by Nashoda Rose
My finger hooked the black silk material of her panties and her teeth tugged at her lower lip, eyes lighting up like a rainbow of brilliance.
I reached up and ran a finger down her cheek and across her upturned lips. So simple, to smile, and yet I couldn’t match it. It was too difficult when I knew the outcome of this night.
Slipping my hands beneath the edge of her silk panties, I tugged them off, then slid my hands up her inner thighs.
“Sweet Jesus.” The words tore from my throat as I ran a finger through the wetness between her legs. “So wet for me.”
Her fingernails dug into my shoulder blades as she panted and arched. “Oh God. More. More.”
“You’ll have more, baby. All of me.” I shoved my finger up inside her and said, “Once. Just once more.”
“Yes, God, yes.” She writhed against my fierce plunges, her head rolling back and forth on the pillow.
And it was fuckin’ beautiful. So damn beautiful.
I withdrew and her eyes flew open. “You need my cock inside you, baby?”
“Yes,” she panted.
My fingers weaved into her hair and held her still as our eyes met.
With one swift movement, I plunged my cock inside her and she gasped, eyes closing, back arching, and her thighs hugging my waist, taking all of me.
Rough. Urgent. Starved.
She met my thrusts with her own crazed need, nails raking my skin so hard I let out a loud growl.
“Waleron,” she said between gasps. “Oh God, Waleron. I can’t…. Oh God. Yes. Yes. I’m yours.”
Just my name emerging from her throat was enough to send me over the edge. It would probably be the last time I’d hear it pass her lips laced with passion. But it was mine to keep, that sweet sound of my name on her lips.
Her thighs clenched around me, then she spasmed around my cock and my restraint broke as my body took control over my mind.
I thrust harder. Faster.
Our bodies slammed together with a loud smack until every muscle tightened.
“Maitagarri,” I growled as my cock jerked and I came inside her. “Jesus.”
After several minutes of neither of us moving, she reached up and cupped my cheek.
It was then I saw the single tear trail down her cheek. I wiped it away with the pad of my thumb then lowered my head and kissed the wetness that clung to her flushed skin.
She sighed.
I stared at the one woman who had made me forsake my control. She’d suffered. I saw the faint scars on her skin and knew they had to be from Tarek.
It destroyed me to think that I could not go back in time and take away what she had gone through.
Had I just made it worse? By being with her, had I inadvertently placed one more scar on her with my own hand?
Fuck, yeah. But if I had to live without her, I needed this piece of her to survive.
“Waleron?” Delara asked.
I slipped from her succulent warmth and moved off her body to lie beside her. Already the coldness seeped back into me.
She rolled onto her side and her hand came to rest on my chest, her fingers doodling on my skin. She leaned over and kissed me, not on my mouth, but on my side, just below my ribcage.
My muscles tightened as I stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath and seal off all my emotions.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “Don’t close me out.”
I had to. It was the only way I’d be able to leave her.
I clenched my jaw. “I’m filled with darkness and rage, maitagarri. Nothing can come of what has happened here, Delara.”
Delara had always been strong, but after what happened with Tarek she was vulnerable. And I was swinging the final gauntlet.
“Don’t do this.” Delara rested her hand on my chest.
I slid out of bed and her hand slipped away and I immediately felt the emptiness. Fuck.
When I bent to pull on my pants, she sat up in bed, the sheet pressed to her chest, covering her nakedness. And damn it, she looked more luscious than I’d ever seen her.
“Our love can heal us both,” she whispered.
I zipped up and flicked the button through the slit, then straightened and looked at her. “I’m no longer the man you love. I am incapable of it.” My Ink being released had made certain of that, and now, the pills I took to keep my emotions contained cemented it.
“You saved my life.” Delara stood, dragging the sheet with her as she approached me. “You came when I needed you most. That is love, Waleron. Our love. Nothing can erase it or break it apart.” She reached out and linked our hands. “What is between us can’t be ended. I felt it the day we met. I felt it when you found me near death. I feel it now.”
“Everything has an end, Delara,” I said, letting her hand go.
It was not how I wanted us to end, but she was giving me no choice. “I saved your life because that’s my job. My oath to the Goddess. Nothing more.” I picked up my shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head.
“That’s not true. You escaped her when I needed you most. I was dying and—”
The next words ripped from my throat and made my stomach curdle. “I don’t love you anymore, Delara.”
Without looking at her, I strode to the door. Jesus Christ, why did this hurt so fuckin’ much? Because I love her. And hurting someone you loved was worse torture than anything Jasmine could have ever done to me.
“Damn it, I love you,” she shouted in a strangled cry. “I love you.”
I flinched, hand tightening around the doorknob.
Peering over my shoulder at her, I said in a steady, calm voice, “I will never love you again. You’re a Scar and I will protect you with my life—that is my oath. Nothing more.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath and in that moment, the last flicker of light inside me died.
I yanked open the door and walked out.
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 together,” Tor, the Wraith of Earth, said, and then nodded to Genevieve, the Wraith of Water.
