Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(47)

But the reason I didn’t remember about the condoms was because I’d never been that out of control with a woman. It had been this driving need to take her again and again.

Irresistible. Raw. Wild.

And f*ckin’ stupid.

I knew better than to f*ck a goddamn witch. One who was young, unbelievably sexy, and a smart-ass.

Jedrik must have enjoyed himself sending me that email with the subject line ‘Condom fail.’ I thought it was a joke.

Then shock, disbelief, and, finally, fury simmered for the flight back to Toronto, only to emerge when I met Jedrik at Keir’s and got the full lowdown on Abby’s situation.

Why the hell would she drink vampire blood? It didn’t make sense. Did she want to be a vampire? Be Liam’s f*ckin’ slave?

That sounded nothing like the chick I knew. She had trouble giving me control when I f*cked her. Of course, I always got my way and Abbs learned that fast.

The girl was confident enough to hit on me at the grocery store. It was unexpected when most women looked at me and ran in the opposite direction. My scowl, tatts, and indifference kept chicks at a distance. They were a pain in the ass; case in point, the situation I was in now.

What had I been thinking when I agreed to detox her? Shit, we didn’t even know if it would work. Balen had been the only one to ever fight off the poison of the vampire blood, and it had taken him two f*ckin’ years.

Abby was what? Twenty-one, a witch, and pregnant. With my kid. It was an impossible situation.

I ran my hand through my short, dark strands then pounded the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. “Fuck.”

“Damien?”

I made the mistake of looking at her. Her long lashes fluttered—ones I’d kissed, licked, and touched with the tip of my finger.

Irre-f*ckin-sistible

“Damien, I’m sorry. I told Jedrik not to tell you. I didn’t want you to know. ” Her palm rested on her abdomen, and my hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I just think maybe it will be best for us both if someone else does this detox thing with me.”

I grunted.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate you coming all the way here, but I have no idea what is going to happen, and Damien, I don’t want you to see me like this.” Her gravelly voice drifted off on the last few words.

“There’s no one else.” And there was no one else, because only Balen, Jedrik, and now Delara knew about this. If Waleron found out, there was the issue of the Wraiths becoming involved, and, of course, Trinity. Most likely, the Wraiths would insist on Abby’s death, and Trinity… well, who knew what that bitch would do. Throw Abby to the wolves, literally.

“Maybe Jedrik can—”

“If Jedrik disappears for any length of time, Waleron will know. I’m a solitary, no Talde, and Waleron contacts me through email or cell. I’m the only choice.”

“But—”

“Abbs,” I barked.

She lowered her head and shut up. A much different reaction to my warning than the last time we were together. I remember her laughing when I’d instructed her to take off her clothes and lie on the bed. Then she stood on the bed and did a dance for me without removing a single piece of clothing. That lasted five minutes, and it only lasted that long because she did look f*ckin’ cute and sexy as hell, even if she wasn’t naked.

Then I’d tackled her, ripped off her clothes, and showed her what happens when she ignores my instructions. She’d begged and moaned under my tongue for a good hour.

“Maybe I can do this myself and you can—”

“I’ll deal with this shit.” I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the car jerked forward.

“I’m not anyone’s shit,” Abby retorted.

I felt her eyes delving into me, but I refused to look at her. I didn’t need to, because I knew exactly her expression—pursed lips with adorable furrowed brows and flaring nostrils. She had that expression when I called her a ‘little red-haired pixie.’

I’d laughed. Then laughed even more when she threw a pillow at me. Then another. And another. Then she yanked on her clothes and was halfway to the hotel room door before I stopped laughing. I wasn’t done with her and had no intention of letting her leave.

Then I did something very uncharacteristic of me, and the laughing had already been uncharacteristic, I bent, snatched a pillow off the floor, and threw it at her. That started the pillow fight that ended up being a wild f*ck among thousands of feathers.

“At the moment, you are my shit to deal with, Abbs.” I waited for the punch in the arm or her words of retaliation. It never came. I glanced at her and she stared out the window, her thin brows drawn low over her glassy, tear-filled eyes.

It was instinctive. I reached across the space between us and swept the back of my hand down her cheek. “Christ, Abbs. I didn’t mean it like that.” How did I say this without hurting her feelings? “I never wanted a relationship or a child.” And this was why I kept my distance from chicks. Dealing with their emotional shit was like lighting my head on fire.

She nodded. “Yeah. Me neither. Guess we don’t always get what we want.”

Silence.

“Babe, you won’t become a vampire.”

She didn’t say anything.

I swerved onto the shoulder and put the car in park. “If you don’t drink blood, you can’t Transition. Period. And I won’t let you drink it.”