by Nashoda Rose
“It is against Scars’ laws. You’re not a fuckin’ Scar,” Damien said.
Shit. I had to tell him. We were getting too close to my birthday. “Yeah, but—”
His eyes shot to mine and they blazed with anger. “What the fuck do you want from me, Abbs? I can’t give you that promise. End of discussion.”
No, it wasn’t. I sat up, but kept one hand on his chest. “So you’re going to let me become something evil? Something you hate? You’d rather I take your blood and go through the Transition, then what? Take the pleasure in killing me as a vampire? Because you know I’ll kill a human. You goddamn know it.” I pounded my fist into his chest. “You don’t get to decide, Damien.” My fingers curled into a fist in his T-shirt. “Do you know what I’ll be able to do as a vampire? Do you know what happens when I turn twenty-five—?”
Damien threw me to my back and was over the top of me in a second. His hand grabbed my chin so hard I winced and couldn’t speak. His cold stare drove into me like daggers as he said, “End. Of. Discussion. Abigail.”
His cell rang and he jerked his hand from me and climbed off the bed. Then he reached into his back pocket and took out his cell. Tapping on the screen, he held it to his ear. “What?”
I tried to hear the conversation on the other end, but whoever it was talked too swiftly and the voice was muffled. Damien said nothing, merely listened then hung up.
“Damien?”
He wouldn’t look at me, merely turned on his heel and stalked from the room. I heard him pace back and forth for a few minutes, and then the front door opened and slammed shut.
The front door.
I panicked. My heart raced and my breath came in short gasps. Had he left me?
Was he leaving me here alone to die?
I didn’t want to die that way. Not alone. Not without him.
But I deserved this fate. To die alone and cold, struggling for each breath, thirst so intense that it strangled me. I deserved Damien’s hatred and condemnation for putting him through months of this.
I lay on my back. Hoping to hear the door open. Praying he’d come back any minute. It never opened. Minutes turned into hours and still Damien didn’t return. By nightfall, he still hadn’t returned to put the chains on me.
And then the blood-craze took control and Damien was forgotten, everything was except the rage for blood.
I HEADED BACK DOWNSTAIRS to the Tomb, still reeling that Rayne was a Scar. Fuck, it was great news and yet it bothered me because it put Rayne in danger, and that was the last thing I wanted and not what she needed.
I’d sensed something in her. Something different. Shit, her emotions had filtered into me when she’d been in the shower after I first brought her to Toronto and then again when she freaked over Ryker being in the sub-basement. It also explained why I had trouble reading her thoughts.
Fuck, that’s why she’d been so fuckin’ important to Anton.
Jesus. He had to have been using her for her ability, whatever that was. Her weight loss had dulled her emotions and, along with it, her ability. That’s why I hadn’t known she was one of us, but knew there was something different with her.
Waleron’s words repeated in my head. Did I save Rayne because I never saved Gemma? Was I trying to fix my past through Rayne?
No. It was different. She was different.
I stopped outside her room, hand on the doorknob, when I heard the shower turn on. I walked over to the pool table and racked the balls then grabbed a cue from the wall and leaned over the table.
“Hey, buddy.”
I smashed the cue into the white ball and sent it flying across the room to crash into a glass side table. I threw the cue onto the table and straightened to look at Tye jogging down the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing here, asshole?”
Tye was taller than me, not as muscular, but agile, and the smartest guy I knew, although his appearance didn’t suit that. He had a brow piercing, streaked blue spiked hair, and wore ripped jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black leather jacket.
“Waleron called Xamien asking for some help. I volunteered.” Tye walked over and grabbed the white ball that had settled on the floor amongst the shards of glass. “Nice one.”
He was a reminder of all that went wrong centuries ago. He’d been responsible for protecting Gemma when I was away from the castle. He failed. I could hold a grudge for eternity, and Tye didn’t take the hint that I held him accountable. “Fuck off. I don’t need your shit right now.”
