by Nashoda Rose
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” I shrugged and peered out the side window. “I live with Xamien remember.” Xamien was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen—worldly with a casual air about him. I also thought of him more as a father figure than a man I’d ever be interested in. “Nothing unusual in my world.”
“Your world?” Jasper scoffed. “Your world consists of Xamien and his butler guy, Glunk, about one-hundred acres and a manor. You, Miss Sunshine, haven’t even experienced a teacup of the world.”
I tensed, hands gripping into the leather armrests. A teacup? Did he just compare my life to a teacup? “At least in my ‘teacup’ I have morals and can sleep at night.”
“Oh, I sleep just fine.” His voice was low and soft as he said, “Can you, Max?”
My breath hitched and my gaze jerked to his.
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”
“Because you’re cute when you get riled.” His mouth twitched at the corners.
Bastard. He liked this. He liked getting a rise out of me. He was enjoying seeing me stutter and thrown off balance. Well, I may not have his experience, but I did know what a man liked and what would throw him off.
I slowly ran my tongue over my upper lip.
Twitch gone.
I caressed the silver chain at the base of my throat.
His brows lowered as he watched me.
Then I bit my bottom lip and slowly dragged my teeth over it.
His lips pursed together and shifted in his seat.
Game over.
Now, I was taking control.
MAX WAS ASLEEP, FEET TUCKED under her, hair lying in soft tendrils against her cheek begging me to run my fingers through it. I loved a woman’s hair; it said a lot about them. And hair like Max’s, long and luxurious with a bounce in the relaxed waves, indicated she was hiding behind the curtain of strands. Afraid of change—taking chances; quiet with an aura of mystery. The thing was . . . Max pretended to be unafraid of everything, most of all me, but that was a lie. The girl was hiding, and I was going to break through and watch her crack.
I was pissed I couldn’t read her thoughts. It made my job harder, protecting a woman I had no idea what was channeling through her brain. Information was my advantage and I was good at finding it and using it to get what I wanted. Maybe it was better I didn’t read her thoughts; it was too intimate and my obsession with her was already fucking with me.
“Like what you see?” she said, eyes flashing open.
The corners of my lips twitched up—smartass. What I’d discovered with Max was she was feisty. The way she’d handled Jules made me want to grab her and kiss her until she moaned my name. I knew Jules wanted Max to think we were fucking, but the truth was there was nothing between us anymore. We’d fucked a few times a couple years back, but that was it. And normally, I wouldn’t give a shit what another girl thought, but Max . . . it bothered me overhearing her talking to Julianna. I didn’t like her thinking I’d fucked her.
“Yeah, I do.” No point denying it. Shit, I wanted to taste her, caress her, sink inside her so badly it was like my cock hung by a noose, strangling with need.
The thing was . . . I had a feeling once wasn’t going to be enough and that bothered the fuck out of me. Still didn’t stop me from wanting her. Hadn’t stopped me from watching her for months either. Besides, I took what I wanted and dealt with the consequences later.
My cock swelled as her sweet glassy eyes looked at me. I didn’t like when she had no expression, face stiff and controlled. She had a magnetic smile she rarely used and when I had seen it, it was like she’d handed over a piece of her soul. Fuckin’ brilliant.
I’d yet to hear her laugh and damn it, I wanted to. I bet she’d tilt her head back slightly, revealing her slender, pale throat and her eyes would sparkle like blue sapphires. The sound . . . fuck, it would have the sweetness of syrup with the heat of a hot sauce.
She uncurled her legs and put her feet on the floor, searching for her shoes. The jagged white scar and discolored skin on the bridge of her foot overtop what was her tattoo caught my eye. I’d seen it a number of times and it was obvious someone had purposely destroyed her Ink by burning it. From what was left of it, the Ink had been some sort of spider.
A roar rose in my chest threatening to escape my throat as the image of Max being burned, tortured . . . fuckin’ hurt. My entire body stiffened and I wanted to punch something, destroy. Jesus, what was wrong with me?
I never gave a shit what scars, physical or emotional, people had. We all had them. Made us who we were . . . good and bad.
