STEP (The Senses)

by Paterson, Cindy

  Abby was quiet now, her limp body up against Simian’s, as he continued to stroke her head. Come on, Simian. For once don’t be a fuckup.

  Simian slowly lowered Abby back down on the bed then, with careful hands, placed the chains around her wrists that were still attached to the bedposts. Damien noticed how gentle and caring he was, as if he knew that if he handled her roughly she’d react.

  “Get him to cover her face.”

  He nodded, knowing that what they were doing was for the best. Abby was dangerous right now. Starving and needing blood so badly that she’d kill anyone to get it. Luckily for them, she was also weak and still confused.

  Simian grabbed the pillowcase off the pillow and went to lower it over Abby’s face. She rebelled, flinging against the chains, her screams piercing. Simian backed away, his eyes wide and filled with—fear. Damien found it hard to believe, but Simian looked scared. But that was impossible. Simian didn’t feel that emotion.

  “I smell his fear for her safety,” Waleron said. “Simian has been with you these past months and has grown close to Abby.”

  “But that’s—”

  “Nothing is always as known, Damien. You know that as well as I. You have been vulnerable—Simian felt that. He can rise from sleep enough to know what is going on around him. Call him to you,” Waleron said.

  Damien had never seen Simian so calm before and it made him nervous about the connection he held with Abby. More so, it made him jealous. The strange emotion came down on him like a gauntlet. How could he be jealous of a Scar? Christ, he was losing it. But seeing the odd bond between them made a dent in his stomach as if acid was eating away at it. Whatever it was he didn’t like it one bit.

  “Come to me, Simian. Rest. Sleep. Be one with me.” Damien raised his hand, palm upright and he felt the stirring of heat in his skin as Simian moved towards him obediently. He almost made it, his form changing to the white light again and shimmering for several seconds as if in uncertainty. Abby thrashed against the chains, then gave a high-pitched scream that had Simian planted back in form, his eyes dangerous as he quickly assessed the room.

  “Fuck,” Damien swore beneath his breath. So typical of his life. Nothing goes as planned.

  Simian moved back towards Abby and she settled down, her scream ceasing and her body limp.

  Waleron raised his brows. “Looks like we travel as is.”

  Chapter 26

  Roarke grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to her feet. “Move,” he said, voice low.

  “What the—” She had no time to react as he shoved her ahead of him, holding her hand and barreling out into traffic.

  Car horns blared and breaks squealed. Swear words were yelled from the car windows. Roarke ignored them all as he towed her across the street.

  “My car is around the corner. We need to run, sweetness.” He gripped her hand tight, half dragging her behind him as they turned down the first street, then into an alley. “Vamps and the woman from the compound,” he explained as he yanked open the passenger door of a black SUV.

  Oh God.

  She had one leg in the car when she felt her body being flung through the air. Roark’s shout came at the same time as her scream. She landed in a painful heap on the rough pavement, scraping her palms.

  “Rayne. Run. Get out of here,” Roarke shouted. His loud growl echoed as five vamps came down on him at once, their razor-sharp nails raking his skin, leaving long bleeding tears in his flesh.

  She crawled to her feet, head dazed from the impact. She froze in fear and horror as she watched Roarke being mauled. No! They couldn’t do this to him.

  She began chanting Serafina’s name in her mind. She’d always called to her aloud and wasn’t sure if it even worked with mere words in her head. Over and over, she called to her as she backed away from the horrid site.

  “Damn it, Rayne, get the hell out of here.” Roarke’s voice was barely audible, blood pooled on the pavement as he desperately fought them off.

  “Hold him still,” a female’s voice echoed in the alley.

  Serafina rise to me, Rayne continued to chant in her head.

  It wasn’t working.

  “Grab the girl,” the woman said.

  Three vamps left Roarke. He went wild, eyes blazing as he pulled something out of his pocket then ripped it across the neck of one of the vamps holding him. The body collapsed to the ground, head rolling several feet away.

