Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(104)

He pulled me to the far wall, pushing me against it. “Stay.”

Coldness seeped into my body, but it wasn’t from the damp cement wall I leaned against, it was from fear. No matter how much I’d changed since Anton, I was still scared, but it didn’t mean I was giving up.

That was what was different. I could be scared, but I’d fight. I wouldn’t give in to them. I’d die before I did. And I had a feeling that might happen.

The door opened and shut at the top of the stairs. Then high heels clicked on the stairs. I bit the inside of my cheeks as I waited for her to appear. And I knew who it had to be—Jasmine.

The two vampires guarding the stairs stepped aside and she strolled into the room. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed and she looked seriously pissed off. My heart raced and I leaned back against the wall as my knees threatened to give out.

“He refused?” Jasmine shouted.

Oh, God. Even when we were fighting in the alley, she hadn’t shouted; she had been in control. Now she looked out of control.

She approached Liam. “For his own daughter?”

Her anger pulsed from her body and seeped into me. My breath hitched when I felt all the hatred inside her. But there was something else mixing with it…love—but not a good love. This was infatuated and possessive love.

Her eyes darted to me, and despite wanting to cower under her gaze, I raised my chin and met her glare. She approached, stopping inches away. “You’re worthless.” Then she slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side and my vision blurred for a second.

Jasmine backhanded me again.

A warm trickle of blood slid from the corner of my mouth.

“Jasmine,” Liam warned. “She is no good to us beaten or dead.”

Jasmine scoffed. “Bitch is useless to me now. Kill her and be done with it.”

“No,” Liam objected. “They’ll come for her. I know Delara. She won’t allow her daughter to stay with us, and Waleron will do anything for her.”

“I told you they wouldn’t negotiate,” Jasmine fumed. “She comes with me and we do this my way. Losing him is unacceptable.”

My gut twisted.

Jasmine grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. “I won’t wait any longer. I will have him back, and until I do, she will pay the price.”





I stood in the front doorway facing a man I never thought in my immortal lifetime I’d ever face without plunging a knife through his heart. But I’d do anything to get Rayne back, even if it meant using a Grit to do it.

Keir came up behind me. “What’s he doing here?” His hand was on his hip where his knife sat.

“I called him.” I’d found the piece of paper on the floor of Rayne’s bedroom. “Grit saved my life. Not sure why yet, but right now, I don’t give a shit. He knows more than we do, so he’s here and he’s going to help us.”

Keir glared at Roarke. “You f*ck with us, you see that vase over there,” he nodded to a blue, glass vase sitting on the narrow table in the foyer, “your head is going in there as a trophy.”

Roarke glanced at the vase and then back at Keir. The guy had balls, that was for f*ckin’ sure because the corner of his lips curved up. Jesus, Grits had a f*ck of a lot of nerve. He was in a house full of Scars and he didn’t look at all concerned. In another lifetime, I may have respected him. Too bad we were immortal and had no other lifetimes.

Roarke propped up against the frame of the door and crossed his arms. “Liam failed. Jasmine will take her, and I know where she is staying.” Roarke no longer had blood on him, nor did he look in pain, meaning he’d healed, and if he’d healed, it meant he’d killed a human and sucked the life out of them to do it.

Waleron came out of the library, stopped, looked at Roarke, and then gave a curt nod. He must have overheard our conversation; otherwise, Roarke would be dead right now.

“She wants you,” Roarke said while keeping his eyes on Waleron. “But I suspect you knew that already.”

Waleron didn’t say anything.

Roarke continued, “She’ll be expecting us, but not tonight. If we go now, Rayne may have a chance, but,” he paused, looking at me, “Jasmine has a favorite device. It’s impossible to get out of without—”

Waleron approached and said, “A key.”

Roarke nodded. “I’m guessing you’re familiar with the device?” Again Waleron nodded. “As am I.”

“What f*ckin’ device?” I didn’t like the word device and my girl in the same sentence.

“Rayne will be wearing a collar,” Waleron stated. “It cannot be removed without a key. If it’s attempted, the collar will snap closed on her neck and kill her instantly.”

I heard a gasp and the shuffling of feet behind us. I turned and saw Jedrik and Delara standing by the dining room doorway. Delara was pale, her eyes wide and filled with horror.

Roarke glanced from Waleron to Delara then back again. “She wants you both to see Rayne suffer and,” Roarke directed his gaze on Delara, “she blames you for Waleron escaping her.”

I couldn’t keep my cool any longer and shouted, “Damn it, where the hell will they take her?”

“I tracked her to a house the night before last,” Roarke said. “It’s in the north end of the city. On Fairmount Street. Number eleven.”