But I wanted to know exactly what happened to her. I wanted to kill the bastard. He was mine to destroy.
“What happened?” I nodded to her foot.
She immediately shoved her foot back in her shoe. “None of your business.”
I was expecting that answer. Max was as closed off about her past as I was. “It is my business. You’re my business and until I say otherwise, you’re going to tell me anything I need to know about you.” I didn’t really need to know shit about her. All I had to do was keep her ass safe and if I couldn’t do that, then I had to kill her. Should’ve been a simple job. But it was complicated as hell and fucking with my emotions. I tried to play it off as lust, but my obsession was more than that. I didn’t just want her, I wanted to own her. And the crazy-as-fuck part was that I wanted her to want to be owned by me.
Max’s lips pursed together and I knew I was getting to her. When I’d met the girl, she had a shield around her emotions the size of Asia. But I was chipping away at it and she was crumbling.
“And I don’t feel like telling you.”
This time, I did chuckle. She frowned and her spine stiffen which jutted out her sweet breasts that I’d got a taste of pressed up against me for hours on the bike. I flicked the switch for autopilot then reached for her foot.
“What are you—” she squealed as I yanked off her shoe.
Her fist hit the underside of my jaw—hard.
“Let me go!”
She twisted in her seat, attempting to get away, but she had little room to move. It was cute as hell. Fuck, I’d like seeing her fight lying beneath me naked. “Babe, what happened to your Ink?”
“Nothing.”
“Sunshine, tell me.”
She stopped fighting and blurted, “He burned it okay. He held me in his arms and stroked my hair all sweet-like while his vampire minion took a burning rod and scorched my Ink.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I froze, staring at her. “That was day one.”
She bent her knee and I should’ve seen it coming, but my hands were wrapped around her delicate ankle, and I was busy reeling, the image suffocating me. She kicked out and hit me in the side of the head, throwing me off balance. My hands slipped from her ankle and I grunted as my vision blurred for a second.
“Jesus, you have one hell of a kick.”
She was on her feet and standing behind her seat, hands curled around the back of it. “Touch me again and my blade will be the last thing you see. Got it?”
Her blades were in my bag under my seat.
“Got it?” she shouted.
She was trembling, her face pale and the blazing anger was mixed with fear . . . fuck. I was a bastard. I shouldn’t have pushed her on the Ink thing. What was my deal? My deal was I normally didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of me, but that was changing. I realized I did care. I cared what Max thought. And instead of making a cold remark back at her, I had the urge to apologize.
I swore to never care again. It was dangerous, and in my line of work, it could get anyone I cared about dead really fast.
“Yeah, babe. I got it.” I picked up the headset and put it on.
I WAS STILL SHAKING WHEN the plane descended and my ears popped. Then a thump and the tires skidded down the runway. It had been an hour since Jasper had tried to see my Ink and every inch of me was screaming at the memories of Drake’s voice as he calmly held me, whispering sooth
ing words in my ear. But nothing was soothing. His words were a knife stabbing me with every syllable.
I couldn’t walk for weeks after he killed my Ink.
“Max.” Jasper stood beside my seat, his hand rose as if he was about to touch my shoulder, but he lowered it to his side.
I counted to ten, bringing the shield down over my mind. I couldn’t let him get to me. I wasn’t that vulnerable girl anymore. I knew how to fight. I knew how to protect myself.
I titled my chin up. “Touch my Ink again and I’ll kill you.”
He met my stare head on, and for a second, I thought he was going to shoot back a smartass remark, but this time he surprised me and gave an abrupt nod. “Yeah.” He walked to the side door, opened it and strode down the steps.
When I came down the stairs, he was leaning up against the plane, arms crossed with the confidence of a proud lion defending his mountain and the mountain was Fiona. I walked over and reached for my blades he had in his hand. He put them behind his back and with his other arm, snagged me around the waist and pulled me tight to him. My hands automatically went to his chest, one palm flat against his heart.
His voice was low and graveled with that panty-dampening hint of an accent. “I’m sorry, Max. I shouldn’t have . . . fuck, I’m sorry.”