The delicate blonde Wraith raised her hands toward 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 octagonal 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 as Genevieve’s hands weaved through the air.
The meeting had begun.
I fiddled with the candy dispenser in the front pocket of my black cargo pants as I looked at Mariana, the representative of the witches’ covens. She’d changed her hair—two dreadlocks now hung down either side of her face instead of three. The rest of her long, ebony strands looked like silk blanketing her back. But it was her eyes that caught my attention; the dark walnut globes swirled with foreboding.
Fuck, I hoped this meeting wasn’t because they’d discovered the vampire-slash-witch, Abby, was alive. I was supposed to execute her several months ago—I didn’t.
The Wraith of Fire, Edan, sat back in his chair, arms crossed, with an arrogant sneer on his face. The bastard had fucked Delara, and even though she’d been using him to gain access to the Deaconry so she could speak at Balen’s trial, it still pissed me off.
I had no right to be. I’d let her go twenty years ago.
Didn’t matter. I hated any bastard who touched her.
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 me and I tightened my grip on the dispenser. “Waleron, you’ve been a Taldeburu for centuries. A
well-respected Taldeburu. We wish it to remain that way.”
Christ. What the fuck was this about?
Tor cleared his throat as if struggling with his next words. “Tarek rises from Rest in two weeks.” My hand crushed the container in my pocket and pieces of plastic cut into my hand. “And we’re concerned.”
I should’ve taken more fuckin’ pills. “Tarek will kill her this time,” I said, my throat strained. “Delara must be found and brought into the Talde before he rises.”
I’d been searching for her for months. I knew she was alive because she’d contacted Rayne, our daughter. The daughter she’d thought was dead and I’d never known about until recently. The daughter conceived that night when I said goodbye to her.
Urtzi, the Wraith of Air, spoke. “Tarek has done his penance. When he rises he is not to be touched unless he warrants it.”
Fuckin’ Wraiths. I stood and slammed my fist onto the marble table. “He will come after her!”
Zurina settled her hand on my forearm, but before I could shove it off, she pulled away. After I’d escaped Jasmine’s prison, I couldn’t stand anyone touching me.
Except Delara. It was almost as if my Ink controlled that part of me, the part that craved physical touch, allowing no one near it and therefore me.
“And this is our concern. You’re irrational when it comes to the Scar Delara.” Tor put his hand up when Edan went to speak. Tor continued, “We’ve decided it best Delara join another Talde.”
“What?” I stood, my piercing gaze on Tor. No fuckin’ way. Tarek rising and Delara not under my protection… that was not happening.
“Waleron, sit down,” Zurina warned. “You’re showing them exactly what they’re here to condemn you for.”
She was right. I had to pull my shit together. I sat, leaned back in my chair, and took a long inhale before speaking. “I swore to protect her. She is my responsibility. My oath.”
Tor looked to Urtzi and then Genevieve, who paled. The Wraith of Water was sympathetic to all and had trouble dealing with volatile situations. My eyes flicked to the fountain and the bubbling water—Genevieve was upset.
“Your oath?” Urtzi’s voice was like a feather, soft and caressing. “Your oath, Waleron, is to the Goddess. To protect the Scars and humans.”
“Delara is a fuckin’ Scar.” Tor’s brows lifted and I knew why. I’d sworn. I rarely cursed out loud unless I was livid. Well, I was fuckin’ livid.
“Please, Tor, Delara belongs in Waleron’s Talde. She has been with him from the beginning. He taught her how to fight. Survive,” Genevieve, who sat next to Tor, pleaded.
“And how to fuck,” Edan muttered.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to respond because my only response was a fist to his face and that would land me in another prison.
Tor continued, “It has come to our attention that you plan to kill Tarek. Is this true?”
What the fuck? Who told them that?
Everyone knew I’d kill Tarek if he came after Delara, but killing Tarek regardless of if he came after her or not… that was against the law and not something the Wraiths would overlook, even from a Taldeburu.
“I never said that.” I hadn’t, but I’d sure as hell thought it.
Tor glanced at Zurina and Urtzi, then back at me. “Our law states—”
I interrupted. “I know what every single law states, Tor. And the law failed her. You didn’t see what that bastard did to her. He should’ve been executed, not sent to Rest.”
Uritz said, “He’s been in Rest for twenty years. That’s torture. Worse than death.”
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Tor stood, his face red and his brows low. “If you kill him without cause, it’s murder. And I know you’re considering it, Waleron. You’ll be condemned like everyone else. Do not think you’re immune.” He paused, then stated loudly, “It’s in Delara’s best interest and yours that she be removed from the Toronto Talde. If Tarek plans on coming after her, your Talde will be the first place he looks.”
“She can return to England and join mine again,” Zurina offered.
My eyes darted to Zurina. “No. Tarek has connections in England. Dangerous ones. She is safest with me.”
“So you can fuck her whenever you get the urge?” Edan spat.
