Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  Louder. Deeper.

  I hate being trapped under the drugs; I hate these sheets, the fucking thread count so rough it feels like it will rub my skin off. I hate the nasty gown they put me in that strips me of one more piece of myself. I can’t escape my demons as I get lost between being held down in my head and being trapped in real life.

  This isn’t to help me, this is for them, and it leaves my demons to haunt me in the dark, hunting for what’s left of the girl I was. They’ll separate me from my sanity if I let them, and so I have to focus on one thing.

  He’ll always come for me.

  He swore he’d come, and I believe.

  He swore.

  Tyler.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tyler Blackman

  Arnowsky won in court this morning on the forced medicating. Arnowsky found an expert to review the records and testify there was no reason for the level of medication she’d received. Frenwhit didn’t seem prepared to show up in court, let alone explain why he was doping her. It didn’t help that his own nurses had notes stating their doubts about the handling of the case. He looked incompetent or like he was lying.

  I’m going with liar.

  I’m sitting in Frenwhit’s office, waiting for the asshole to get here. I came as soon as the hearing was over, and somehow, I got here before him. I’m going to talk to him and make it clear that if he retaliates against her again, I’ll destroy his life. He’s fucked with my girl, and I promised her, I’ll get even.

  When he comes in, struggling to get his jacket off and fighting to keep his glasses from falling, his nerves are clearly frayed. And they should be.

  He’s a gutless bully who abused a defenseless patient under his care and instead of apologizing like a man, he’s covering his ass. I’m half his age and I know better.

  “Mr. Blackman.” His voice nearly squeaks when he realizes I’m there.

  “Frenwhit,” I sneer.

  “Doctor,” he says, attempting to correct me, as he sits.

  “I don’t flatter drug pushers.”

  “Now listen—”

  “Shut up.” My hate cuts through him, his body jerking back. “You failed at your job when she first got here, then when you found out, you still drugged her. Don’t think I don’t know what you did or that I’m gonna forgive it. I heard what they said in court. That shit can cause psychiatric problems in people who were perfectly fine.” Leaning forward on my thighs I clasp my injured hand in the cast, rubbing at the pain as a reminder not to punch him. “If you retaliate against her in any way, I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”

  Sweat breaks out on his forehead as his eyes dilate, focusing on my fists.

  Good.

  “I’m assuming you took two seconds in the last couple of days to look us up, so you know who I am. You know who my family is. If you think you’re gonna win, you’ve been taking too many of your own pills.”

  “I’m aware of your family.” There’s a subtle emphasis on the wrong word, an impression I need to fix right now.

  “She is my family.”

  He pales and fumbles with the papers on his desk. “We’re not trying to harm her.” Avoiding looking me in the eye, he randomly skims his hands over the folders on his desk.

  “Then you would have read the police report or fucking asked her. You would have known why she flips out. She’s not a danger, she’s scared.” My hands clench, the pain feeling good. “For every ounce of misery you cause her, I’ll make you feel it ten times worse.”

  Frenwhit’s hands still, frozen, as his eyes slowly meet mine. “You can’t go around threatening people, Mr. Blackman. Maybe both of you should be in here.”

  Standing, I look down at the source of so much of our current struggles. It’s been a long time since I thought about my size. I’m six feet four. I’ve slimmed down to a dense two hundred ten of solid muscle, and I can break this mouse in front of me, injured hand or not, and based on the way he cowers behind his desk, he knows it. So, I don’t bother saying anything. I just walk out the door and follow an aide to her new private room on the wing treating less acute patients.

  Hesitating at her door, my hand shakes.

  Does she hate me?

  A twist of the handle and the door slowly opens to a room that doesn’t look like a cell, but I’m struck by how cold it is. The space is still small and sterile except for the balled-up form in the middle of the narrow bed.

  I don’t know how to apologize to her.

  I’m afraid she’ll turn away from me, but the fear doesn’t get a chance to grow, because when she rolls over and sees me, she jumps from the bed and flings herself into my arms. Relief burns my eyes as she fills every cell in my body.