“No can do, buddy.” He plucked a pool cue from the wall rack then chalked it. “Heard Ryker isn’t doing so good.” He shook his head. “Hannah was something special.” Tye set the chalk down on the edge of the pool table. “Wish I could’ve been there to kill that Anton bastard myself.”
I didn’t say anything.
Tye put the white ball back on the table, took my cue off, then bent and lined himself up for a shot. “How’s the girl? Rayne? Heard she got—”
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I barked.
Tye shot the white ball, which hit the green striped, sinking it into the left corner pocket. “Lighten up. Just asking. Heard she went through some major shit. Also heard she’s a Scar. What is she? We need a Healer. Xamien has been searching for years for another Healer. She could live in Spain with—”
I snapped. Tye talking about Rayne sent my anger into overdrive and funneled my powers into my eyes. They burned and brightened, pulsating as they focused on Tye.
“Whoa, man.” Tye straightened, threw the cue down, and stepped back while holding up his hands. “Shit, what’s your deal?”
“My deal? My fuckin’ deal? You son of a bitch. You let her go with Ulrich. You sent Gemma to her death, but not before my brother raped her. She was innocent. She was sweet and innocent and you destroyed that. You destroyed her.” I stalked toward him and Tye backed up until he was against the wall. “I loved her. I promised her she’d be safe. I swore to her everything would be okay.” I grabbed him by the shirt and pressed him into the wall.
“Jesus, Kilter, I told you. We told you. It didn’t go down like that,” Tye said, hands on my arms. “For once in your life, listen to me. Listen to the truth about Gemma.” His eyes bulged as I pressed harder into his chest. “Kilter. Gemma and Ulrich… she left with Ulrich willingly. She never loved you, man.”
I slammed his body into the wall and the drywall cracked under the pressure.
“Think about it.” He coughed and pulled at my arms. “Clear your goddamn head and listen to me. It was a setup. She was in love with him. She knew about the Scars, and Ulrich promised to change her into one of us. She knew you’d never make her a Scar. Shit, you kept what you were from her.”
“No,” I shouted and slammed Tye into the wall again. There was a sharp crack and Tye groaned. “You’re fuckin’ lying.”
“We tried to tell you when you escaped Ulrich, but you were crazed. Every fuckin’ time we mentioned her name or Ulrich’s, you lost it.” Tye met my eyes and I tried to shake off what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe it. He was lying.
I never heard her approach, but I felt her hand on the small of my back and the other on my arm that held Tye against the wall.
“Kilter,” she whispered.
“Get out of here, Rayne,” I warned.
“Rayne. Get Keir,” Tye said.
I tightened my hold on him. Blind rage tore through my mind and body, the horror of my past still fresh from six months in Rest and seeing it over and over again. Nothing else mattered except destruction.
“Kilter, please,” Rayne said.
The warmth of her hands spread across my body, causing a warm glow to heat my insides. The rage faded as if the sparks of light burned it away.
“What the fuck?”
My breathing calmed and my pulse slowed as my muscles relaxed and the anger eased. What the hell was going on? How was this possible?
I looked at Tye who I held against the wall, his face strained and blood
dripping from the corner of his mouth.
What the fuck was I doing?
I released Tye and staggered back several steps until I was up against the pool table. “Rayne? What did you do to me?” But I knew, she took my anger away.
She came toward me and placed her hands back on my arm then turned to Tye. “Tell him what he needs to hear,” she urged. “I can keep the anger away.”
“What?” What was she talking about?
“Tell him,” Rayne insisted.
My eyes shifted to Tye, who didn’t say anything.
“He needs to hear the truth,” she urged while looking up at me before back to Tye.
Tye wiped the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand then nodded. “Gemma was in love with your brother, Kilter.” Jesus. A sharp stab hit me and I wanted to dive at him again, but Rayne and whatever she was doing to me kept my head calm. “Don’t you remember how she looked at him? The way she was always flustered around him.”
“No. She loved me. I fuckin’ loved her.”
“I know you did. But she blinded you. The signs were there. We just never saw it, until it was too late.”
