by Nashoda Rose
“You must be Rayne.” He offered his hand.
My eyes went from his captivating eyes down to the vivid tattoo then over his broad, muscular shoulders to his arm that was stretched out toward me.
Delara stepped out of the dressing room, holding her clothes in one arm and her dress up with the other. “This is Waleron.”
My eyes darted over his left shoulder where Delara looked uncomfortable and tense with tightly pursed lips as she moved to lean against the frame of the stall.
“Oh.” Oh, my God. This was the guy who paid for my therapy. What the Scars called their Taldeburu. And he definitely had that leader look to him with his confident stance and penetrating blue eyes.
I hesitated before shaking his hand, but when I did, I wished I hadn’t. A strange wave of energy tingled through me, and it wasn’t warm. God, it was empty. As if a bolt of cold vibration shot through me then vanished. “Umm, nice to meet you. And thank you for the help.”
He nodded. “My pleasure. I was informing Delara that—”
“That he was leaving. Weren’t you?” Delara placed her hand on Waleron’s arm and both of them tensed. Was that from her touch or because she interrupted him?
He turned to Delara and she let his arm go. Then he stepped in to her. She dropped the pile of clothes on the floor, her eyes widening. His hand settled on her waist and the other cupped the back of her head, fingers bunching in her hair.
Delara gasped, one palm pushing at his chest. “Waler—”
His mouth slammed down on hers, sealing off any protest she may have had.
Holy shit. What was going on with them?
It was hot, intense, and over within seconds. But it had meaning, a hell of a lot of meaning, as if he was staking a claim on her.
He released her and Delara stood frozen, eyes wide and shocked.
A soft ringing sounded and he moved to the right of her, took his cell from his side cargo pant pocket, briefly glanced at the number, and then said to Delara, “Buy the dress, babe.” He turned to me. “Nice to finally meet you, Rayne.”
Then he answered his phone with an abrupt ‘Yes’ while he walked from the dressing room.
“Wow,” I said.
Delara muttered something unintelligible and picked up her clothes she’d dropped.
“Is Waleron your boyfriend?” I didn’t think Delara had a boyfriend.
Delara huffed. “Ha. Not his style. He just saves your life, has sex with you, and then tells you not to call.”
“Oh.” Okay, I was getting the vibe that he was a bitter subject. Delara obviously had a history with this guy, and it wasn’t a good history. Or was it? Damn, that kiss was more than just a kiss; it was magnetic.
Delara sighed. “He’s a good guy. I mean, he can be when he wants, and he’d protect you with his life. He’s just indifferent to love. He’ll do everything and anything to protect the Scars.”
No man kissed a woman like that and wouldn’t do anything for her.
I still had the dress I was going to try in my hand, so I hung it up in the empty stall next to Delara. “So, do you like him?”
“I loved him. Notice the past tense,” Delara said. “Like rip your heart out and put it on a silver platter kind of love. He ate it and then spat it back in my face.”
I didn’t know much about love. I hadn’t loved anyone, except maybe my parents and Serafina. “I’m sorry. That must…” ‘Say what you mean,’ Rebecca’s voice echoed. “That’s horrible! What an asshole.”
Delara burst out laughing. “Wow, Rayne. I didn’t see that coming. I like this new you emerging. I liked the old one, too, but I had a feeling you were holding back.”
I smiled. It felt good to say what I wanted without worrying about the consequences.
She eyed the emerald dress I’d picked out and nodded to it. “Oh, my God, that will look stunning on you. Try it on. And tonight, we’re having a girls’ slumber party.”
I didn’t know what a slumber party was, but it sounded fun, and I needed fun. No, I wanted fun in my life.
The dress was perfect according to Delara. I thought it was too tight and the color was overly dramatic. I’d always walked in the shadows, and drawing attention to myself wasn’t my thing.
But I bought the dress, because it made my eyes stand out and my skin glow and I liked that. Delara bought the sexy silver dress, and then we walked back to the gallery.
Delara called Anstice and Danni to invite them to the slumber party, but Anstice couldn’t come as she and Keir were going out for dinner. But Danni could and she brought four bottles of Balen’s prized red wine.