  A shiver coursed through her body at Roarke’s undeniable fury. His eyes blazed with wrath and every muscle contracted, ready to explode in vengeance. His emotions leaked into her, the fear for her, his pain and rage. Blood soaked the front of his torn shirt and ripped jeans. His face had long jagged scrapes that dripped blood.

  “Roarke,” she screamed in warning as a vampire jumped from a garage rooftop and landed on top of him.

  “Damn it, Rayne,” Roarke yelled. “Get out of here.”

  How could she leave him behind?

  They needed help. She had to get help.

  She ran.

  Ragged breathing came up behind her. Hands grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to a stop. She jerked her elbow back and hit something hard, making a sharp crack.

  “Serafina, rise to me,” she cried out before it was too late.

  “What the—”

  “Serafina, rise now,” Rayne raised her voice, no longer caring that anyone heard.

  Footsteps approached. “She is calling to her Familiar. Her Scar. Stop her,” the female shouted.

  Desperation escalated as she screamed Serafina’s name again, feeling her Scar shift as if she were stretching her long limbs and cracking her knuckles before doing as requested.

  “Kill it,” the female voice shouted. “Her thigh.”

  “No,” Rayne cried. “Serafina! Rise. Now.” Serafina slowly moved down her leg. She struggled against the vamps holding her arms.

  “No,” Roarke bellowed then came barreling towards the vamps holding her.

  He had no chance. White webbing shot towards him, strands wrapping around his body like a spider’s web. He fought against them, a fierce growl and limbs flailing viciously, but every time he attempted to move, she could see the thin strands tightening. He was paralyzed. Roarke fell to the ground, blood seeping from his wounds to soak into the fibers of the webs.

  “Roarke. No, Roarke, no.” She fought against the steel bands of hands, but it was useless. “No. Let him go.”

  “He should have listened to me,” the woman’s voice said. Rayne heard the shuffle of feet behind her then the smell of Lilacs as the woman came up beside them. “He joined the wrong side.” She grabbed her leg.

  “No,” she screamed trying to kick out at her, knowing what she was about to do. “No. Serafina move. Now.”

  A sharp steel blade descended and tore through her jeans, the skin pierced by her lack of care. She kicked and struggled violently against their hold, knowing that Serafina’s life was in the balance.

  The knife slid into her leg and she cried out in both pain and horror. The blade ran laterally across her inner thigh. Serafina, her mind cried out. Her childhood friend—her only friend. No, don’t let her die. Please.

  Her body sagged, and struggling became moot as Serafina’s movements stopped. Blood slipped down her leg, the pain nothing compared to the thought of losing Serafina when she’d just gained her back.

  Tears ran down her checks as she looked up at the woman. “Why?”

  “It should have been done long ago,” she answered.

  “Rayne,” Roarke said as he again tried to get free of the Lilac’s webs, desperation in his eyes. “Jasmine, don’t. Don’t do this.”

  “Put her in the car,” the Lilac said to one of the vamps, who quickly yanked her forward and shoved her into the back seat. His hand was on the door to slam it shut when a vamp screamed a horrid shrill and fell to his knees, clutching his neck where a two-foot metal pole was embedded.

  “Let her go,” a deep voice la
den with fury shouted from the end of the alley.

  Rayne didn’t know whether to stay hidden in the car or make a run for it, but she figured whoever it was had to be on her side. She dove for the door, but her arm was caught in a death grip by a vamp and she was forced back.

  The Lilac jumped into the front seat and started the engine, while two vamps tried to fend off flying metal poles whirling towards them.

  The car slammed into reverse.

  Her open door hit the alley wall and bent, then snapped under the pressure.

  A pipe went through the front windshield, narrowly missing the Lilac’s face, and went straight into the vamp holding her arm.

  The Lilac made a horrid screech and pressed her foot to the floor, and the car swirled backwards faster.

  Rayne looked down the alley and her heart stopped.

  Kilter.