My breath caught in my throat. There was no cocky grin, no playful gleam in his eyes; instead, I saw concern with furrowed brows and lips pulled downward.
I was so taken aback by the simple yet powerful words that I remained quiet and still in his arms. I knew something had changed between us in that moment. His ability to apologize and mine to . . . yes, I accepted it because I knew getting those words from Jasper was monumental.
“What happened to you, Jasper?”
His expression immediately hardened. He put his finger under my chin and his thumb slowly caressed the dimple. The softness in it completely contradicted the harsh, cold look in his eyes. “I’m good at three things: killing, fucking and not caring whether I’ve done either one.” His fingers trickled over my chin, down my neck then between my breasts and lower. Then he was under my shirt, his skin touching mine as he lightly graced the pads of his fingers over my naked skin. Suddenly, his hand left me and he moved away. “Max, I want you to . . . I need you to never forget that.”
I couldn’t understand him. He was playful and flirted, yet was cruel and unkind as if he wanted to hurt me. But I felt something when we touched and it was more than desire. It was stronger, and if either of us gave in to it, I had a feeling it would be the destruction of who we’d become.
“Max?”
I gasped at the familiar voice and turned. Xamien shut the door of a black Audi and walked toward me with a broad smile on his face. The tension in my shoulders instantly disappeared as I met the bright warmth in his eyes. If there was one person in this world I cared about, Xamien was it. Every time I saw him, the memory of him lifting me up in his arms and carrying me out of Drake’s hell brought a wealth of relief.
It was like being saved all over again.
I knew he wouldn’t hug me. I’d kept my distance from everyone, including him, but something had shifted in me and I wanted to feel the familiarity of Xamien around me.
I stepped toward him and wrapped my arms around his waist. It took him a second before he embraced me and then kissed the top of my head. I pressed my cheek to his solid chest and he squeezed me. The Taldeburu exuded an intense sexuality with the way he held himself. Tall and muscular with aristocratic features and an air of confidence. He had never pushed me to tell him anything about myself and now I knew why . . . he’d known I was a Healer and probably suspected I was hiding it because of what I’d been through. It didn’t matter though. Xamien had given me a home and most of all, he’d trusted me when I’d given him nothing to trust.
“You okay?”
I nodded and pulled back. “Yes, sir.” I heard Jasper grunt.
My gaze shot to him and I noticed his eyes flicker down to Xamien’s hand still settled on my waist. The glare . . . it was filled with irritation. I was a Healer and couldn’t feel emotion like a Scar Reflector, but no one needed an enhanced ability to feel the tension radiating off him.
Xamien was obviously pretty immune to Jasper’s assholishness or knew that it was a cover because I was learning fast that everything out of Jasper’s mouth wasn’t the truth.
Jasper’s eyes trailed back up to my face and his scowl deepened. All those little things he noticed about me . . . how he watched me . . . how he looked after me when I had the nightmare . . . those things couldn’t be actions of a man who didn’t care.
And that realization made my heart skip a beat as we stared at one another until Xamien’s voice drew us apart. “I can sense the attraction between the two of you.”
Xamien was a Reflector and could read emotions; however, a Reflector didn’t have to break through your shields to feel them. When I looked up at his face, it was murderous as he glared at Jasper. What made it worse was Jasper shrugged.
“It’s not like that,” I quickly said.
Xamien ignored me, his focus on Jasper. “You told me you wouldn’t. I warned you to keep your hands off.” The words were ground out one by one, like a fist pounding on a drum. “I should’ve known better. I did know better.”
The tension between them caused the air to shift and I quickly put my hand on Xamien’s arm to draw his attention back to me. “Xamien, I’m fine. We’re okay.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him.”
Whoa. I hadn’t expected something like that coming from Xamien. He was always laid back and casual, but this was the side others feared. Xamien reached forward and pushed my hair back from my neck. I heard Jasper cough and mutter something under his breath. Xamien must have distinguished his words because he started to go for him, but I latched onto his arm.
“What’s going on, Xamien?”