  She isn’t drugged, she isn’t strapped down, and this is the first time I’ve been held in days. She doesn’t look broken and her eyes are fierce.

  Wildfire burning.

  Squeezing my arms around her, she stuns me by scrambling up my body, wrapping her legs around my hips and kissing me. She hasn’t done this except in her sleep since before. Walking us both to the bed, I sit as her knees straddle my hips, melding us together.

  “Did they forget to drug me?” Her voice is soft in my ear.

  “No, I made them stop. Didn’t they tell you?” God, I’ve missed her. I stroke her spine and scowl for a second when I realize she’s lost more weight.

  “No. They don’t tell me shit. You can’t take me home today, can you?”

  She doesn’t sound mad, just beyond sad. I can’t speak. How do I tell her she has to wait? I just squeeze her tight as a tear escapes.

  “It’s okay, Tyler.” She pulls on my hair, forcing my face from her neck. I don’t know how I can look her in the eye and admit I’m failing her.

  “Gorgeous.” She sighs when she sees the guilt in my blood-shot eyes. The pain we’re both holding back leaves me shuddering, but past the pain…

  She loves me. Still. In spite of…I will never give up.

  “We have another court date to get you out. It’s supposed to be in three weeks, but because of the retaliatory medication, we think we can get an emergency hearing in under two.” My voice breaks. “I want to take you now, but—”

  “I know you aren’t leaving me,” she says.

  Slipping my fingers past her cheeks and into her hair, I tilt her head so we’re nose to nose. “I could never leave you, and I’ll be here every day. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. I keep saying I want to blow up the building, but they keep telling me it’s a bad idea.”

  I’m only half joking. Pretty soon I won’t care.

  “Tyler.” Her fingers ghost over my lips. “You can’t be here every day.” Her voice is soft but determined.

  It’s a gut punch. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

  Her lips brush mine gently as she rises to her knees. Her fingers continue their path through my hair, digging and pulling. It turns me on and breaks my heart.

  Shaking her head, she kisses me again as she pushes me back. I don’t know what to do, so I let her lead, afraid to scare her. The mix of pain, want, and confusion hurts my chest, and all I can do is hold tight to her knees as she drops down on my hips and her mouth finds my collarbone. Crushing the desire to grind up into her, I bite my cheek to keep in the groan that rises when she settles in on top of me; want burning me alive.

  Moments of heat and tension freeze me in place until she pulls up and stares at me, eyes confused and hurt. Instinctively, I stroke her cheek. “What is it?”

  Her voice shakes. “Do you not want me anymore?”

  I’ve learned my lesson, I don’t hesitate. “I want you more than you can possibly imagine.” Trying to exhale the frozen fire from my limbs, I adjust her hips to stop her from melting me where I lie. “I just don’t want to scare you.” There’s my truth.

  “I’m not okay,” she whispers. “But I’ve missed you, and I need to feel you. So, touch me, kiss me, please.” Her pain cuts through my reservations, and I do what I’ve wanted to
do every minute of every day.

  Cupping the back of her neck, I slant my lips over hers and exhale all the moments apart, letting her know how much I’ve missed her. How I can’t be without her and still breathe right. Kissing her deeper, I inhale the air from her lungs like I’m attempting to inhale her fear.

  The months we were apart in the fall were a mini-death, and now, I’m dying all over again. I let all of that show in my kiss; I live for her. And she returns it all, breathing her pain into me, her sleepless nights, her tears. Her fingernails dig in and demand more and I give it without thinking.

  I want her.

  A slow wiggle from her hips gets the blood racing the wrong direction. It’s the same kind of soft pleasure seeking she does in her sleep. Her hands explore my chest and abs, skimming, pressing, scratching, as she nips at my lips and tongue. Even tasting the salt of her tears…

  Fuck.

  Throwing back my head, I stare at the ceiling for a moment before glancing over to the door. With the window. “They can see.”

