows. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, you see Liam is up on all the gossip and—”

  “I was with him,” Delara interrupted. I knew she’d never let Jedrik take the fall.

  Anstice paled, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Keir’s arm tighten protectively around her. My own emotions were ready to turn this place into a tornado. I reached into my back pocket and took out my candy dispenser and popped out a white pill, tossing it in my mouth.

  I needed a minute to gain control over my voice before I spoke. Delara refused to look at me, and she fiddled with the pockets on her cargo pants.

  “And?” One word at a time. That’s all I could manage.

  “I asked her to go,” Jedrik said. “I heard…” He paused, eyes shifting side to side. “Well, there’s a rumor a witch is hanging around Liam’s club.” He sat, then quickly changed his mind and stood again.

  Lying again. The rumor was true, but that wasn’t the reason.

  I knew Delara was struggling with us being apart. It was my fault. I should never have caved in to my desire, yet on occasion, all self-control faltered. I knew how she felt—damn, I knew how I felt—and it magnified our problems ten-fold.

  “He’s lying,” Delara announced. Jedrik opened his mouth, but one scowl from Keir had him sitting back on the couch with his head bowed and shaking it back and forth. “I was with him.”

  “Why?�
� Every muscle in my body tensed.

  And then it came, slamming into me like a meteor. “I’m fucking him.”

  My stomach twisted.

  Words were lost.

  My Delara. The woman I couldn’t have but wanted. The only woman who could touch me without me freaking out. The woman I didn’t deserve and would destroy if we were ever together again.

  I’d known the truth as soon as I entered the house, but until she said it, I’d ignored what my senses had told me.

  I wasn’t the only one who looked shocked. Jedrik was pale and Hack had stopped playing with his cell, mouth gaping.

  Anstice eased from Keir’s embrace and walked over to Delara. She stood next to her as if she was going to shield her from my wrath.

  “Are we done?” Delara asked. “‘Cause I’m beat and need a shower.”

  “Jesus Christ, Delara,” Jedrik said and moaned.

  “Waleron, maybe this conversation should be done in—” Keir began, but was cut off by Hack.

  “Are we talking the vampire Liam?”

  Keir gave him a shut-the-fuck-up glare.

  Anstice stepped closer to Delara so their shoulders touched.

  Finn moaned as he flopped on the floor.

  I was so pissed off that I couldn’t speak. Edan and now Liam. What was she doing? A vampire? Our enemy. If the Wraiths got hold of this, they’d force me to put her in Rest.

  “Your blood?” I asked.

  If she allowed Liam to drink from her, I’d have no choice but to put her in Rest, and that would be the last fragile hold to my existence.

  “Of course not,” she replied, and the vise on my heart—if you could call it a heart—eased a minute amount.

  I gave a curt nod.

  How could I stop her from self-destructing? I saw it every time I looked into her eyes, the pain, and the hurt. If I could, I’d stay away from her, but that was impossible for more reasons than her being a Scar.

  I had to get the fuck out of here before I did or said anything I’d regret. “End it.” I shifted my gaze to Anstice. “Let’s go.”