Delara raised her brows and cocked her hip, but didn’t say anything.
Roarke grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side. His hand reached up and caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand as if memorizing every contour. He looked so haunted, with those dark, impenetrable eyes. “Will you consider my offer, Rayne?”
To be locked up by another man? No. Never.
As she peered into his eyes, she saw compassion and softness. If she were in a different place in her mind, if she could stop running and face her fears, maybe she could learn to trust Roarke. Right now, she had to find her own strength. Decide if she wanted to fight what was destroying her mind and body.
Roarke didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he took her hand, slipped a piece of paper in her palm and closed her fingers over it. “If you ever need me.” He closed his eyes briefly, leaned forward and kissed her forehead, soft lips lingering. He stepped back, bowed his head to Delara and walked away.
“Charming, isn’t he?” Delara said. “That’s a GQ’s greatest asset. Best to remember that. He work for your husband?”
Rayne gave a single nod. She wanted to forget. Drown out everything until her black void was all she had left. Destroy the emotions that made every breath a painful one.
“I can’t let you leave, Rayne.” She leaned up against the gate and half smiled. “Yes, I was sent to stop you from running. I’m asking if you will listen and then decide.”
“I can’t.” When she saw Delara’s expression falter and her body tense up, Rayne continued, “I can’t go into a rehab center.”
“Kilter told you our intent?” Delara raised her brows as if surprised. “Waleron would only send you to the best place in the world. Everyone there is for your benefit, but we changed—”
She was already shaking her head. “No. No, I can’t.” Another compound. The memories were too fresh. Too real. She couldn’t. She inched back a step. Then another.
“Rayne, Waleron’s decided that perhaps you’d like to live at my friend’s art gallery with me. It seems Kilter changed the Taldeburu’s mind about a rehab center.” Delara winked. “Go figure.”
He kept his promise. She closed her eyes for a half second and took a long ragged breath.
Where was Kilter? Why wasn’t he here? Why wasn’t he telling her this? It was hard to believe he’d just let her walk away. Or was his promise to protect her a lie? Like the one on the roof. Was him caring all pretense?
But he had kept her from being locked up again. She glanced back at the house, hoping to see him. Afraid to see him. Needing to see him.
A vacant emptiness settled inside her when he failed to appear—a familiar black void that had become her solitude and her demise.
She was alone again.
Chapter 9
“Danielle’s apartment is above her art gallery. Balen, that’s her other half, bought a house in the Rosedale area, so I’ve been crashing in the place. It has two bedrooms, small kitchen downstairs, living room and one bathroom.”
“Are you sure she won’t mind? Or you?” Rayne asked. Relying on others was the last thing she wanted to do, especially if they were Senses, yet here she was going to live with one. God, what was she doing? Why did she feel so alone? An ache sat in the pit of her stomach, and she knew what it was from—Kilter. She missed his strength, his solid resolve. He had become her safety net.
“Okay, that’s the last time you can ever ask that.” Delara reached over and put her hand on hers. “It’s perfect. I like the company and you need the company.” She held up her hand when Rayne went to object to the last comment. “I know we haven’t discussed this, but you’re pretty screwed up.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, I am too, so lean on me for as long as you like and it goes both ways. Deal?”
Delara held out her hand and Rayne stared at it for several seconds before she finally took the offer. “Okay. But as soon as I get a job, we’re splitting everything.”
Delara nodded. “Deal.”
Delara parked on Queen Street, paid the meter and then ushered Rayne into Danielle’s gallery. The first thing Rayne noticed was the enormous portrait on the white wall opposite the entrance.
She stopped dead, her eyes staring at the magnificent man with rainforest eyes. Wow. It looked as though he was staring right into the depths of your soul. Wet strands of hair hung down the sides of his deep cheekbones with one teardrop in his left eye. The brush strokes were bold and at the same time, the subtle mixing had softened the course roughness of his features.
“Danielle used to paint Balen all the time. Long story,” Delara said. “She’s a brilliant artist.” Delara tugged her further into the gallery. “Danielle? Hey, we’re you at?”
A crash sounded behind the wall with the portrait on it and then a giggle. An orange cat came careening around the corner, slid into an easel and then made a dash for the stairs.
“Stop. Balen, please.” A petite woman came out from behind the half-wall readjusting her clothes. She was wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and a white T-shirt that had red and brown paint splatters all over it. Her auburn hair was curled up around a pencil revealing an oval face that was sporting a blush on both cheeks.
“Delar, hey.” She kissed Delara on both cheeks.
Delara put her hand lightly on Rayne’s lower back. “This is Rayne.”
Danielle immediately offered her hand. “So glad to meet you. I heard you’re going to share the apartment. That’s wonderful. Delara needs someone to keep her in line. She is forever getting herself into trouble.”
A cough sounded and Rayne looked over Danielle’s shoulder. “This is my other half, Balen,” Danielle said.
The man in the painting stood in the flesh, rainforest eyes filled with warmth as he gave her a kind nod in greeting. He didn’t approach as if knowing she wouldn’t like him so close.
