Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(63)

Fuck, I liked that she’d met my eyes and didn’t flinch under my glower as pop dripped off my chin and splattered my clothes. Yeah, I’d been attracted to her and wanted to throw her up on the conveyer belt and f*ck her right there and then.

“Damien? Why me?”

“Get some sleep, Abby.” Avoidance was the safest explanation.

She remained quiet for a few minutes, and I’d thought she’d fallen asleep when she spoke again. “What if I remain like this? I mean, never changing, but never being normal. You can’t stay here babysitting me forever.”

I tensed. “One day at a time, babe. That’s all I can handle. We’ll see how each day goes and not keep track of how long it takes.”

“Liam. Is he looking for me?” she asked.

“Not that I’m aware.” I talked to Jedrik almost daily and Liam had been quiet as a mouse.

“Strange,” she murmured. She rubbed her cheek against me and I grit my teeth as my cock jerked. “It’s odd that he didn’t come after us. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“No. He’d have been stupid to come after me.”

She laughed and I hadn’t expected to hear that sound again. Hadn’t heard her laugh since the hotel. And I f*ckin’ missed it. I missed the Abby I had in my arms right now. She wasn’t sassy and quick witted and stubborn right now, but the sane and sweet parts of her were still here.

“I’ll never regret it. Those nights we had. Even if we lost something precious from it.” This was the first time she’d mentioned the loss of her child, and I felt a tug on my heart. Her child? No, it had been our child.

Her body jerked and her breath quickened, her fingers curling into a fist in my shirt. “Damien, I don’t think you should be near me anymore.”

I peered down at her and the laughter and spark in her eyes had been replaced with pain. I put one leg over the side of the bed to get up then stopped. Shit, maybe this was a mistake, but I had nothing to lose at this point.

I put my leg back up on the bed, bent one knee, and moved her closer to me, so her body was half on top of me. I slid my arm around her to rest it on her lower back and keep her locked to me. Then I pried her hand from the material of my shirt and linked our hands together. “What if we try and ride this one out together?”

I felt the wetness on my shirt from her tears and I squeezed her, but didn’t say anything. Instead, I silently prayed for the strength to carry this girl through another day.





THE INSTANT I SAW his fangs, I tried to slam the door. His palm hit it and shoved it open the rest of the way, knocking me off my feet to the floor.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A delicious present wrapped in a stunning emerald gown.” He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot and turned the deadbolt.

I scuttled backward on my hands and feet as he stalked toward me. My back hit the wall and I used it to push myself to my feet. Then I dove for the front of the gallery and the front door.

I made it two steps before his hand latched onto my wrist. I screamed and he yanked me sideways into the wall so hard, my breath knocked out of me.

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head as he trapped me between his body and the wall. “Running will make this so much worse than it needs to be.” The strong scent of black licorice plowed into me, and I turned my head away, stomach churning. “He failed to mention how beautiful you are. A vampire can’t resist beautiful things, you know.”

Vampires were fast, strong, and agile. Anton had one he’d been experimenting on for five years, but I only saw him once being taken into the lab in chains, although he’d barely been able to walk.

He released my wrist and cupped my chin, long fingernails biting into my skin. “He wants you alive, but he said nothing about tasting you.” My eyes widened at the thought of his fangs sinking into my neck. He laughed. “What? You’ve never been tasted by one of us? Surprising considering the company your husband kept.” I swallowed. “It only hurts for a minute then—” he licked his lips, “—it’s not so bad. Unless, of course, we drink too much.” He shrugged. “Then you die.”

I wasn’t going back to being used. Not now. Not ever. I’d rather die. He brushed a strand of hair away from my neck.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.” He ran his finger down the column of my throat.

No. This wasn’t happening. Six months. I’d only had six months.

He grinned as he leaned closer. Then his eyes closed and he hissed as his fangs appeared.

I reacted. With the heel of my hand, I shoved as hard as I could upward into his nose. I heard the distinct crack as it gave under the pressure.

“You bitch.” He stumbled back, holding his hand over his face, blood leaking between his fingers.

I pushed off the wall and scrambled for the front door. I banged into an easel, and both it and the painting crashed to the floor.

Run. The dress swished around my legs and slowed me down. Oh, God, I wasn’t going to make it to the door.

His footsteps barreled after me.

I ran as fast as I could, but he was right behind me. Within seconds, he slammed into me and I went sprawling forward and landed hard on to the floor, his weight on top of me. His fingers bunched into my hair and he jerked my head back.