Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(13)

There was so much anger bottled up in him. It was in his abrupt tone and movements, the way his eyes narrowed when he watched me with that spark of fire burning in their depths.

He made me nervous, and at the same time I felt protected. I wasn’t certain why, except he had been the only person in my life who’d helped me.

Avoiding the mirror, I towel-dried my hair and then headed into the bedroom. I stopped when I saw Kilter standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head bowed.

Kilter had tattoos, which made him more intimidating than he already looked, especially when he held a knife in his hand—a hand that had one of those tattoos on the back of it. But I was accustomed to intimidating.

What I wasn’t accustomed to was directness, and Kilter had that, too. He was crass and harsh, didn’t tap dance around what he wanted to say or fill my head with sweet promises to gain my trust.

His chin lifted and his eyes met mine. “You ill? Dying? Or was the bastard starving you?”

Definitely direct.

The floor creaked under his weight as he approached me.

He was so close now that, when I inhaled, I smelled the dampness on his skin from when he came in the shower with me. He’d obviously changed, as his clothes were dry. He reached out and I stiffened, fighting the urge to run back into the bathroom.

After tucking my hair behind my ear, his hand slid around my neck to cup the back of it. He was gentle, and it was nice because I expected something different. His other hand settled on my hip where the edge of the long-sleeved, V-neck shirt stopped.

“Babe, tell me.”

I licked my lips and his eyes darted to them, brows drawing low over his dark eyes. “I’m not ill. Not really.”

“Why are you so thin?”

“I have trouble eating sometimes.” Actually, all the time, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why?”

Shit, why? There wasn’t a straight answer, and definitely not one I was ready to share with him or anyone else.

“I need you to…”

He stopped and stiffened as the scent of roses permeated the room. I looked around for whatever made him tense and noticed a mist by the door. I stepped back, but Kilter kept his grip on me and I couldn’t go far.

I stared in awe as the swirling blue mist solidified and, in its place, a woman appeared.

Holy hell.

She had long, blonde hair and smooth, white skin, too white, almost translucent. Fine, soft features graced her face and her eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen. Cobalt blue with specks of turquoise.

My eyes shifted to Kilter who watched the woman, and from his steadiness, I guessed he knew exactly who she was.

Her walk was like a whisper, feet gliding across the floor as she approached us.

I’d learned at the compound that there were many different kinds living amongst us, yet this woman was unique in that she appeared out of nowhere.

I’d never seen that, and I suspected Anton hadn’t either or he would’ve talked about it obsessively.

“Genevieve,” Kilter acknowledged.

Her smile was a breath of fresh air as her eyes perused over Kilter then came to me. “Rayne, is it?”

I nodded.

“I’m Genevieve. The Wraith of Water. A friend of Kilter’s.”

Kilter snorted.

She laughed and it was like a waterfall of rose petals.

I loved roses, loved all flowers.

Once Anton let me have a garden and I had several rose bushes. In the fall before the frost came, I’d pick all the petals off and scatter them like a beautiful red velvet carpet across my cement floor in my room. I’d sit on my bed and imagine I was on a river of rose petals taking me away from there.

“Well, more a friend of the Scars. I assume you know about them?”

“Yes.” Anton’s obsession.

She cast a quick glance at Kilter then back to me. “Perhaps we may speak in private?”

“Perhaps you can get the f*ck out.” Kilter’s fingers gently squeezed my side.

Her brows lifted. “The Wraiths sense this woman is important. Tor requested I see for myself.” Genevieve’s smile never faded, but her voice deepened and she punctuated every syllable with clarity. “I will forgive your disrespect once, Kilter. However, you push me and I will retaliate. Our prison in the realm is rather unpleasant. As is being sent to Rest.”

Sent to Rest? What was that? I tilted my head to look at Kilter. His eyes were on the Wraith, lips tight and brows drawn low over his dark eyes.

“If you thought she was important, you should’ve gotten her out of that hellhole. You didn’t. I did. You have no business here, Genevieve.”

“We didn’t sense her until Ryker returned and her presence was around him. I wish only to speak with her for a moment.” The woman turned her attention back to me. “Come, we’ll take a short walk.”

She knew my name and about the compound. She’d even sensed me around the other Scar, Ryker, who’d been my husband’s test subject. I shivered and my stomach cramped as I thought of Ryker and his anguish over the death of his wife, Hannah.

Kilter turned me toward him and cupped my chin, his thumb stroking back and forth like a pendulum. “She’s a meddling pain in the ass, but she’s a Wraith, and they are part of the Scars.” His eyes remained steady on me as he tucked a wet strand of hair back behind my ear again. “You don’t want to talk to her, then don’t. You do, fine, but you need me, I’ll be close. Your choice.”