Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(79)
“He must have known about our Inks, babe.”
Yeah, he probably did. “He removed it years later, but by then, I was so thin that my Ink no longer responded to my voice.”
“And the man you killed?”
“A guard came to take me to the room where Anton made me practice my skills. Normally, I didn’t fight, but I don’t know. That day I lost control. When he put his hand on my arm, my powers took over and I couldn’t stop myself. He was shocked at first. I could see it in his eyes when he couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to push me off him, but I kept taking his emotions until there was nothing left. He fell to the floor and died.
“I ran. Scared of what I’d done. Of Anton finding out. Of who I was. I made it to the wall, but…” The memory was as if it were yesterday, running, terrified and knowing if I was caught I’d never have the opportunity to escape again. “I couldn’t get over the wall. I just couldn’t. Too many guards watched the gate, so the wall was my only choice, but it was too high. It was too high and they were coming after me. I was weak from killing the guard and couldn’t call on my Ink, so I failed. I failed and Anton dragged me back.” A single tear slid down my cheek and Kilter’s finger gently wiped it away. “I didn’t see the sun, moon, rain, or sky for months after that. When he let me out of the room, he’d hired Ben, and I knew I’d never have the opportunity again.”
“Fuck, babe.” Kilter tightened his hold on my hip and dragged me up against his side. “I’m sorry.” He leaned over, kissed my brow and nose, and slowly lingered over my lips. “I’m sorry I left you behind. It was selfish and cold, and it was cruel.”
“I’m sorry for what your brother and Gemma did to you,” I whispered. “I wish I could have been there. I wish I could have helped you.”
“You did, Rayne. You gave me peace with what you did with your ability.”
“But you found out she betrayed you.”
He nodded. “But it was the truth.” He lowered his head and kissed me. It was soft and yet held so much meaning to it. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm and gentle. “Babe, you trusted me not to hurt you. No one has trusted me in a long time.” He paused. “I don’t think you realize how f*ckin’ special you are. Not for your ability, but for who you are as a person.”
Kilter didn’t give compliments easily or lightly and I didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead I kissed him.
“Can I ask you to do something?”
“You can ask me anything. Always.”
I hesitated because Kilter was going to be difficult about this. “Roarke.” His eyes narrowed.
“The Grit at the art gala?”
I nodded. “Don’t let anyone hurt him.”
“He’s a Grit, babe. They kill humans and have no remorse for it.”
“Roarke does,” I whispered.
Kilter cupped the back of my neck, his fingers locked in my hair. “You care about this guy? A Grit? He’d suck the oxygen from your lungs without a second thought. Fuck, he watched you suffer in that place and did f*ck all about it.”
I raised my hand and gently stroked his cheek. “Roarke isn’t like my husband, Kilter.”
“Stop calling that bastard your husband. He forced you to marry him, didn’t he?” When I nodded, he continued, “The title doesn’t belong to him.”
Kilter was right. Anton didn’t deserve that title. He didn’t deserve me.
“Grits can’t be trusted, Rayne. It’s who they are.”
“Roarke protected me. He kept me away from Anton as much as he could.”
“He should have got you the f*ck out of there. It’s bullshit.”
“Maybe he couldn’t.”
“Or maybe he didn’t want to.”
I’d thought about that, too. Had Roarke liked that I was a captive? Had he hoped my husband would put us together—again? Had he enjoyed what we were forced to do? It had been an experiment, one that failed.
Kilter climbed out of bed then reached over and brought me with him, his arm around my waist. “We’re late for the meeting.” He placed a light kiss on my forehead before letting me go and snagging his jeans off the floor. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“He mentioned a woman who was at the compound. Says she’s dangerous. He warned me about her. He doesn’t want to hurt me.” He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it down over his head, not saying anything. “Kilter?”
“Babe, trusting a Grit is out of any realm of possibility for me. Can’t do it. Won’t.” He tossed my clothes to me. “Waleron is an * when we’re late. Put some clothes on.”
I STOOD ON THE far side of the living room near the window, Kilter next to me with his arm possessively around my waist. Keir, Anstice, Danni, and Balen stood over by the mantel talking quietly. Hack sat cross-legged on the couch, fingers tapping on his cell phone, and Jedrik lounged on a chair, one leg bent over the other looking bored, but from the way his narrowed eyes constantly shifted to the door, he wasn’t.
The front door open and closed, then came the click of high heels on the hardwood floor. I sensed the immediate change in everyone as chatting stopped and heads turned to the approaching woman—including me.