The three chatted for a few minutes while Rayne watched, uncertain what to do. Their conversation flowed easily like that of old friends. Rayne felt the complete opposite, like a ghost standing in the shadows, alone and with nothing important to contribute.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Delara nudged her arm. “We’ll shower, get settled. Let’s say we meet at the bar for beers around two?”
A shower sounded like heaven, having a beer in a bar sounded like her worst nightmare. She’d been hidden away by Anton for so long that trying to socialize with these strangers was like jumping into a pot of boiling water with screaming lobsters. She didn’t even have Kilter to lean on. How do you slink out of social awkwardness after they were being so kind and accommodating? You don’t. “Umm, okay.”
Balen grabbed Danielle around the waist and swung her around before placing a kiss on her lips. He whispered something in her ear and she blushed while smacking him in the chest. His laughter rang out and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
Delara leaned over and whispered, “He’s jam. Sweet, smooth and oh so yummy. Come on. I’ll show you the place.”
Danielle picked up her iPhone from the easel tray where she had a work in progress displayed. “I’m calling Jedrik. He’ll kill us if we don’t invite him.”
Delara huffed. “Big baby that he is.”
The apartment was quaint with two small bedrooms, each having windows, which Rayne was most thankful for. Hers overlooked the back alley, not much to look at, but just the knowledge that it was her room and no one else’s sent a giddy feeling through her. She never had her own bedroom, any room she had was Anton’s.
Delara threw a navy blue T-shirt onto the bed. “We’ll have to get you some clothes, but borrow anything of mine until then. You got dibs on the shower. Shampoo and stuff are in there. I have to make a call.”
Rayne gave a half-smile and nodded her thanks. This felt so surreal, no one ordering her to do anything, if she chose to forgo the shower no one would care. If she didn’t wear what was offered, darkness wouldn’t descend upon her. Unlike the massive house with all the Senses, this place felt like it could be a home.
A place to call home.
One baby step accomplished.
****
Kilter groaned as his head began to clear. He pried his eyes open, and was greeted with blackness and the weight of a five-pound steel bucket on his head. He tried to move his arms and discovered that they were chained above his head, and his ankles were manacled and chained to the floor.
He shifted, and biting pain shot through his limbs as the shackles cut into his skin. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the shout of agony as what felt like blood trickled down his arms to his sides. Any movement was unbearable. He suspected that was what his captor wanted.
The air was cold and damp as if he were under the earth somewhere. What the hell was going on? Shivers racked his body continuously and he knew it would eventually shut down.
Intense red-hot fury tore through him and his eyes blazed red, his Visionary abilities shooting forth as he tried to burn through the steel that blocked his sight.
What he got was a magnifying pain in his head as the heat tore back at him and burned his own eyes. He swore numerous times as the pain pulsated. His body jerked against the chains and he screamed again in agony.
He closed his eyes and tried vehemently to raise his Scar even though he knew it was pointless considering he could feel the piece of metal covering it.
A door creaked opened. “Ah, you’re awake.”
His brother? It was his brother’s voice, but . . . Kilter heard something scrape across the floor, then footsteps approached.
“You look rather ridiculous, Kilter. Chained up like a carcass.”
Christ, it was his brother. “Get me the hell out of here, Ulrich.”
His brother probably needed gold to pay off debts and was blackmailing him for the money. It wouldn’t work. His best friend Tye often said Ulrich needed a good two years at Waleron’s side to straighten him out. When he got out of this, he’d make damn sure it happened.
Ulrich’s laugh was menacing. “Let you go? You think I’m letting you go after all this planning? Ha! No, brother, you’re going to suffer for what you’ve done.”
What the hell was he talking about? “Brother, you’ve gone too far. Free me before I call the others. They won’t be kind when they discover what you’ve done. If you let me go before the Wraiths find out, I will convince Waleron to put you in Rest instead of frying your ass.”
A solid punch came plowing into his stomach, and Kilter grunted at the unexpected blow. “Ulrich, you bastard.” Another punch. Then another and another until Kilter could no longer breathe and his stomach twisted in agony. He hung by his wrists, shackles taking the weight of him as his legs gave out beneath him.
“They think you’re dead. They will never come, and we’re too far beneath the earth for you to use telepathy. This is your life now, brother. Here in this dungeon with no sight, no light and your dear sweet Gemma in my arms. At least until I get tired of her. Don’t worry, I intend to let you watch when I kill her.”
The last words sent him over the edge as his mind screamed with despair. Gemma? Sweet innocent Gemma was here? His soon-to-be wife. Oh God, no. “Noooo.” He exploded, body raging against the chains that were impossible to break, his eyes burning with fury, his Scar smothered against his skin, trying desperately to be free from the imprisoned body of a madman.
Ulrich laughed, the sound drowned out by Kilter’s screams of horror.
The door opened and closed.
Then nothing as the madman was left to his own wails of utter anguish.
****
Going to the bar was an absolute nightmare, considering it was packed full of men who were shouting and drinking while they watched oversized flat screens with men throwing some ball around on a field. Ms. Panic erupted with full force, and Rayne quickly took a seat before her legs decided to lose all circulation.
“Beer?” Delara asked.