  He stood with his feet braced, knife in one hand and metal spear in the other.

  “Kilter, watch out. Webs,” Roarke shouted.

  Webs shot out the side window and went straight for Kilter. Rayne leapt forward and reached over the car seat, grabbing the Lilac around the neck. The webs went in all directions then dissipated.

  “Bitch,” she shrieked, then jammed her elbow straight back into Rayne’s cheek.

  Rayne dove for the open door, but something had hold of her ankle. Webs were crawling up her leg, tightening as she kicked to get free.

  A horrendous bang sounded and the car made a sudden veer to the side then slammed into a brick wall.

  ****

  So thirsty. Her throat screaming for relief, something that would ease the scratched surface that made it agony to swallow. She was disoriented and confused, her mind in a swirling bleak abyss. Not knowing who she was or what was happening to her body, the single thought of blood overriding all other needs.

  She caught glimpses of Damien, uncertain if he were real or imagined, her vision like a haze of fog. The smells around her had intensified: the cedar wood of the floors, the cotton sheets washed in Tide, and the familiar male scent of Damien.

  Damien. She tried to focus on that one smell she knew so well, the man who’d stayed with her all these months. Why? Why was she here? Why had he stayed with her?

  She could hear voices in her head, deep male tones that were not speaking aloud, but tap-danced across her mind. She wanted to block them out and just sleep. Clear her mind from the agony of sensations that were plowing through her body.

  The animal that had calmed her was near her again. It was soothing, hearing his deep breathing, knowing that he’d protect her from—what did she need protection from? What was happening to her?

  Her mind screamed Damien’s name, but no words emerged from her throat, instead she heard a hiss and then her thirst intensified. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on the shadows in the room, but all she saw were muddled shapes in red.

  So thirsty. Water. She needed water. No, her mind battled, it needed blood. Her body revolted at the thought. No. No. It wasn’t true. She couldn’t have Turned; Damien would never let her Turn. But she knew. She craved the thirst of blood and it would never end.

  Words wouldn’t form as she screamed. Screamed for death to take her and end what she knew would be a life of hell. Trapped to Liam. Trapped to blood-thirst. A slave to her body’s needs regardless of the sane thoughts that roamed her mind.

  She tried to form words, but nothing except a hiss emerged. She required blood to gain her strength and clear her mind.

  “Abb. Simian is going to pick you up.”

  Her eyes darted to the red shadow a few feet from the bed, a voice she knew so well—Damien. She wanted to cry, knowing that she had lost him with the Turn. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew he had to hate her now. She was something he detested, his enemy, the witches’ enemy. Her own enemy.

  She jerked as warm, soft hands slid underneath her and for a second she rebelled until she smelled the scent of Damien mixed with a slight burning. It wasn’t Damien, but a part of him, a piece of his own entity.

  Abby relaxed and let the red shadow pick her up in his arms. She curled her body into his massive strength. The soft fur warmed her cold flesh and she laid her head on its chest as he carried her from the room.

  Voices again muddled her head as if a fuzzy radio station were playing and she couldn’t turn it off. She pressed her hands to her ears hoping to stop them, but they refused and she gritted her teeth in pain. A hand, slow and easy, caressed her hair and she closed her eyes to the red haze. Soothing. Warm. Keep me warm.

  The wind touching her skin and the scent of pine trees and moss had her senses go into overload. It was too strong. The wind felt like hands smothering her skin, suffocating her with its touch. The scents burned her nostrils as if she was on fire. She had to go back. Back inside where it was safe.

  She struggled against the massive arms, pushing on the chest, her legs kicking out and her scream piercing her own ears.

  “She has no control over the magnified senses yet.” A calm, patient voice stated.

  “When does it get better for her?”

  Damien, she thought. He was close to her and the urge to escape lessened a little.

  “We will give her blood when she is contained. It will ease her pain and strengthen her, but it isn’t Liam’s blood. She will crave his.”

