Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(65)

“Anstice, incoming. Rayne’s been shot in the upper right thigh. She’s unconscious.”

“TOA?” Anstice replied.

“One minute.”

When I arrived, the gate was already open and I sped up the driveway. I jumped out of the car without shutting off the engine, ran around the other side, and threw open the door as Keir ran up.

“What happened?” he asked.

I undid her seatbelt then and scooped Rayne into my arms. “Vampire.” Her head flopped back onto my shoulder, her limbs hung limp, and the lower half of her dress was stained with blood. Fuck, she didn’t look good. No. Fuck, no. This was not happening.

“A vampire shot her? Since when do they carry guns?”

Yeah, exactly what I was thinking. “Where’s Anstice?”

“Guestroom,” Keir said as he ran ahead. “Timeline?”

“Ten minutes, maybe. She passed out in the car.” I glanced down at her as we ran inside. Jesus, she was pale.

I followed Keir into the basement and Anstice was in the room, the covers pulled back on the bed and the incense of sandalwood burning. I lowered Rayne onto the bed, knelt beside it, and leaned over, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. I jerked back when I noticed my hand tremble. What the hell? I was steady as a rock. I didn’t f*ckin’ tremble.

Anstice fired questions at me while she cut Rayne’s blood-soaked emerald gown from the hem to her thighs and peeled the material back. She released my belt and then we shifted Rayne to lie on her side, so she could see the bullet wound. I kept my hand in Rayne’s, not liking that it didn’t curl around mine.

Anstice nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “You have to let her go before I heal her.”

I glared.

She glared back.

Healers were powerful, and Anstice was one of the best, but still my head was f*cked up and logic had been lost the second I drove into the alley and saw Rayne running and a vampire after her. My heart stopped when I heard the f*ckin’ thing go off, and my eyes went from the vampire I was going to tear apart to Rayne who fell to the pavement.

“Not letting her go.”

“Kilter,” she warned. I didn’t need a warning. I knew the deal. I’d feel the pain of the gunshot when she healed her if I held Rayne’s hand.

Keir stepped forward. “Better if you wait outside.”

My hands curled into fists. “I’m not f*ckin’ leaving.”

Anstice shook her head at Keir who stayed next to me, but didn’t attempt to make me leave, which would’ve probably been stupid considering I wasn’t leaving until I knew she was going to be okay.

Anstice was the only Healer in Canada and one of a handful scattered across the world. Not only did a Scar have to be born with the ability, they also had to be female. The ancient Scar Zurina was also a Healer; however, Anstice’s bloodlines were stronger as her mother, Lillian, had been the most powerful Healer known to the Scars. Unlike Zurina, who could only heal Scars and witches, as they were descendants of one another, Anstice could heal any living being.

Anstice put her hand on top of mine that was in Rayne’s. My eyes shot to her. “Please. You won’t do Rayne any good if you’re weak from feeling the healing.”

I pursed my lips together then conceded and stood, stepping back from the bed.

Anstice laid her hands over the wound and closed her eyes. A soft glow emanated from the tips of her fingers then spread to her hands, giving the surface of her skin a translucent pink-orange hue.

Anstice’s body tensed and she sucked in air.

The scent of sandalwood grew stronger as Anstice’s heat built to a fierce, red glow. She closed her eyes, expression tight, and I knew she felt and saw everything Rayne had when she was shot.

After ten minutes, Anstice slowly drew back and opened her eyes. Keir moved in to her, looped his arm around her waist, and brought her in to his side.

“She’s in shock and will sleep for a while, but she’ll be fine.” Anstice’s voice quivered and Keir scowled.

I nodded and opened my mouth to say thanks, but the words were locked behind a century-old wall I’d built around myself.

Anstice half-smiled at me. “I felt it, you know.” She glanced up at Keir then back to me. “She cares for you, Kilter.”

They quietly left the room.





I OPENED MY EYES and jolted upright. Oh God, the vampire.

“About time you woke up.”

Kilter?

He was here. He found me. The vampire shot me in the leg and Kilter came for me.

He stood in the far right corner of the room, leaning against the wall, ankles and arms crossed, appearing casual and unconcerned. But his unkempt hair said otherwise, as if he’d run his hands through it repetitively. And so did his eyes as they drilled into me, intense and piercing.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“Three hours,” he replied. He uncrossed his limbs, pushed away from the wall, and stalked toward the bed. “Your leg is healed. Anstice said you’ll be fine.”

My eyes widened as I realized there was no pain in my thigh. I moved my right leg beneath the sheets—nothing. I threw the sheet aside, forgetting about the possibility of being nude, and shifted up on my left hip to look. I ran my hands over where the wound would’ve been. Nothing. Not even a mark.