She heard him say once but it was a word, not an action. She had faith in what was between them—and it was far from just one night. How could he walk away after finally finding one another again? She’d hoped, no prayed, that he’d realize what they shared was beyond either of their powers to resist.
There was no question that Waleron had returned a different man, someone she barely recognized, with eyes cold and lacking the teasing glint she had known. In the Realm, she’d seen his fury, known probably before any other in the room that his torrid emotions could be calamitous. It was his new darkness she failed to recognize, an evil shadow that filled him as though something had eaten away at all his decency and left a cold, empty shell. In the Realm she saw his coiled snake tattoo shifting over his skin. She saw its eyes changing from black to red and its body slithering over his ear and she spoke telepathically, desperate to ease Waleron’s anger before he killed Tarek and the council punished him for it.
She suspected whatever happened to Waleron was so horrific that even she may never be able to handle hearing the truth. Her Waleron now came with this darkness living inside him and she was uncertain how to read it. But, when he stood at her door tonight and she caught a glimpse of the man she waited for her whole life, it no longer mattered. She would take him regardless.
Whatever he’d been through would take years to fade from his memory, maybe it never would. Always a private man, Delara knew he would have difficulty letting her in. But she was determined that this powerful man who had escaped the clutches of a Lilac to save her life would unburden his horror to her when he was ready. Until then, she’d be strong enough for both of them.
His fingers weaved into her hair and held her still as their eyes met. She saw his square jaw clench as he restrained himself from plunging into her with force. His erection pulsated at her entrance and she knew any other man would not be able to control his instinct to be inside, but this was Waleron and he was the magnificence of self-discipline. She figured he learned it because he was responsible for the Senses. He was impeccable when it came to protecting them and keeping his oath to the Goddess.
He squeezed hair again while his other hand stroked her breasts with a familiarity that needed no guidance. She was breathing hard, her urgency heightening as he waited to join them. She wanted to beg him to end the torment, but begging never worked with Waleron. Ever.
He plunged with one swift movement and she gasped, eyes closing, back arching and her legs wrapping around his waist, taking in all of him.
He was rough, urgent, and she met him with her own crazed need, gripping his broad shoulders. She pushed upward to meet his every thrust, her body awakening a fervor beyond her imagination. His neck muscles strained, eyes staring down at her as if he was memorizing every one of her expressions. She met his stare boldly, their bodies writhing together, sweat clinging to their skin and bringing them closer.
“Waleron,” she said between gasps. “Take me. Have me. I am yours.” His name slipped past her lips easily and she liked it. It felt like heaven being able to say his name and know that he was here. He was alive and in her arms.
His hands tighten on her hips, fingers driving into her flesh while his eyes showed a wild need and, for a flicker of an instant, she was frightened of him. No. He’d never hurt her. She loved him with everything she was and is—it nearly killed her to have lost him.
Just his name emerging from her throat was enough to send him falling over the edge. It would probably be the last time he’d hear it pass her lips with passion. He’d remember though. Always.
She jerked around him and his restraint broke as his body took control over his mind, making it impossible to stop his release barreling down on him, propelling him into a raging tornado of unbelievable torment. Gripping. Heightening. Sucking him under to a groan of heart-stopping ecstasy.
“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, as everything in his body became this woman’s.
She whispered his name again and again while her hand cupped his cheek. It was then that he saw the tear slide from the rim of her eye and he automatically wiped it away, then lowered his head and kissed the wetness that clung to her flushed skin.
She sighed.
He stared at the one woman that had made him forsake his control. She had suffered. He saw the proof of it within her, saw it on the scars on her skin and knew the faint cuts had to be Tarek’s work. It destroyed him to think that he could not go back in time with all the power he had and take away what she had gone through.
Had he just made it worse? By being with her, had he inadvertently placed one of the scars on her mind with his own hand?
“Waleron?” Delara asked.
He slipped from her succulent warmth and moved off her body to lie beside her. Already he felt the coldness seeping back into him. She rolled onto her side and her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers drawing patterns on his skin. Then she leaned over and kissed him, not on his mouth, but on his side just below his ribcage.