  “I need you,” she says, her voice nearly breaking.

  Her tears are drying, but there’s a need in every twitch of her skin. She asks for so little; I won’t deny her even if I can’t give her everything. Rolling her away from the window and onto the arm of my bad hand, I pull her close. I’ll do whatever she wants.

  “You want me to touch you? What do you need?”

  She rolls on her back and tucks in as close as she can, hiding herself with my shoulders. Then a small smile appears. “Since when do you ask that?”

  Giving her a pinch on the nose, I give a mock-glare and shake her a little. “Since shit got way too complicated for this stupid jock. Now, answer the question, tiny girl.”

  She giggles and it momentarily turns her into the girl I knew. Dropping my head onto her neck, I inhale the sound as much as her smell.

  “You’re not a stupid jock.”

  “Maybe not.” I breathe into her skin, running my lips over the shell of her ear, ghosting across her neck. “But I can’t read your mind, and I need to make you feel good.”

  A soft sigh, followed by her nails digging in lets me know she wants this. So, when she pulls on my free hand, I let her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rayne Mathews

  He kisses my neck, the hollow of my shoulder, slowly stroking a gentle hand down my waist. The changes since the court ordered a new treatment plan has helped immensely. There’s clarity.

  I need this. I need him.

  The smell of sandalwood and Tyler fills my nose and I turn my face into his chest to inhale as much as I can.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, voice cracking as he rolls me into a full body hug, heat radiating through the nasty gown I’m wearing.

  Long, strong limbs wrap around me, twisting like a plant seeking stray bits of light when my fingers begin tracing the planes of his face. His brows, the sharp edges of his cheekbones, the strong lines of his jaw; each beautiful piece of him memorized, the form and color embedded deep inside me where no one can take it away. When his long lashes flutter closed, I feel him trying to hold it all together, like he’s been doing for so long.

  “I love you,” I breathe out.

  “What can I do?” he asks.

  I know he wants to make things better, and he has, he just can’t tell because I’m still such a mess. I don’t want him to feel like I don’t appreciate it, and I know he needs to do something, so I tell him the first things that come to mind. “I hate these clothes. Blankets. These suck.”

  An aide walks by and gives us a nod then moves on, making Tyler grunt. “That’s a given. They told me you can have some of your own stuff. We’ll have a big bag here before I leave. What else?”

  I’m not surprised he already of thought it. I’ve been his priority since the beginning of January. That worries me though. He can’t be here every day. No matter that he wants to, he has class and football. He can’t fuck those things up because I’m in here. “Have someone else bring it tomorrow. You have class and practice.”

  His face darkens and he sits up, dragging us to the top of the bed. Resting me crossways across his lap, he grabs my jaw to stare into my eyes. “Fuck school, fuck ball, fuck—”

  “No.”

  “Baby—” He gets that stubborn tilt to his chin and I want to kiss and kick him.

  “I need you in Stats so you can help me. I want my running partner in shape. And after everything, don’t you dare fuck up ball, Tyler.” Taking a breath, my forehead meets his. “I trust you. Go to class, go to practice. You’ll see me when you can. I…” I don’t want to cry, but the tears flow anyway.

  “Rayne,” he whispers, and we cling to each other without a word. When we’re capable, he kisses my temple, and there’s a rasp in his voice. “How can I not be here every minute they’ll let me?”

  Smiling softly, because he needs it, I say, “I need you to crush it, and when you are done at the end of the day, come see me.” Pressing our lips together again, I exhale my fears. “I’m stuck in here, but that doesn’t mean you have to lose everything too. I can’t take that; I don’t want to. Please?”

  A myriad of emotions tics across the muscles of his face, tightening his jaw, bright green burning into me. After two big breaths, his head collapses onto my shoulder. A tremor rattles him, then he pulls back, face hardened to granite. “I’m getting you out of here, one way or another.”

  The small iron knot of anxiety weighing me down shifts just a little.