“Jesus, Edan,” Mariana said, twirling a dreadlock between her fingers. “You’re such an ass. Get over it.”
“Edan,” Tor snapped. “Not a word. I warned you.” He turned back to me. “Spain. Xamien’s Talde. I understand you’d planned on sending her there months ago after the situation with the vampire Liam.” I had, but again, how did the Wraiths know that? “If Tarek makes an attempt on her life, he will be executed as is our law.”
I snorted. This was bullshit.
“Waleron, we do this to protect you and Delara. We know your connection to her is strong, but you cannot choose to protect her above all others.”
I stiffened. “I protect all the Scars. But Delara’s psycho ex is rising from Rest and will be pissed as hell that she testified against him.”
The floor vibrated beneath me and I met the Wraith of Earth’s piercing glare. Tor hated being challenged, but I hated being told what to do with my fuckin’ Talde. “Disobey us on this, Waleron, and your Taldeburu will be at risk.”
I froze. They threatened my Taldeburu? I’d sacrificed fuckin’ everything for them, for the Scars, for the Goddess. If they took my Taldeburu I had nothing to protect Delara. I’d no longer sit on the Deaconry. I’d have no control. No ability to Trace.
Zurina’s voice filtered in my mind. “Let me talk to them. Maybe I can convince them to make it temporary. If you push them too far, they will retaliate. You know this. Send Delara to Spain.” She glanced at my neck, her brows lifting. “And take one of the pills before you lose control of your Ink.”
My Ink snake slithered across my skin, awakening to my anger. I needed my steel room and more fuckin’ pills.
When I found Delara, and I would, I’d send her to Spain—temporarily. I didn’t like it. Fuck, I hated it, but if they thought for one second I’d allow Delara to permanently live with another Talde, they’d have to do a hell of a lot more than threaten my Taldeburu.
They’d have to kill me.
New Orleans
Tarek Rises in 48 hours
A trickle of blood slid down my naked thigh then pooled in the cleft of my knee before it dripped onto the porcelain tub. I bent, 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. My protection against the raw emotions I’d been trying for years to extinguish.
I hated it. God, I hated it.
But it was an addiction, the hold on me so tight that I was afraid if I stopped, I’d shatter into a thousand pieces.
Who was I kidding? I’d shattered a long time ago, I just held all my pieces in my hand. But now, they were slipping from my grasp and I was afraid once they did, I’d never get them back.
The mindweaving with Xamien helped numb the pain, although what I wanted he’d refused to do time and again. Erase Waleron. Take away my past. Forget and be able to finally live again.
God, I’d do anything to forget.
I placed my palms on the back of the shower wall, the hot water pounding into my back. “Stop. Just let me forget, damn it.”
It was like a cruel game. Falling in love then ripping it away only to bring him back and lose him again.
Was fate so cruel to have me love a man so deeply, only to lose him and never recover from the loss? Because that’s what it was. A perpetual loss. Feeling as if I struggled to breathe. Trying to reach the surface of the water, but being yanked under continuously.
“God, Waleron,” I whispered, leaning my forehead against the tiles.
I inhaled a ragged breath.
He was my savior.
My ruin.
<
br /> My strength.
Jesus, he was my everything. Everything. And without him, I was nothing.
I shoved away from the wall, the hilt of my knife still cradled in my palm. I stared at it for a second, blood clinging to the edge of the blade.
I closed my eyes then lowered the tip of the blade to my thigh, needing the release from the debilitating emotions.
I had to go back to the Talde. It was time. Tarek was rising.
It was getting worse, this tie between Waleron and me. It was knotted, and there was no way to undo it. The knot continued to tighten, strangling me.
Even the mindweaving no longer had an effect on me.
And Xamien knew it. The last time I’d seen him before I joined Rayne and Kilter in the Turks and Caicos, he’d warned me the mindweaving wasn’t working. He’d wanted me to stay with him. But staying with Xamien was dangerous if Waleron found out, and I’d never put him in that position.
I applied pressure to the knife and the tip sank into my flesh as though it was butter.
Deeper. It had to be deeper this time. More pain to end the pain.
“Drop the knife, Delara.”
My breath hitched, chin lifted, and my eyes darted to the tall, dark shadow on the other side of the shower curtain. The knife fell from my grasp and clattered as it landed in the bottom of the tub.
A tattooed hand shoved the curtain aside, the force yanking two of the hooks from the steel bar overhead.
I nearly fell to my knees as my eyes locked on him, and I quickly placed my hand on the wall for support.
Waleron.
For weeks my shack in the swamps of New Orleans had been my haven where none could locate me—even those with extraordinary capabilities. Obviously, I’d underestimated Waleron. And the bastard had concealed his scent.
He bent over the tub, grabbed my knife, and placed it into the nylon sheath attached to his belt on his black cargo pants. Then he stepped back and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and ankles, a casual stance. I knew better. There was nothing casual about him. Ever.
“How did you find me?” I carefully watched his impassive face, wishing he’d give some indication as to what he was thinking.