His muscles tightened as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath and his emotions that were floating high above him in an ominous, dark cloud.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “Don’t close me out.”
He had to. It was his only way to survive leaving her.
He straightened and pulled his shield down. “I am filled with too much darkness. I feel the rage inside me ready to snap and one day... One day I will and I will not have you anywhere near me when that happens. I will not. Nothing can come of this, Delara.” He noticed the flash of hurt pass over her face and it hit him square in the chest. He should’ve known better. She was vulnerable after what had happened with Tarek. God, he was so stupid.
“Don’t do this,” Delara said, her hand on his right shoulder, the opposite side of his snake.
“I have to,” he answered. He slid out of bed and immediately felt…alone.
When he leaned over to slip on his pants he caught a glimpse of her sitting up in bed. The outline of her luscious body glimmered in the moonlight shining through the window. It stole his breath away.
“Our love can heal us both.”
He stiffened. “I am no longer the man you love, Maitagarri. I am incapable of love.” His Scar being released had made certain of that and, now, the pills he used to control his Scar made certain.
“You saved my life,” Delara said approaching until she was a foot away. “You came when I needed you most. That is love, Waleron. Our love. Nothing can erase it or break it apart.” She reached out her hand and grabbed his. “What is between us is everlasting. I felt it the day we met a hundred years ago. I felt it when you found me near dead. I feel it now.”
“You know not of what you speak,” he said as he let her hand go. He had no choice. He knew he was going to have to be cruel in order to save her from himself. To end this. “I saved your life because that is my job. My oath to the Goddess. Nothing more.” He bent and picked up his crumpled shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “I was wrong to come.”
He strode towards the escape he had to take, putting his hand on the cold, brass doorknob. Why did this hurt so much? Because I love her. And hurting someone you love is worse torture than anything Jasmine could have ever done.
“I love you damn it!” She shot back at him.
He flinched. Christ. A part of him died at that moment, knowing what he had to do and hating himself even more for going through with it.
He had no choice. Without turning from the door, he said in a steady, calm voice, “I will never love you again, Delara. You are a Senses and I will protect you with my life—that is my oath.” He heard her intake of breath and in that single moment the last flicker of light inside him died.
He yanked open the door and walked away.
Chapter 1
The Realm, Present Day
Tarek Rises in 14 days
“For the excellence of nature, for the peace of all living and for the good of the universe, we join toge
ther,” Tor, the Wraith of Earth, said and then nodded to Genevieve, the Wraith of Water.
The delicate blonde Wraith raised her hands into the air towards the fountain in the middle of the room. It was of a woman and man entwined in one another’s arms. In one hand the man held a flame rising from his palm, and the woman had a flower tucked behind her ear. She had long flowing hair that billowed around them as if it had been swept up by a gentle breeze. A stream of water curved in an arc between their bodies, flowing into an eight-point marble pool with soft-pink pebbles on the bottom. The water from the spout was golden, but as it hit the pool, it became cerulean blue. The water from the spout turned blue, matching that in the pool as Genevieve’s hands weaved through the air.
The meeting had begun.
Waleron sat beside Zurina, a Senses Taster, Healer, and Visionary. He’d known her since he was a child as she’d been his mother’s best friend. Zurina he trusted, his mother he hadn’t. Zurina had a calm demeanor and was vigilant about her oaths just as much as he.
Waleron fiddled with his Pez dispenser as he looked at Mariana, the representative of the witches’ covens. He noticed she changed her hair—now having two dreadlocks hanging down either side of her face instead of three. The rest of her long, ebony hair looked like silk blanketing her back. But it was her eyes that caught his attention, the dark-walnut globes were swirling with disquiet. He hoped this meeting wasn’t because they discovered the vamp slash witch Abby was alive. He was supposed to execute her several months ago—he didn’t.