Xamien raised his head and looked toward the car. The air grew colder and then a grey cloud of mist appeared.
I stiffened as a figure emerged from the fog and I met the ice-blue eyes of Waleron. He looked at me and for one second, I wondered if he knew who I was.
He was an ancient, upheld the laws above all others and protected the Scars with his life. He was exceptionally private and no one even knew where he lived. But two things everyone did know was that he endured sixty-one years of torture by a CWO, a Lilac, and he would do anything to protect the Scars—anything.
He strode toward us and I shifted a little closer to Xamien, who responded by squeezing my waist reassuringly.
“Xamien. Jasper,” Waleron said then turned to me. “Max.” I shivered as he said my name. It was as if he knew it wasn’t my real name. Was it possible? Did he know I was Breanna and lied about my name all these years?
Xamien nodded with respect. Jasper didn’t say anything; actually, I noticed he avoided looking at Waleron all together, which was odd because Jasper met everyone head on.
“You tell her who is after her?” And Waleron’s voice matched his ice-cold glare—abrupt and harsh.
My heart jumped and then started running a sprint. Heat flooded my body as my nerves began to shoot off like fireworks. No, don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“Not yet,” Xamien said.
“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Jasper’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Waleron, damn it. You bastard. You told me you didn’t know who the fuck was after her.”
Waleron didn’t even flinch as he stood calmly and kept his eyes on me. I knew. No one had to say anything. I knew what they were going to tell me.
“The Scar looking for you,” Xamien said. “He’s been seen all over the world for the past six months looking for a girl. A girl about twenty years old with scars on her and a burn on the top of her foot over a tattoo.” Bile rose in my throat and I had to swallow several times. “His name is Drake and he’s an ancient Scar, Max.” Oh, God. It was Drake. “This Scar . . . the Goddess killed his
Ink because he was too powerful. He wanted to destroy the Scars and be the only one to rule. When his Ink died, it weakened his lungs and took most of his powers away including his ability to Trace.”
I didn’t hear his words anymore and I didn’t need to. I knew the story. What they didn’t yet know was that Drake had kept me prisoner for six years as his private Healer.
And now he was looking for me and didn’t care who knew it.
Black spotted my vision as the overwhelming fear catapulted me into a soaring reel of emotions that suddenly crashed to the ground and left me gasping for air.
“Max,” Xamien gently pulled me around to face him. “The house I found you in . . . there were vampires but . . . were they followers of Drake? Was he who we rescued you from? Is that why you hid that you’re a Healer? Because you’ve been scared he’d find you?”
My breath locked in my throat as I thought of Drake. He could Trace again. He was looking for me. He had hordes of vampire followers to help him. He had humans helping him. Who else? CWOs?
“Max, we need answers in order to protect you.” Xamien rubbed my arms up and down, trying to comfort me, but all I could think about was Drake.
“Yes. I healed him for six years.” I closed my eyes as the fear grabbed hold of me and brought me under. I trembled and heard voices echoing, arguing, but I couldn’t focus on anything except that Drake was the one coming for me.
Drake would kill Xamien. He’d kill anyone who got in his way, just like he had my Talde and my mother. He was resilient, unwavering, determined.
I felt as if I was standing naked in the freezing cold and frost bite was slowly eating away at my skin.
“Max!” It was Jasper’s curt tone that cut into me and I slowly opened my eyes. Jasper had his hands on my hips and I was clutching his shirt as I stood in front of him, not even knowing how I got there. “He won’t find you.”
But no words could calm the rising storm of emotions. The numbness Jasper had chipped away at was crumbling—fast. “Yes, he will.” I forgot about Xamien and Waleron as I looked up into Jasper’s eyes, tears filling them as everything I’d fought to avoid came crashing down on me. “Did you know he walked the streets of different cities every day? All around the world just so he’d be able to Trace to any place he wanted. I healed him every week so he’d be strong enough to Trace.” Jasper’s entire body pulsated with tension as he looked over at Waleron who stood beside us. “I was taken when I was ten. He killed my mother and Talde. He burned everything and then he . . .”
