Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(14)

“What does she want?”

“Don’t know that, babe, and doubt she’d tell me if I asked. Best guess, to get a feel for who you are.”

I didn’t like that. “I’d rather not.”

He nodded once and turned to the Wraith. “Fuck off.”

The woman’s smile dropped and suddenly she looked scary as her eyes narrowed and blazed turquoise.

She stepped closer to us, her long silk dress rustling against her long legs, and I hadn’t realized how tall she was, maybe five-nine. She looked in her late twenties, although her actual age I knew could be hundreds of years.

By the way she addressed Kilter, she had the confidence of a dragon, but with the looks of a swan. Even when she walked, it was as though she floated on a cloud.

She stopped a foot away. “You were a good man at one time, Kilter.”

What did she mean? Why would she say that?

“I was a trusting man. Now I’m not.”

She was silent for a second, watching him, and he remained stoic under her powerful gaze. Her eyes shifted to me and I leaned into Kilter, although I was already as close as I could get. She gently laid her hand on my forearm and I held my breath, but didn’t move away.

“You’ve been hurt a great deal.” Her words filtered into my head and I gasped. “Not just physically, but much more than that.”

“Genevieve,” Kilter warned.

She continued, eyes soft, voice softer. “Kilter is driven and harsh. His past is one we all failed at. He’s suffered and endured more than most, but I suspect you see that in him.” She paused, her eyes glimmering with warmth. “He’s protective of you, and I feel his possessiveness. But he is not your husband. I have faith he will never harm you.” Genevieve sighed. “Kilter will have a hard time watching you continue to fade. I trust you understand what I am saying.”

I did. Because every day, I felt my body slowly failing me, and yet I no longer fought it. The fight had died a long time ago.

“Time can heal the most broken souls if you let it.” Genevieve smiled, but there was sadness to it. “I’ll leave before he does something foolish, but know that I will always be near if you need me.”

Her hand left my arm and she stepped back. “You are not a prisoner here, Rayne.” Her gaze shifted to Kilter as she said in a hard tone, “And you may leave if that is your wish.”

Kilter’s fingers splayed on my hip twitched, and I expected he was going to respond to that when her form dissolved into mist then disappeared.

Whoa. Overwhelmed was an understatement.

I was freaked out that the woman had been able to speak to me in my head. Not because I didn’t know about the ability, it was that she managed to get through my blocks I had around my thoughts. Blocks I’d spent years building.

“Like I said, meddling. You good?”

“Yeah.” But I didn’t like having someone speak to me in my head. It was invasive and scary. “Can I… can I be alone?”

A subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth and his hand squeezed my hip. “Fuck, yeah. You need me, I’ll be upstairs.” He let me go and quietly left.

I sat in the wide lounge chair by the window, fighting the raging emotions I swore died inside me years ago. I wanted to curl up and sleep for weeks.

But I wasn’t safe here. I don’t think I’d ever feel safe again.

There was a faded memory before my parents died when I’d felt safe. I remember my room all dressed in pink, subtle and soft like cotton candy. There’d been frills on my bed and the curtains, and I had a pink blanket laying over the back of a rocking chair where my mom used to sit and read to me. When I was older, I’d sit and read to myself.

Had it been a dream? Why were so many memories from my childhood gone? Why couldn’t I remember what my parents looked like anymore?

I pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my chin on my knees. Despite what the Wraith, Genevieve, said, this was another prison. Just a decorated one.





WHEN I ENTERED THE kitchen, breakfast was already made and on the dining room table in the next room. Unfortunately, that meant the other Scars were sitting at the table eating.

“Hey, buddy,” Jedrik said as he shoveled in a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“I’m not your f*ckin’ buddy.” I grabbed a plate from the cupboard above the toaster and moved to the table to pile on eggs, two pieces of rye bread, a few slices of well-done bacon, and a slice of tomato. Then I sat across the table from Jedrik.

Hack, who was in the seat at the head of the table, reached across and grabbed two pieces of toast and his favorite morning vegetable, green beans. I shook my head with disgust as he made a green bean sandwich with a shitload of hot mustard and Tabasco sauce.

Jedrik laughed. “You know, Hack, ever thought of going on a reality show? ‘Cause, man, you could win eating competitions hands down.”

“Not eating bugs. I hate those things—June bugs, cockroaches.” He made an exaggerated shiver. “Could you imagine the sick crunch those suckers would make? Not happening.”

“Hey, boys.” Anstice strolled in wearing jeans and a white blouse. Her massive furball dog ambled in after her, probably hoping for leftovers. She grabbed a plate from the pile at the end of the table and sat beside Jedrik. “What things?”