We lounged in our pajamas on the living room floor watching movies while the red wine flowed freely as did the giggling.
“Thor has the hottest ass,” Delara said, pointing at the screen.
“Oh, my God, yeah,” Danni said. “It was Balen’s eyes that captured me, but his ass is what kept me.”
Delara hooted with laughter. “Oh, please. Nothing can compare to Tac’s.” She turned to me. “Nickname for Waleron. I swear that guy must work out twenty hours a day.”
I blurted out, “Kilter’s is nice.”
Delara choked on her wine and it sprayed from her mouth. “Kilter? Haven’t really looked at his ass, considering I’m always watching for his fists coming my way.”
Danni giggled then proceeded to refill her wineglass. “Off-Kilter threw me in the shower with my pajamas on to get me to snap out of a bad funk. I was so pissed, but he helped me through a really rough time. He’s just a little—overwhelming.”
“A little?” Delara snorted. “The guy is a runaway train. And he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He saved my life, and well, he was nice to me,” I said. Both women had their eyes on me. “We got along in an odd sort of way. I don’t know. I trusted him. Kind of. He just helped, I guess.” God, I was babbling and stumbling over my words. Maybe because every time I thought of him my emotions were all screwed up.
Danni raised her glass. “Cheers to hot asses.”
We clinked glasses. No one mentioned what I’d tried to say about Kilter, which was a good thing.
He was a Scar and he hadn’t once tried to contact me or see me.
But that hadn’t stopped me from missing him every single day for six months.
I PACED THE WORN-OUT hardwood floor, waiting for him to arrive. Every so often, I looked over at the bed, thanking every single high-and-mighty spirit that she slept.
I shouldn’t have slept with her. If she hadn’t been pregnant, then maybe she’d have survived this. And now Waleron may have to kill her.
I was so fucked up thinking about the possibility of her death that I didn’t even hear, see, or scent Waleron enter the cottage until he was in the room standing behind me.
“How long has it been?” Waleron demanded as he walked past me and went directly to the bed.
I stopped pacing. “I don’t know. Six months. Eternity. Too fuckin’ long,” I said, taking a step toward the door.
Waleron didn’t turn as he said, “Don’t even think about it, Damien. Explain why I am hearing about this six months after the fact.” He leaned over the bed, his hand on Abby’s forehead.
“We thought—”
“We?”
Fuck. There was no way around this. “Jedrik, Delara, and I. Well, Balen knows about it, too, and Danni.” I swallowed. “And Anstice and Keir.”
“So everyone.”
“Yeah.” I started for the door. “I need to get some air.”
“Not until I have answers.” Waleron still had his hand on her forehead, probably trying to put her in DS—deep sleep. It would allow her peace from any pain—for a few hours. But her bloodthirst would overtake the DS soon enough.
“Abby is a witch.” I hesitated then added the part he’d be seriously pissed at. “From Trinity’s coven.”
Waleron’s eyes went icicle as he turned his attention to me. “I know exactly who she is. I want to know what the hell she’s d
oing in this cottage half-dead and in Transition.”
Shit. “It’s complicated.” Waleron glared. “She is carrying my child. Well—was until last night. She lost it.” That sounded so bad. “We’re here because she drank Liam’s blood and we’ve been trying to keep her from Transitioning.”
Waleron’s brows rose, but he remained silent. It was his Ink that caught my attention as its eyes blazed red and the snake slithered slowly around his neck. Shit, he was livid.
Then I told him everything that had gone down from Abby asking Jedrik for help, up to this moment.
Waleron never said a word. Never moved a muscle. Didn’t even blink until I finished speaking.
“And why has Liam not raised hell looking for her?” Waleron asked.
I shrugged.
“Seems unlikely he would let her walk away with no recourse, especially if she was important to him. And she must be in order to let her drink his blood and risk retaliation from us and the witches.”
“Don’t know.” Jedrik and Delara—who I suspected would both be getting a surprise visit from Waleron—could explain that one.