Her expression must have given away her uncertainty because Delara turned to the waitress and ordered a round of beers. “You can try it and, if you don’t like it, I have no qualms about you sliding it my way.”
Balen sat kitty-corner from her, Delara beside her and Danielle directly across. She kept her hands in her lap and avoided looking around and letting her evil twin take complete control. Breathe. Calm yourself.
The beer tasted like dirty clothes after sitting in a washer for too long, and she gladly slid it closer to Delara, who winked at her then hailed the waitress. “Wine? Rye? Gin? What’s your poison?”
Food, she wanted to blurt out. This was sad. Her first time out at a bar and she didn’t have a clue what to order. Anton never let her drink alcohol, said it dulled the mind.
Balen spoke up. “Pina colada,” he told the waitress.
Rayne stiffened in her seat as he met her eyes, and she wanted to disappear from under his gaze, but when he smiled and she saw Danielle’s hand come to rest on his arm, she relaxed. He was being kind. As Delara would say, he was jam.
She liked the sweet drink, but it had to be fattening, considering it tasted so good. Nothing this delicious could be without fat. Stop. It’s okay to have one drink. But somewhere inside she was fighting the guilt that sucked away her resolve to enjoy something this once, a battle that persistently left her exhausted and uncertain of who she was and how to recover.
Delara was leaning forward talking to Danielle about her paintings when the blond playboy Jedrik came up behind her. He approached the table, putting his finger up to his lips when he noticed she caught sight of him. He winked as he grinned, revealing the dimples in his cheeks.
Two strides and he grabbed Delara, his arms wrapping around her from behind and locking her in place. Rayne’s heart raced and she gripped the seams of her jeans as Jedrik growled something into Delara’s ear.
It went down so fast that Rayne didn’t have time to scream. Delara stomped both feet and knocked her chair back, throwing him off balance enough to unlock his arms. She kept the motion going and the chair fell over backwards as she pushed her legs over her head and kicked Jedrik in the chest. He staggered back several steps until he hit the bar. Delara jumped to her feet and placed her hands on her hips while Jedrik placed his hand over where she’d dealt him a swift kick.
“Ten to six,” Delara said and broke out into a broad smile. “I think you forget I’m a Tracker. I knew you were there before you did.” She laughed. “Arrow, I believe you’re losing to a woman. Badly.”
He shrugged his lean shoulders. “I don’t mind losing to a woman. I just hate losing to a sassy one.”
“They have this stupid contest,” Danielle explained. “One point if you get out of a deadlock. Jedrik just lost.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to frighten your guest. So I took it easy.” He pulled up a chair and slipped it between her and Delara.
Rayne listened to the group talk and laugh. She contributed whenever one of them asked her a question, a rarity considering she knew nothing about normal life and had no intention of talking about her past. She had a feeling Danielle already knew about the abuse part, probably Delara had told her or she had a big red sign on her forehead saying Abused.
They were walking towards the door to leave when Jedrik grabbed Delara’s hand and pulled her aside. He whispered something in her ear, and Delara rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm. It was obvious they were more like good friends or brother and sister rather than having any romantic involvement. But she noticed Jedrik’s panic, as if he was scared by Delara’s obvious display of nonchalance at what he said. He glanced in her direction and his eyes no longer held that boyish charm. Rayne’s head began to pound and she quickly averted her gaze. From the corner of her eye she saw him walk up to bar and order another beer.
Delara came up beside her. “Let’s hit it.”
They parted ways with Balen and Danielle. then walked down Niagara Street towards Queen. Rayne felt her body weakening as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Exhaustion and stress were taking its toll, add in
a delicious pina colada and she was having trouble just making it the few blocks back to the gallery.
She stumbled as her knees gave out, and Delara grabbed her arm before she fell to the unforgiving sidewalk.
“Rayne! Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, just tripped.” She was glad the street wasn’t well lit and Delara couldn’t see her lying eyes. Unfortunately, her body had other plans as the familiar wave of dizziness and the trembling in her legs heightened. She struggled to keep pace with Delara, but her limbs had had enough and refused to function any longer.
She called for Kilter as she crashed to the ground.
****
When she opened her eyes, Delara was sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her forehead with a cool washcloth. Had she really fainted? It had been months since she collapsed. How did Delara get her back here by herself?
“How long have I been out?”
“Twenty minutes. And you’d be in a hospital if I had my way. But Jedrik came and helped me bring you back here and Anstice is on stand-by.” Delara was all seriousness as her eyes watched her every expression. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Rayne hesitated. “No.”
“You need help, Rayne. And if you don’t get it soon, you’re going to drop dead in the middle of the street one day. Can you imagine if you’d been by yourself tonight?” She sighed, running her hand through her short-cropped hair. “I know you can’t see it, but you’re way too thin. Your body can’t function any longer without the fuel. You’re not giving it fuel, Rayne.”
“I’m just stressed with everything that’s happened. By morning I’ll be fine,” she replied, knowing it was a half lie, or at least it felt like one.
“You’re seeing a therapist. No objection.” Delara held up her hand. “You don’t want a rehab center, I get it, but this can’t continue.”
“Delara I’m fine. I just need time to sort through some stuff.”
STEP (The Senses) Page 10
