Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(39)

“Look at me,” he whispered next to my ear.

I didn’t. I kept counting.

“What more do you want, Delara? I’m giving all I can. You know I can never be with you for more than what I offer.”

What he wanted was to be occasional f*ck buddies. Sex. Passionate, raw sex. And I knew why he offered this—so I’d give up f*cking other men. Another way for him to control me without giving an ounce of himself.

But sex with him was like jumping off the CN Tower in a freefall—the sweet caresses, the butterflies, the warm sensations swirling through my body. But the inevitable had to happen—landing—bruised body and soul, heart ripped apart. Dying inside.

“Maitagarri, look at me.”

No way in hell. Not when he’d see the desire pulsating in my eyes along with the pain and the anguish of his words. It was as if he were slowly digging a knife into my heart, inch by selfish inch, then slashing it apart.

God, I loved this man. Or at least the man he used to be. The reminder always close at hand… a crinkled piece of paper I refused to throw away.

I pulled from his grasp and instantly the coldness seeped into my veins.

I was pretty damn certain he’d let me walk away, he always did. The guy had pride the size of Asia. Chasing after a woman was not his thing. He wanted to satisfy our undeniable sexual chemistry whenever he wanted, and I wanted him to love me.

We’d never work and never agree.

“Delara.” His tone was a warning.

I spun around. “You said that day in the realm you’d try. But that was a lie, so I’d stay away from Edan. Wasn’t it? Just like why you’re here now, to make certain I stay away from Liam. You can’t have it both ways. I want all of you or nothing. You can’t—no, you won’t—give yourself to me, and I can’t just have sex with you.” I closed my eyes, head lowering, then said quietly, “Do you remember what you said to me when we were together?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “You said, ‘No matter what we face, I belong to you for eternity.’ Guess that was a lie, too.”

I walked into my bedroom and shut the door.





I was distracted with thoughts of Kilter on my way home from therapy. Well, it was rare I ever stopped thinking about him. His image haunted me constantly, and I wondered where he was and why he’d disappeared. I contemplated asking Delara, but I hadn’t gotten the nerve up. Besides, it had been his choice not to contact me.

I tried to slip in the back door of the gallery without disturbing Danni, who was painting, but I stumbled on the lip of the doorway and she looked up. Who was I kidding? Danni was a Scar, and according to Delara, a Reflector, which meant she felt people’s emotions, and since mine were currently sparking through me, she’d probably sensed me a block away.

“Hey, Rayne. You busy?” Danni called.

“Umm, no.” But the real answer would be a solid yes because my head was reeling from my session.

I hated the sessions and every day was a battle whether to walk through her door or run in the other direction as fast as I could. Unfortunately, running I sucked at and a part of me wanted to see where this would lead.

But today had been rough because I’d been thinking about Kilter and Rebecca pushed me to talk about what was bothering me, but I refused to mention him. I had to forget him.

He left. I got it. Now, I just had to accept it.

“Come here. I want you to look at this.” Danni stepped back from the painting she was working on and tapped her paintbrush to her chin, cocking her hip. “What do you see?”

I came up next to her and stared at a subtle wash of blues and grays with a hint of lavender. “Umm, well, I don’t know. It looks good though.”

“But what does it look like to you?”

I stared at the fresh, wet brush strokes. “I guess it reminds me of the sea after a storm.” Like Kilter was a turbulent storm, but the storm in him calmed and gentled when he was around me. “Umm, the blues here—” I pointed to the right “—going across the water with the lavenders in the distance tells me a storm has come and gone. It looks like it was violent and unbending with its wrath.” Kilter was a lot like that. I’d seen it when he killed Anton, the violence in him, but then he took my hand and the violence calmed. “It looks like the sun is going to peek out from behind that cloud any moment.” I pointed up in the far right corner.

When I looked back at Danni, her wide, shocked eyes were on me. “Wow. Study art at all?”

“A little.” Actually, a lot. Anton had been adamant about me being knowledgeable in certain areas. Art had been one of them, and I’d enjoyed the days when I sat and admired the brilliance of many artists’ work.

“You’re hired,” Danni announced.

“Excuse me?”

“I need someone to watch the gallery a few days a week so I can work in my studio at home. Balen had it built for me over the garage with skylights and, well, he outdid himself. So, I need someone to work here. Show people around, give your opinion when asked, and, hopefully, sell my work. Can you start tomorrow?”

“I don’t think—”

Danni tossed her brush in the glass of water and reached for me, her hand slipping in mine. “I pay well. I mean, I’ve never hired anyone before, but I will pay well.”