Waleron walked away from the bed and approached me. He ran his finger down his neck over the tattoo and the snake stilled. “Detox has never been done before.”
“But Balen—”
“Balen is a Scar and he had good reason to fight the poison. What does this girl have? Her child is dead. Her coven will not allow her to return after discovering what she’s done. Liam—most likely—will turn on her if she doesn’t Transition. So, tell me, what does she have in order to bring her through this?”
“Fuck, Waleron. I don’t know. I barely know the girl.”
“Then figure it out,” he growled. “She needs a reason to fight or it will eat her alive and then kill her.”
I shoved away from the wall I was leaning against. “I can’t do it anymore. Jesus, Waleron, she’s in so much pain. We should consider letting her…” Shit, I couldn’t say it. It was wrong, and yet I couldn’t watch her suffer anymore.
Waleron quirked a brow. “You believe it would be easier if you let the Transition occur?”
“Yeah. Shit, yeah.” Either that or kill her.
Waleron scowled. “Easier on you, perhaps. But she will be enslaved to Liam for the rest of her life—if he lets her live. And if she kills a human, then you may be the one to have to hunt her down and kill her. It’s not a life I’d wish on anyone. Least of all a girl who made a childish error in judgment, one of which you would like her to pay for with the rest of her life.”
I curled my hands into fists. “No. Fuck, I don’t want that.”
“Then give her something to live for.”
Jesus, have mercy on my fucked up soul, because the next words out of my mouth were going to kill me. “I’ll stay. For as long as it takes.”
Waleron gave a curt nod. “Good. Do not call Delara or the others.”
Shit.
He headed for the door and I moved back toward the bed, staring at the girl I just told a Taldeburu I’d save.
But I had no idea how.
MY STOMACH WAS TIED in knots, tingles tap danced across my skin, and my toes hurt from being squished in the pointed, black high-heels. But despite that, it was nice being dressed up and going out for the evening.
The gala was being held at the AGO, Art Gallery of Ontario, in one of their spectacular rooms. The ceiling was two stories high, and along each wall there were archways with red curtains draped and chandeliers hanging in each one.
It was magnificent, and if I wasn’t so nervous, I’d have been in awe. Well, I was in awe, but it was smothered by the nerves.
Waiters weaved through the crowd carrying trays of champagne flutes and a man in a tuxedo played live music on a white piano.
My dark green gown glimmered under the soft glow of lights and clung to my hips and swished against my legs. The back was cut in a sweeping half circle, matching the neckline. I thought it revealed too much of my cleavage—well, what little cleavage I had, but it was more than I’d ever had since I’d gained weight.
Delara looked stunning wearing the slinky silver gown that accentuated her toned figure. She wore tight silver bands around her wrists and a matching silver choker, leaving her skin bare above the strapless neckline. Her hair was untamed with its strands partially pinned up in loose twists, and her lips were painted bright red. Her eyes were smoky and dark, giving her a sexy, exotic appearance.
“Come on.” Delara leaned in to me, holding my elbow as she swept me into the fray. She grabbed two flutes off a waiter’s tray and handed me one. “Chug it,” she whispered, smiling. “It’ll help you relax.”
I tilted the glass and sipped, the light tingles of the champagne dancing across my tongue. It had a sweet, fruity taste to it and I liked it. Delara laughed when I chugged the rest.
She took my empty glass and placed it on a passing server’s tray and grabbed another two. “Okay, time to mingle.”
We chatted with customers from the gallery, some of whom I recognized, others I didn’t. Delara had no trouble with conversation, and after fifteen minutes and a couple more glasses of champagne, I didn’t either.
Jedrik showed up in a black tuxedo with a gorgeous woman on his arm, who looked at least five foot nine and I soon discovered spoke little English. Delara leaned in to me when Jedrik wasn’t paying attention to us and whispered, “Just how he likes it, less talking, more action.” Delara rolled her eyes and I giggled.
I. Giggled. I’d never giggled before.
We spoke with Balen and Danni, who looked like a couple out of a glamour magazine. Danni wore a sexy, simple black gown with a slit that went up her leg to mid-thigh with tiny sparkly beads lining it. Balen, who kept his hand in hers, wore a tuxedo better than any man in the room, even Jedrik.