  She heard Damien swear under his breath and it echoed in her ears as if she were inside a hollow cave. She was all mixed up thinking of Damien, but mixed with a need for Liam. Just the mention of his name had her body hungering for him.

  A loud bang sounded and she jerked, lifting her head to see that they were enclosed in a dark small space. Car? It was hard to tell with everything still fuzzy, but the smells had grown faint and the suffocating wind on her skin had left.

  She felt the soft touch of a hand on her cheek and she knew who it was immediately—Damien. She kept her eyes closed as a tear slipped from the rim and slid down her cold flesh. The urgency to bite his finger and take his blood was overwhelming, and it took the last of her strength and sanity to move her head away.

  “Abb, I’m sorry. Christ, I’m sorry.” His words wrapped around her mind and clamped down on her soul. He’d never touch her again, never take the risk again, and that was the end of who she once was.

  Abby was dead.

  Chapter 27

  “Rayne. Stay in the goddamn car. Keep your head down,” Kilter shouted.

  He didn’t make a move until he saw Rayne slide into the back seat of the SUV. He hated that she was close to what would soon be a war, but it was too much of a risk telling her to run.

  Time to dance.

  He liked challenges and this was going to be the ultimate. He intended to be the last man standing if he had anything to say about it. The Lilac was a surprise and he had to stay clear of her webbed fingers. The beauty queen was anything but beautiful in mind—deceitful, cunning and deadly. Luckily, for him they could be killed by any means necessary. Unfortunately, it was difficult to get near them and dodging webs was tricky.

  “Leave now and I’ll let you live,” the Lilac shouted from behind the brick wall.

  “I really don’t give a shit about living, but what I do care about is ripping your head from your shoulders,” Kilter retorted. He was looking for a good fight, and by the looks of her pissed-off glare it would be a good one. His fear and rage had set off like burst transformers when Keir called to tell him Rayne had left the house. The only reason he’d found her so quick was that he suspected she’d head for Danielle’s gallery a block away. Using his vision, he’d searched every block in a mile radius. Didn’t take him long when he heard the screams.

  Time to slice ’em and dice ’em.

  He dove to the right as the Lilac expelled webs from her fingers like overcooked cappellini The deadly substance whizzed through the air and attached itself to the brick wall behind him. He landed facedown on the unforgiving pavement, with his Magnum shooting. He jumped to his feet and wen
t running for a parked VW. He sprang behind it just as the back windshield broke with a shuriken embedded into the glass.

  He rolled to the side and felt the fire in his eyes burning as the rage escalated. He could use his vision to see through things but he couldn’t let fire stream from his eyes when humans could be watching, nor use his Scar. Using either was against the laws and could put him in Rest again and no way was that happening with Rayne in danger. With gunshots, there was a good chance that the police were already on their way.

  Footsteps approached. Without looking, using only his senses, he shot at the movement. The steps faltered then stopped.

  “Get out of there,” Roarke shouted. Bloody GQ was helping him?

  Kilter dove to the right just as webs came around the side of the car. Goddamn it, she was faster than he’d anticipated. Being caught was not an option. The only way free of a Lilac’s web was with a damn sharp knife or a bloody chainsaw, and that risked a limb.

  Kilter jumped to his feet and saw the Lilac coming towards him. He threw his knife while following its motion, going full tilt towards her.

  “Jasmine,” Roarke shouted. The distraction worked and the Lilac glanced at Roarke for mere seconds.

  She dodged and the pointed blade pierced her shoulder instead of her heart. She staggered, yanked the knife out and threw it to the ground. There was a determination of fierce battle rage in her eyes. This chick was not going to hide or make a run for it. She wanted his demise.

  “Roarke,” he called as he threw him a knife. If the guy could get out of her webs, then maybe they had a chance of getting Rayne out of here.

  “Why do you want her? She is of no importance to you,” Kilter called out from behind a blue Dumpster.

  Jasmine’s voice purred. “Simple, she is mine. I never let go what is mine. Never.”