The Wraith of Fire, Edan sat back in his chair, arms crossed, with a self-righteous sneer on his face. Two years ago Delara and Edan were involved. The Wraith of Fire liked to throw them sleeping together in Waleron’s face whenever he had the chance. Considering Delara had used Edan to gain access to the council so she could speak on Balen’s behalf when he was being sentenced for drinking vamp blood, well the fool needed a wakeup call. Delara. Had. Used. Him.
Tor’s raspy voice echoed in the marble room. “This unexpected meeting has been called to address an issue that we’ve been made aware of recently.” Tor turned to him and Waleron’s hand tightened on his Pez dispenser, his body stiffening. “Waleron, you’ve been a Taldeburu for centuries. A well-respected Taldeburu. We wish to keep it that way.” Tor cleared his throat as if he was struggling with the next words. “We know Tarek is rising from Rest in two weeks.” Waleron crushed his Pez and pieces of plastic lay in his hand. “But what we didn’t know was that when Delara took off several months ago—and she does this often as everyone knows—you have done nothing but search for her.”
Waleron kept his voice calm and steady. “Tarek will kill her. She must be found before he rises.”
Urtiz, the Wraith of Air spoke up. “Tarek has done his penance and deserves to show he’s learned from his punishment.”
Waleron’s voice rose as he slammed his fist onto the marble table. “He will come after her!”
Zurina put her hand on his arm and before he could react she removed it. She knew he hated being touched by anyone.
“And this is the issue. Delara has made you act irrational.” Tor put his hand up when Edan went to speak. Good thing, because listening to Edan’s remarks would make Waleron’s irrational behavior come out full force. Tor continued, “We have decided that Delara moving to another Talde will resolve this issue.”
“What?” Waleron stood, his piercing gaze glaring at the Wraith.
“Waleron sit down. You’re showing them exactly what they’re here to condemn you for,” Zurina said.
Waleron didn’t sit down; he addressed the council. “No. I swore to protect her. She is my responsibility.” He’d made an oath.
Tor looked to Urtiz and then Genevieve who was paler than usual. The Wraith of Water was sympathetic to all and she had trouble dealing with volatile situations. Just seeing the bubbling water in the fountain was enough to know Genevieve was upset.
“Your oath.” Urtiz’s voice was like a feather, soft and caressing. “Your oath is to the Goddess. To protect the Senses and humans.”
“Delara is a Senses.”
“Please Tor, this isn’t right.” Genevieve sat beside him and placed her hand atop his on the table.
Tor ignored her. “It has come to our attention that you plan to kill Tarek. Is this true?”
Waleron hesitated. Everyone knew he would kill Tarek whether he came after Delara or not. “Yes.”
Tor glanced at Zurina and Urtiz, then back at him and sighed. “Our law states—”
“I know what every single law states, Tor. But you did not see what he did to her. No man does that to a woman and walks away unharmed.”
Uritz weighed in, “He’s been in Rest for twenty years. That’s torture.”
“If you kill him without cause it is murder. You will be condemned like everyone else. Do not think you are immune, Waleron.” Tor was now standing and his face was beat-red. “It is in Delara’s best interest to be removed from your Toronto Talde. If Tarek does plan on coming after her, your Talde will be the first place he looks.”
“She can come to mine,” Zurina offered.
Waleron’s eyes darted to Zurina and he shook his head. “No. Tarek has connections in England. Dangerous ones. She is safest with me.”
“So you can fuck her when you have the need to get laid?” Edan spat.
“Jesus,” Mariana said, twirling her dreadlock between her fingers. “You’re such an ass, Edan.”
“Edan.” Tor snapped. “Not a word. I warned you.” He turned back to Waleron. “Then Spain. Xamien’s Talde.” Tor decided. “If Tarek comes after her, then we will punish him. Waleron we do this to protect you and Delara. We know your connection to her is strong, but she is one Senses. You cannot choose her over all others.”
“This is bullshit,” Waleron said. He noticed Zurina stiffen and glance up at Tor who appeared equally as surprise by his swearing. “I protect all Senses. Delara happens to have a psycho ex-maite who will be rising from Rest and out for revenge.”