There was no sign of the Scars’ Taldeburu, Waleron. But after meeting him, he didn’t appear like the type to socialize, more like watch from the corner of the room with those ice-blue eyes accessing, watching. I hoped he’d make an appearance for Delara’s sake because he’d never be able to take his eyes off her.
“I’m going to find the washroom,” I whispered to Delara.
She set her empty glass on one of the waiter’s trays. “Okay, I’ll come.”
We made our way toward the entrance of the room, which led into a hallway where the washrooms were more than likely located.
“Delara,” a man called, lifting his glass and making his way toward us.
She turned to me. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”
“Okay,” I replied and headed out of the gala and down the hallway. I didn’t really have to go to the washroom, but I did have to sit and take my shoes off because I couldn’t feel my toes any longer.
I smiled at a group of ladies I passed then quickened my steps when I saw a bench ahead where I could sit while I waited for Delara.
“Rayne.”
I gasped. My grip on the glass slipped and a hand reached around me and grabbed it before it dropped. His chest leaned in to me from behind and his warm breath wafted across my bare neck.
“Roarke,” I whispered.
His hands settled on my hips and he gently urged me around to face him. “What are you doing here?” I shoved his hands off my hips and looked over my shoulder for any of the Scars because I was pretty sure they wouldn’t like him being here.
“You look stunning, Rayne.” He stepped back, eyes travelling the length of me then back up to meet my eyes. “Absolutely stunning.” He reached forward to touch me again. When I glared, he stopped. “I’m proud of you.”
I hadn’t expected that and I wasn’t sure how I felt about him saying something like that. Roarke was a mystery, and right now, I was uncertain about his motives. “You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here.”
“We need to talk. There are things you should know.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to know anything, Roarke. Not from you.” What he brought with him was everything
I was trying to heal from, the compound, being used for my abilities, a world I wanted to forget.
His jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. “You need to hear me out.”
“I don’t need to do anything.”
He stiffened. “She will come for you, Rayne. The woman from the compound.” What was he talking about? “Give me five minutes. Then you can go back to your Scars and tell them everything.”
No. I couldn’t do this. Not now. “It’s not a good time. Maybe we can—”
“We need to do this now,” he demanded then grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. I stumbled on my heels and tried to pull back, but his grip was firm. “I have a feeling if I try to warn them, I’ll be dead before I have the chance.”
That was probably true. Roarke was a Grit and had worked for my husband, which meant he’d been a part of capturing Ryker and killing the other Scars. Delara let him walk once, but I doubted that would happen a second time. I still didn’t want to go with him.
“Roarke, let me go.”
He stopped. “We need to go outside. That Tracker friend of yours will pick up my scent in here.”
If Delara saw him with me, there’d be a scene, and I had no intention of ruining Danni’s night. Maybe I owed Roarke for all the times he’d tried to protect me in that place. “Okay. Five minutes. If I’m gone any longer, they’ll look for me.”
Roarke nodded and led me outside and off to the side of the large red A.G.O. sculpture. “They shouldn’t be able to scent me here.”
I slipped my hand from his and crossed my arms, meeting his eyes. Then I said what I’d wanted to say six months ago when I saw him.
“Why, Roarke?” I said. “Years you watched my husband abuse me. Years? And you did nothing.” He tensed and reached for my hand, but I shifted out of his grasp and continued. “Why didn’t you get me out of that place if you care so much?” Anger filtered into me as the emotions whirled. “Did you like knowing I couldn’t escape? Or did you enjoy watching Anton use me?”
“Fuck, no.” He ran his hand through his dark strands. “God, Rayne. It wasn’t like that.” Again he reached for my hand, and I again moved away. He sighed, bowing his head. “Damn it, I couldn’t. I tried to, but Rayne, I only stayed to protect you. If I left, he would’ve destroyed you. He didn’t know when to stop. His obsession was killing you. That’s when I hunted the Scars. To draw his attention away from you.”
