Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(57)

We chatted with customers from the gallery, some of whom I recognized, others I didn’t. Delara had no trouble with conversation, and after fifteen minutes and a couple more glasses of champagne, I didn’t either.

Jedrik showed up in a black tuxedo with a gorgeous woman on his arm, who looked at least five foot nine and I soon discovered spoke little English. Delara leaned in to me when Jedrik wasn’t paying attention to us and whispered, “Just how he likes it, less talking, more action.” Delara rolled her eyes and I giggled.

I. Giggled. I’d never giggled before.

We spoke with Balen and Danni, who looked like a couple out of a glamour magazine. Danni wore a sexy, simple black gown with a slit that went up her leg to mid-thigh with tiny sparkly beads lining it. Balen, who kept his hand in hers, wore a tuxedo better than any man in the room, even Jedrik.

There was no sign of the Scars’ Taldeburu, Waleron. But after meeting him, he didn’t appear like the type to socialize, more like watch from the corner of the room with those ice-blue eyes accessing, watching. I hoped he’d make an appearance for Delara’s sake because he’d never be able to take his eyes off her.

“I’m going to find the washroom,” I whispered to Delara.

She set her empty glass on one of the waiter’s trays. “Okay, I’ll come.”

We made our way toward the entrance of the room, which led into a hallway where the washrooms were more than likely located.

“Delara,” a man called, lifting his glass and making his way toward us.

She turned to me. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”

“Okay,” I replied and headed out of the gala and down the hallway. I didn’t really have to go to the washroom, but I did have to sit and take my shoes off because I couldn’t feel my toes any longer.

I smiled at a group of ladies I passed then quickened my steps when I saw a bench ahead where I could sit while I waited for Delara.

“Rayne.”

I gasped. My grip on the glass slipped and a hand reached around me and grabbed it before it dropped. His chest leaned in to me from behind and his warm breath wafted across my bare neck.

“Roarke,” I whispered.

His hands settled on my hips and he gently urged me around to face him. “What are you doing here?” I shoved his hands off my hips and looked over my shoulder for any of the Scars because I was pretty sure they wouldn’t like him being here.

“You look stunning, Rayne.” He stepped back, eyes travelling the length of me then back up to meet my eyes. “Absolutely stunning.” He reached forward to touch me again. When I glared, he stopped. “I’m proud of you.”

I hadn’t expected that and I wasn’t sure how I felt about him saying something like that. Roarke was a mystery, and right now, I was uncertain about his motives. “You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here.”

“We need to talk. There are things you should know.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to know anything, Roarke. Not from you.” What he brought with him was everything I was trying to heal from, the compound, being used for my abilities, a world I wanted to forget.

His jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. “You need to hear me out.”

“I don’t need to do anything.”

He stiffened. “She will come for you, Rayne. The woman from the compound.” What was he talking about? “Give me five minutes. Then you can go back to your Scars and tell them everything.”

No. I couldn’t do this. Not now. “It’s not a good time. Maybe we can—”

“We need to do this now,” he demanded then grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. I stumbled on my heels and tried to pull back, but his grip was firm. “I have a feeling if I try to warn them, I’ll be dead before I have the chance.”

That was probably true. Roarke was a Grit and had worked for my husband, which meant he’d been a part of capturing Ryker and killing the other Scars. Delara let him walk once, but I doubted that would happen a second time. I still didn’t want to go with him.

“Roarke, let me go.”

He stopped. “We need to go outside. That Tracker friend of yours will pick up my scent in here.”

If Delara saw him with me, there’d be a scene, and I had no intention of ruining Danni’s night. Maybe I owed Roarke for all the times he’d tried to protect me in that place. “Okay. Five minutes. If I’m gone any longer, they’ll look for me.”

Roarke nodded and led me outside and off to the side of the large red A.G.O. sculpture. “They shouldn’t be able to scent me here.”

I slipped my hand from his and crossed my arms, meeting his eyes. Then I said what I’d wanted to say six months ago when I saw him.

“Why, Roarke?” I said. “Years you watched my husband abuse me. Years? And you did nothing.” He tensed and reached for my hand, but I shifted out of his grasp and continued. “Why didn’t you get me out of that place if you care so much?” Anger filtered into me as the emotions whirled. “Did you like knowing I couldn’t escape? Or did you enjoy watching Anton use me?”

“Fuck, no.” He ran his hand through his dark strands. “God, Rayne. It wasn’t like that.” Again he reached for my hand, and I again moved away. He sighed, bowing his head. “Damn it, I couldn’t. I tried to, but Rayne, I only stayed to protect you. If I left, he would’ve destroyed you. He didn’t know when to stop. His obsession was killing you. That’s when I hunted the Scars. To draw his attention away from you.”