Numerous times she’d appeared out of nowhere, her cheeks flushed, dress and hair in disarray. I’d thought she was blushing because she’d seen me. That she’d been hurrying to greet me. I’d thought it was sweet that she was nervous around me.
No. She hated Ulrich—she told me she didn’t trust him—that he looked at her weird. Could it all be a lie?
I shook my head. “No. He tortured her. I heard her screams.” But without the rage filtering through me, I saw the truth. Ulrich never tortured her in front of me. All I heard were her screams. If Ulrich wanted to make me suffer, why hadn’t he tortured her in front of me?
“Tell me the rest,” I said to Tye. Rayne was right, I had to hear this whether I wanted to or not.
Tye smoothed out his shirt and winced when his palm touched where I’d held him against the wall. “We thought you were dead. Ulrich and Gemma played it so well, the remorse, the tears. I’m a Taster and I could taste sorrow all over Gemma. Found out later that they’d killed Gemma’s mother so she’d feel sorrow and we wouldn’t pick up that it wasn’t you she was sad about. Ulrich, being a Reflector, could take on any emotion, so there was no way to tell.
“A few weeks after you disappeared, Gemma asked to be taken to where Ulrich found your horse’s body and where he said you were thrown over the cliff. Ulrich was the only one to know where it occurred, so he was the logical choice to take Gemma.”
“While I was being tortured in some hellhole.”
Tye nodded. “None of us trusted Ulrich, so I followed them, to make certain she was okay.” I jerked at the knowledge. He had? Fuck, I’d hated Tye for so long. Blamed him for Gemma being killed. “That’s when I saw them. They were laughing, and then, fuck man, he kissed her. Ulrich must have heard me. He was a Reflector, so he probably felt how fuckin’ pissed off I was. Gemma—” he raised his shirt and I saw a small scar just below his left pectoral, “—threw a knife at me. It went right through my chest. I fell and knew they’d be on me any second. They couldn’t risk leaving me alive, so I slowed my heartbeat. Your brother stabbed me again in the abdomen then hid my scent by dousing me in horse shit. My horse saved my life. It galloped home and they sent a search party to find me.
“When Ulrich heard I was alive, he and Gemma took off. We didn’t know if he’d lied about your death, and we weren’t taking the chance. So we contacted Scars everywhere and we began our search for you.” Tye bowed his head and said quietly, “We found Gemma’s body about a year after they ran off.”
Fuck. Gemma screamed for weeks then nothing. But after a month or two, the screaming started up again. Ulrich taunted me with her supposed torture. After a while, it ended again.
“Even Waleron couldn’t control you long enough to make you listen once you escaped.”
He’d put me in Deep Sleep twice and Rest once. After ten years of torture, just mentioning her name or Ulrich’s sent me into a wild rage.
Tye continued, “None of us wanted to have to kill you just to force you to listen. So we decided to let it be, that maybe it was better you believed Gemma loved you.”
I’d been crazed when I finally escaped Ulrich. Destructive. Alone and filled with hatred and loss. Mourning Gemma. I spent so many years mourning that bitch.
“Jesus, Kilter, I’m sorry. I don’t know if it’s better you know the truth or not, but it’s the truth. We never abandoned you. You were our strength in the Talde.” Tye shook his head and headed for the stairs. He paused, hand on the railing. “We fuckin’ loved you, man.”
I WAS SHOCKED. AND hurt. Hurt because of Kilter’s pain. Being abandoned by those he’d protected for years. He thought they’d left him to die while his brother tortured him for years. Then believing that the woman he loved had suffered a horrible death.
God, no wonder why Kilter was so crass. Why he mistrusted. Everyone he cared about had betrayed him. His brother, the woman he loved, and he thought the Scars, his friends.
It was at this moment I knew I loved him, not because I pitied him, but because I understood him. I found the piece of Kilter that had been broken off. Fragmented. The piece that cut so deep that he’d been unable to repair.
But his past—my past—that made up who we were now. We were both broken in different ways by those we trusted. But it’s what brought us together.
