Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(40)

I did need a job and I had skills, but no experience, and I wasn’t eager to walk the streets looking for something. It was hard enough walking to my therapist’s office. Being interviewed by a bunch of strangers knowing they were scrutinizing me was definitely on my list of things not to do. But I did need a job.

And I wanted a job. This is what I wanted. It was the first time I’d felt the bubbling in my chest—excitement. This was something I could do myself, not because I was forced to, but because it gave me a purpose.

“Umm, yeah. Okay.”

“Great,” Danni said. “It’s pretty boring most of the time, but you can read or even paint if you want. I know you have therapy every morning until eleven, but I’ll be here to open up so you can work from whenever you get back until we close. What about Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Danni beamed. “Great. Here, I’ll show you my work. They’re done in series. Oh, and that painting is not for sale, no matter what anyone offers to pay.” Danni pointed to the oversized canvas portrait of Balen. “And you will be hounded to sell it. There’s one lady who comes in at least twice a month and offers to buy it. Every time her price goes up. Just tell her no, it’s not for sale.”

Danni took me on a tour of her paintings and we talked about each one, and for a while, I felt connected to something and forgot about my battle, and there was peace.





THE MOMENT I WALKED into Liam’s club, my heartbeat quickened and saliva pooled in my mouth. The scent of blood pumping through everyone’s veins was so overwhelming I staggered and turned to dart back out the door.

I had my palm on it when I stopped. If I left, Liam would come after me. This was the plan. I had to stick with the plan.

I’d been locked in a hotel room for five days, and I hadn’t realized how powerful the cravings were until tonight. The need to taste blood disgusted me, and yet, as I weaved my way through the crowd, I licked my lips and my eyes lingered on patrons’ throats.

How was I going to make it through tonight?

But I had to. Jedrik promised once I met with Liam and convinced him I had no blood craving, so he thought the drop of blood had no effect, then Jedrik would get me out of here. Ten minutes. I could do this.

My eyes landed on Liam. Shit. Maybe I couldn’t. There was a strange draw toward him, as if my body was on a string attached to him and he was slowly reeling me in.

I would not become his puppet. Fuck that.

I raised my chin, took a deep breath, and smiled.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he made his way toward me with long, confident strides. He had a captivating allure about him, handsome face with a strong, carved jaw, and high cheek bones. When he smiled, as he did now, it was like drawing a kid to candy, irresistible.

Liam stopped in front of me and kissed both my cheeks. “There she is. My witch.” His palm firm on the small of my back, he tugged me toward him. “It’s been too long, my love. Where have you been hiding?” He leaned in to me, lips grazing my ear as he whispered, “Mmmm, you thirst my blood, don’t you?”

I did, but he couldn’t know that. “No. I’m fine actually.” He scowled, but didn’t say anything. “And I wasn’t hiding.” A lie, of course, and I thanked God vampires couldn’t read witches’ minds. “I had a few things to look after.” I half-smiled, looking up at him.

Jedrik told me to play it cool, but all I wanted to do was get as far away from Liam as I could. I had to get through tonight, make Liam believe everything was okay.

“Come to my table. I’m finishing off some business.” He tilted his head, tongue sliding across the hollow of my throat. Tingling erupted, but it wasn’t good tingles; this was warning tingles as my thirst for blood intensified. “Easy, love. You will taste me soon enough.”

Shit, could he sense it? I had to be really careful or this would blow up in my face.

He led me through the crowd, most of whom nodded and smiled at Liam. Some offered hands, which Liam graciously accepted—he was a gentleman after all—nothing fazed him and everyone either liked him or was so frightened of him they wanted to keep on his good side. The humans, of course, were oblivious to what he was.

Liam stopped one of the waiters. “Two red wines at my table.”

“I’d rather have water, Liam.” Having a glass filled with red liquid sitting in front of me was not going to help my intensifying thirst for blood.

“Two wines,” Liam reiterated to the waiter and the guy darted into the crowd before I could say anything.

The bastard was testing my control, and as stubborn and determined as I was, he just might win this battle, because as we weaved through the crowd, my body screamed for blood while my mind rejected it. I couldn’t focus on anything without splotches of red impairing my vision. I wanted to run,, yet part of me yearned to grab Liam and sink my teeth into his neck.

But that was what he wanted. Why he asked me here tonight. To see if I was ready to willingly drink his blood.

Liam’s reserved table was located at the back of the club close to the dance floor, but far enough away not to be bumped and bothered by some of the more untamed and intoxicated patrons. The booth was clothed in red velvet with a black marble table in the center with red candles flickering shadows across the surface. The entire club was done in black and crimson with a hint of white, like a candle or throw pillow in the lounging area.