  It’s not that I thought he’d leave me here, but this is a different kind of promise. Something more. Something darker, and while it shouldn’t make me feel safer, it does. I know without a doubt he’ll follow through.

  Fuckwit won’t be able to keep me. No one will. All I have to do is hold on. Either the court lets me out or Tyler takes me out.

  • • • •

  His visit was everything. Survival may be easier now. Right before Tyler arrived, Nurse Ratchet came to my old room with a smile and told me I was getting transferred. Nurse Rachet has a name, though I won’t ever call her that. She gave me a vicious smile and said, “It would appear that the head of our department, Doctor Wilson Frenwhit, has lost his bid to keep you medicated. And so, you, Miss Mathews, are being moved to a private room on a more appropriate unit, with a new doctor.”

  When I looked confused, she winked at me as she handed me a small paper bag with my few personal items. “The Court does find the truth in the paperwork occasionally.”

  With that, I was moved. Not just out of that area, but off that floor, and within ninety minutes, Tyler was with me.

  I told him the whole story while we sat and talk, and he tells me what’s been happening on the outside. Nothing good, but it’s nice to know it isn’t just him working on getting me out. And when it’s time for him to go, I don’t want him destroyed by my tears, so I give him a shaky smile, holding in the pain and keeping my hands down that want to hold on to him.

  Once he’s gone, two bags are delivered by a new nurse, who kindly lets me know the important items will be secured for safekeeping when I’m not using them. When she leaves, I dig into the first bag and find plush blankets and fluffy pillows, along with some of my own clothes. The other is my backpack full of homework along with my Kindle in a small clear bag.

  Taking the opportunity to make the bed, I turn it into something that feels less soul erasing. I sort the clothes he brought and find his sweatshirt and practice jersey. They smell like him. And it makes me angry. Not just that I’m here, but that my life was stripped away.

  Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck him!

  Tyler can’t be the only one getting his shit together.

  If I want my life back, I have to take it back. Which means first, I can’t look like a threat while I’m in this place. I have to act completely normal so they can’t say I’m not able to take care of myself. That means I attend their therapy sessions and do all the things I used to no matter what
I have to hold back behind clenched teeth.

  Starting with the basics. They don’t have tubs here, something about not wanting people to drown themselves. They have showers, and those are landmines for me. Most of the time, my memories aren’t clear, but the flashes are more vivid and ugly when I’m wet. Gabe attacked me in the rain, and just sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about a shower leaves me trembling. It takes thirty minutes for me to convince myself I can handle the feel of drops of water on my skin. Because I will handle it.

  Each step is a walk to the gates of hell, and the act of taking my clothes off and turning on the water is like exorcising a demon.

  I’m only in it for a few minutes, each drop of water acting like shrapnel hitting flesh, the sound in the small stall, a firefight, sending wracking sobs through my body…but I do it. Closing my eyes on each memory, I finish as fast as I can, shaking as I get out.

  Staring at my image in the mirror, I chant, you’re fine, you’re fine, over and over, digging my nails in until they split skin.

  I did it.

  And I’ll do it again tomorrow.

  With the door closed, in my own clothes for the first time in days, I crawl into a bed where the sheets don’t make me want to rip my skin off. They’re soft and smell amazing, taking some of the sting out of the room’s sterility. I’m still homesick, but Tyler’s made sure I have everything they’d let me have.

  Feeling raw inside and out, I decide to dissolve into another world. Reading was one of my favorite escapes when I lived at Emily’s, so focusing on the feeling of being dry and the smell of the new sheets, I grab my Kindle. When it flickers on, it’s fully charged and instead of my familiar set of books, there’s a new set of book covers.

  Each image is familiar. My brow twitches in suspicion. Tapping my library, I start to scroll, and there’s row after row of newly purchased books, waiting to be read. A sob seizes my chest, making it hard to breathe. Fingers flying, I access my lists and realize he bought not only my entire e-book list, but all my wish lists. He purchased everything. I don’t get a chance to laugh or cry at Tyler’s absurdity before the door opens and Nick comes in.