I laid my cheek on his chest and traced the tatts running down his arm with the tip of my finger. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much, but there were no other words, and Kilter wouldn’t want anything more.
“Yeah. Me, too,” he replied quietly. He rested his chin on the top of my head and his arm snaked around my back, holding me close.
It had been a long time since I’d used my ability, and I’d never planned to use it again. But seeing Kilter holding Tye up against the wall, the rage so intense, I felt it like a suffocating fog in the air. It had been overpowering, and the pain ran so deep that he couldn’t even see clearly.
As soon as I touched him, his emotions hit me all at once in brilliant colors, but there was no beauty in it. It was violent, like a rainbow set in flames. I’d never been so overwhelmed by such intense emotions before, and I’d been uncertain if I’d be able to calm him.
“Babe? You okay?” He tensed, arm tightening around me.
“Yeah.” I was. Just lightheaded. It came with using my ability.
“Look at me.” His hand cupped my chin and he tilted my head up; then he scowled. “Fuck. You’re not okay.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just a little weak. It’s you I’m worried about.”
He grunted. “Babe, been living with this shit a long time. Now, it’s over.”
I frowned because it was never really over, just pushed back to the corners of your mind.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
Before I could object, Kilter scooped me up in his arms, strode across the room, kicked the bedroom door open then closed, and carried me to his bed.
“Kilter, I’m good. Really.” I was, but I was getting Kilter would always be overprotective. That was ingrained in him, one of the pieces that made up who he was. And I wanted that piece, too. I wanted all his pieces.
He ignored me as he gently lowered me to the bed and sat on the edge. “So you’re a Scar with a kickass ability. Were you thinking of telling me that bit of information?”
“No,” I said. His brows lifted. “I don’t like using my ability.” I hadn’t intended to ever use my ability again, but I was realizing I couldn’t hide anymore. I didn’t want to hide, because hiding was weak and I was doing everything I could to be strong.
“He make you use it?” Kilter asked.
I nodded. I knew he was talking about Anton. “Over and over again until I passed out.”
Kilter’s fingers curled into the sheet and his lips pursed together. “You shouldn’t have used it on me.” His voice was tight a
nd words harsh. He also wouldn’t look at me.
I lay my hand on his arm. “That was my choice. I never had that choice before, Kilter. My ability had always been a tool. A weapon. Research. But using it to help you was different. It felt right. It felt like what it was meant to be used for.”
He was quiet for a minute; then he looked at me. “Never felt anything like that before. Fuck, babe, it was like you sucked out all the rage and replaced it with warmth and calmness. Even my heart rate slowed. It was incredible.” He leaned into me, resting his palms on either side of my head on the bed. “But I don’t want you to use it again.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Did you not just tell me you don’t like using it?”
I nodded.
“And did you not just say that bastard forced you to use your ability until you passed out?”
“Umm, yeah.”
“Then don’t use it.” His voice softened. “You hid your ability. You hid that you’re a Scar. You did that for a reason.” I did. “Waleron knows, which means everyone does.”
Shit. “They do?”
He nodded. “I suspect for months.”
Months? Delara knew for months? “But they never said anything.”
Kilter lightly stroked my cheek with his knuckles, his eyes on my lips, which parted as he did it. “Like you said, your choice. Waleron may be a cold bastard, but he won’t force a Scar to fight or use their ability.”
“Oh.” Okay, that was good to know. “Kilter?”
“Right here, babe.” He smirked and I liked that. I liked that a lot because Kilter didn’t smirk and it was cute and playful. Another piece to hold in my hand.
I breathed in his scent and reached up to cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer, so his chest was pressing into mine. “I’ve never had sex with a man I desired before.” The color drained from his face and his body stiffened. “I wouldn’t even call what I had as sex, really.” His brows lowered and eyes darkened. “What I feel for you, what my body feels, I can’t explain it. But maybe it’s not meant to be explained because it’s a feeling. And I like that feeling. I want more of it. I want more of you.”
