Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(23)

“No,” she replied.

“Most chicks would be worried about ruining their hair.”

She turned and walked down the path. “I’m not most chicks.”

“Yeah, I got that.” And it wasn’t because she was sick; it was because there was something different in her. She was stronger than she let on, but it was like she’d given up. Her fight had been too long with no way out.

We walked in silence a few minutes, the sound of our feet splattering through the puddles, which had gathered along the path.

She rubbed her arms and I noticed goose bumps on her neck.

“You need a jacket. Why the hell would you come out here in the rain without a jacket?” It pissed me off that she wasn’t concerned for her own well-being. Not eating. Out here in the rain without a jacket. I might not give a shit about anyone, but at least I looked after myself.

A strand of wet hair latched onto her mouth and I raised my hand and gently pushed it aside with one finger.

What the hell was I doing? I didn’t do tender and sweet.

I snagged her wrist and brought her to a stop. “Babe, you need help. Don’t know shit about what’s going on, but right now, all I do know is you’re pale as f*ck. Thin. Weak. And you barely eat.”

She pulled her arm free and kept walking. I bowed my head, took a deep breath and went after her. “Rayne, f*ck, I want to help.” She ignored me as she continued down the path. “Jesus Christ, woman, you’re dying,” I finally exploded.

“I know,” she whispered, and they were the sweetest words I’d ever heard, because if she knew, then there was hope. Her steps slowed and her shoulders slumped. “I know something’s wrong. I shouldn’t feel this way all the time, but getting out of this is scarier than staying where I am.”

I knew exactly what she saying. It was simpler to continue what you’re comfortable doing, easier to keep emotions hidden rather than face them.

“I used to be terrified of horses.” Fuck. I hated feeling vulnerable. And sharing anything about my past was like ripping my guts out. “I was seven. Horse reared up, lost its balance, and fell backward right on top of me. Knocked me out cold. Horse was fine. I had a hell of a headache and a broken arm. I swear that stallion laughed at me every single time I walked past his stall after that.” I felt her eyes on me as we walked. “Never got over it. My brother, Ulrich, teased me relentlessly for years, but as soon as I came near a horse, my heart pounded and my palms became hot and sweaty. It was a hell of a lot easier to avoid the beasts than face the fear. So, I did.”

We moved off the path and strolled across the grass to the cobblestone wall enclosing the property. “Did you ever get on a horse again?” she asked.

The earth was spongy beneath my feet, and it matched how I was feeling inside. “Yeah, sure. Had to. Took a good ten years though.” I kicked at the long grass. “Scariest day of my life. I actually threw up on the day I decided to conquer my fear.”

“Why did you?” She stopped at the wall, her palm resting on it.

I half-smiled as my eyes met hers and I raised my hand to slowly trail my thumb down her cheek. “It ruled my life, babe. I couldn’t do things I wanted because I wouldn’t get on a horse. Since you know about the Scars, I assume you’re aware we’re immortal?” She nodded. “Well, back in the eighteen hundreds, horses were transportation, so it limited where I could go. I was sick and tired of the hold it had on my life, so I set a date and decided that was the day I’d get on that stallion. It was the best thing I could have done.” I slipped my hand in hers and gently squeezed. “Is it ruling your life?”

She nodded, lowering her head as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

“Babe, you aren’t alone now. We can beat this.”





The tension vibrated in him as he told me the story about his fear of the horse, and when he took my hand I melted. Kilter didn’t seem the type to share anything of himself, and yet he had, and I knew why, so I’d trust him.

But none of this could last. This. Him. Everything. It was temporary. Eventually, they’d discover my secret and use me like Anton.

I pulled my hand from his grasp. “I think we should head back now.”

“Babe.” Kilter reached for me, but I dodged his hand, shifting right.

He cursed beneath his breath.

I glanced at him and saw the scowl and frustration etched on his face. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that I put it there. But it was better this way. If I became too close to Kilter, I’d be trapped in the same life he’d rescued me from.

“I may not understand what you’re going through, but…” He hesitated and his lips pursed together, forming harsh lines around his mouth. “Fuck, I can’t promise to be patient. That’s not me. But, if you need me, I’m here for you.”

An ache gripped my chest and I yearned to blurt everything out. To trust him. To finally be able to let go and stop hiding. But just because he saved me and showed me kindness didn’t mean he could be trusted. Anton had been kind after my parents died. I’d trusted him. My parents trusted him, and all of it was a lie.

We walked along the path toward the house, neither of us saying anything. There was tension in his broad shoulders and his hands were curled into fists. Even his stride was stiff.