Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(74)

“Jesus, Kilter, I’m sorry. I don’t know if it’s better you know the truth or not, but it’s the truth. We never abandoned you. You were our strength in the Talde.” Tye shook his head and headed for the stairs. He paused, hand on the railing. “We f*ckin’ loved you, man.”





I WAS SHOCKED. AND hurt. Hurt because of Kilter’s pain. Being abandoned by those he’d protected for years. He thought they’d left him to die while his brother tortured him for years. Then believing that the woman he loved had suffered a horrible death.

God, no wonder why Kilter was so crass. Why he mistrusted. Everyone he cared about had betrayed him. His brother, the woman he loved, and he thought the Scars, his friends.

It was at this moment I knew I loved him, not because I pitied him, but because I understood him. I found the piece of Kilter that had been broken off. Fragmented. The piece that cut so deep that he’d been unable to repair.

But his past—my past—that made up who we were now. We were both broken in different ways by those we trusted. But it’s what brought us together.

I laid my cheek on his chest and traced the tatts running down his arm with the tip of my finger. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much, but there were no other words, and Kilter wouldn’t want anything more.

“Yeah. Me, too,” he replied quietly. He rested his chin on the top of my head and his arm snaked around my back, holding me close.

It had been a long time since I’d used my ability, and I’d never planned to use it again. But seeing Kilter holding Tye up against the wall, the rage so intense, I felt it like a suffocating fog in the air. It had been overpowering, and the pain ran so deep that he couldn’t even see clearly.

As soon as I touched him, his emotions hit me all at once in brilliant colors, but there was no beauty in it. It was violent, like a rainbow set in flames. I’d never been so overwhelmed by such intense emotions before, and I’d been uncertain if I’d be able to calm him.

“Babe? You okay?” He tensed, arm tightening around me.

“Yeah.” I was. Just lightheaded. It came with using my ability.

“Look at me.” His hand cupped my chin and he tilted my head up; then he scowled. “Fuck. You’re not okay.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a little weak. It’s you I’m worried about.”

He grunted. “Babe, been living with this shit a long time. Now, it’s over.”

I frowned because it was never really over, just pushed back to the corners of your mind.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

Before I could object, Kilter scooped me up in his arms, strode across the room, kicked the bedroom door open then closed, and carried me to his bed.

“Kilter, I’m good. Really.” I was, but I was getting Kilter would always be overprotective. That was ingrained in him, one of the pieces that made up who he was. And I wanted that piece, too. I wanted all his pieces.

He ignored me as he gently lowered me to the bed and sat on the edge. “So you’re a Scar with a kickass ability. Were you thinking of telling me that bit of information?”

“No,” I said. His brows lifted. “I don’t like using my ability.” I hadn’t intended to ever use my ability again, but I was realizing I couldn’t hide anymore. I didn’t want to hide, because hiding was weak and I was doing everything I could to be strong.

“He make you use it?” Kilter asked.

I nodded. I knew he was talking about Anton. “Over and over again until I passed out.”

Kilter’s fingers curled into the sheet and his lips pursed together. “You shouldn’t have used it on me.” His voice was tight and words harsh. He also wouldn’t look at me.

I lay my hand on his arm. “That was my choice. I never had that choice before, Kilter. My ability had always been a tool. A weapon. Research. But using it to help you was different. It felt right. It felt like what it was meant to be used for.”

He was quiet for a minute; then he looked at me. “Never felt anything like that before. Fuck, babe, it was like you sucked out all the rage and replaced it with warmth and calmness. Even my heart rate slowed. It was incredible.” He leaned into me, resting his palms on either side of my head on the bed. “But I don’t want you to use it again.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Did you not just tell me you don’t like using it?”

I nodded.

“And did you not just say that bastard forced you to use your ability until you passed out?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“Then don’t use it.” His voice softened. “You hid your ability. You hid that you’re a Scar. You did that for a reason.” I did. “Waleron knows, which means everyone does.”

Shit. “They do?”

He nodded. “I suspect for months.”

Months? Delara knew for months? “But they never said anything.”

Kilter lightly stroked my cheek with his knuckles, his eyes on my lips, which parted as he did it. “Like you said, your choice. Waleron may be a cold bastard, but he won’t force a Scar to fight or use their ability.”

“Oh.” Okay, that was good to know. “Kilter?”

“Right here, babe.” He smirked and I liked that. I liked that a lot because Kilter didn’t smirk and it was cute and playful. Another piece to hold in my hand.