Tor’s voice grew deadly and Waleron felt the Realm’s ground shake. “Disobey us on this and your Taldeburu title is at risk. We will take it away if necessary.”
Waleron froze. They were threatening to take his Taldeburu away? He’d sacrificed everything for them, for the Senses, for his oaths. Maybe he’d acted irrationally spending so much time searching for Delara, but he was her Taldeburu. His oath was to protect her.
Zurina’s voice filtered in his mind. “Let me talk to them. Maybe I can convince them to make it a temporary move. If you push them too far, they will retaliate. Send Delara to Spain for now.” She glanced down at his hand where the crushed Pez dispenser sat. “Maybe you should take more pills, Waleron. It might help.”
She was right. His Scar was awakening because of his anger. He knew it by the burning on his skin, the fury stinging like poison through his blood stream. He needed his steel room and more pills.
When he found Delara, and he had no doubt he would, she’d go to Spain—temporarily. They were right. She’d be safer away from him until he killed Tarek. But if they thought he’d let her reside with another Talde permanently, they’d have to do more than threaten his Taldeburu.
New Orleans
Tarek Rises in 48 hours
A trickle of blood slid down her naked thigh. It pooled in the cleft of her knee then dripped onto the porcelain tub. Delara leaned forward, turned on the taps, and stepped into the cold spray, hissing as the water hit the fresh wound. It was a familiar and comforting pain, as if a squeeze from a mother’s hand—consoling and reassuring. This was her control, protection against her raw emotions.
Cutting was her weakness and she hated it, but trying to stop was trying to give up an addiction. It had a hold on her so tight that she was afraid if she let it go she would shatter into a thousand pieces. It got worse when she’d lost her child, Waleron’s and hers from their one night years ago. She’d run, hidden the pregnancy from him. Then the child
was born dead. That had put numerous cuts on her body. As did, twenty years later, finding out their daughter Rayne was alive and had been tortured for years by the hands of a cruel guardian, who also became Rayne’s husband. And the Lilac Jasmine had been behind it all.
Thankfully, their daughter was with Kilter now and expecting their first child. But when Waleron found out last year about her pregnancy, it had been catastrophic.
He’d banished her from his Talde, saying cruel things she feared he meant and vowing to never forgive her secrecy. Eventually he retracted his words, but the damage was already done. Had been done for years as he kept denying her, denying them, repeatedly.
Delara had fallen into the gutter time and again. A place she found herself in so often that she wondered if it was somehow intentional. Did she seek out emotional pain? Or was fate so cruel to have her love a man so deeply only to lose him and never recover from the loss?
Waleron.
She took a deep breath at the thought of him. Her savior, ruin, and strength. He was all three. Sometimes she was jealous of his emotionless, stoic face and cold, detached demeanor. As if...as if nothing affected him. Nothing placed a grip on his heart and soul.
Ironic that it was he who initiated this habit. The cutting.
She picked up her Talwar knife again, the hilt cradling in her palm as though part of her. She shivered as the dampness clinging to her skin cooled and she ran her hands up and down her upper arms. Only two more days, she thought, causing another shiver to course through her body for a different reason. Two days and then she had to go back.
Hurt yourself, the addicted voice said. Cut again. Deeper. Harder. Make it last for days this time. Just once more to end the pain that sat like a lead weight around her neck pulling her under the earth, suffocating and at the same time...welcoming.
She lowered the tip of the blade to her thigh, needing the sweet release from the debilitating emotions that were awakening inside her again. Just the thought of going back and facing Waleron made her return to this destructive habit. She hadn’t seen him since that day in the gallery when he recanted her banishment from his Talde. He thought she was running again. And she had run to Europe for a few weeks, like she always did when she needed to forget him. But then she’d spent months with Kilter and Rayne in St. Thomas until finally coming here. Her place of solitude. Where no one could find her. Where she could cut and try and drive her pain into the depths before she went back.
FALL (The Senses) Page 7
