Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(84)

A strangled cry left my throat like a horrid screech of an animal in unbearable pain. I pulled her to me and her head fell back.

“Nooooo! No, Abbs. I won’t let you go.” I kissed the top of her head. “No. I won’t let you go.” I was not going to carry her death on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t survive it.

Her words repeated over and over in my head. A promise I’d refused to give her and this was why.

I gently laid her back on the bed, sweeping her hair back from her face, then reached into my boot and pulled out my blade. With one swift cut, I sliced my wrist just enough for the blood to rise to the surface. I never hesitated before, but I thought about the consequences of what this meant. Abby would live, but as something different, something I hunted and killed.

The blood dripped from my wrist to the bedspread and soaked into the material. My eyes watched as Abby’s lips turned blue and her eyes remained open—lifeless.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I won’t let you go.” I held my wrist over her mouth and a drop of blood slid down my skin, inches from her mouth.

A sudden blast of energy hit me and knocked me away from the bed and into the nightstand. The glass of water went flying and the cheap lamp fell to the floor and shattered.

“Just in time,” Waleron said, his solid form emerging from mist. “Stay away from her, Damien. It’s too late to save her, and she must not Transition.”

I crawled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “I can’t let her die.”

“So you’ll make her something she’d hate you for?” Waleron nodded toward Abby. “She turned twenty-five yesterday. With her birthday came the ability to turn water into blood. A vampire with her ability is catastrophic. Liam must have known about it.”

“Fuck.” I glanced over at the cold, lifeless body I’d spent every second of every day for months with. That was why she always asked me the date. Why she’d refused to drink the water over the past few days. She knew what would happen if she drank water after her birthday.

If she had drunk the water, she’d have turned into a vampire, changing the water to blood. I wouldn’t have known until it was too late. She’d have killed me.

“So we just let her die?” I said.

“She is dead, Damien. There is nothing we can do.”

The words were too real, sinking into me like a lead weight, carrying me under until I could barely breathe. Never to see her smile, feel her touch, hear her laughter. No, she couldn’t be gone.

I inched closer to the bed, needing to feel her, to hear her voice, feel her hand resting on my chest like she did while we sat together every day. Once more. That was all I needed. Just one more time.

Waleron grabbed my arm and jerked me back. “No, Damien. Leave here. I will take her back to the coven.”

I pulled out of his grip and glared at him. I felt the heat of my Ink tingling on my shoulder. It was moving within me, needing vengeance—freedom. My Ink had a mind of its own, and I never called to it because it had more control over me than I had of it.

Waleron knew it too by the way his eyes swirled with power. “Unleash it and I will retaliate with its demise.”

“Then give me this. Give me time to say goodbye.”

“No. I feel your emotions. You will do anything to see her live. I cannot risk it. Walk away, Damien,” Waleron warned.

My eyes blazed with fury and my Ink burned. Everything in me said to fight for her, but everything sane said to walk away and live another day.

A sudden intake of breath had both of us turning to the bed.

“Abby?” I ran to the bed, fell to my knees, and took her hand. “Sweet Jesus, Abbs, I thought I’d—”

“Get away from her!” Waleron shouted. He nodded to the glass of water that had been on the nightstand and now lay empty next to her on the bed. Abby’s face was covered in water. “She’s Transitioned.”





AFTER WALERON’S ABRUPT DEPARTURE and Jedrik going after Trinity, which had Kilter and Keir diving for him before he reached her, the Scars discussed what to do next. Kilter would go to Liam’s club, and Delara and Jedrik would Track the woman from the compound. Balen was to hunt CWOs and vampires and try to obtain answers from them.

I’d mentioned calling Roarke to see if he could tell us more, but Kilter had gone deadly quiet. So had everyone else. They blamed Roarke for Hannah and the other Scars’ deaths and for what happened to Ryker, and they were right to blame him. He was partially responsible.

That was when Kilter grabbed my hand and we went downstairs to his bedroom. And that was when he kissed me until my knees weakened then told me to stay here and he’d be back later.

That was two hours ago.

I took out the crinkled piece of paper from the side pocket of my purse. I’d debated for hours whether to call him, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I tapped the numbers on my cell.

“Yeah?”

“Roarke? It’s Rayne.”

Silence, then, “You okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. But the woman from the compound, we need to know about her. Who is she and why—” I jerked when there was a crash upstairs.

“Rayne? What wrong?”

A loud thump.

Oh, God, it was like a body hit the floor. “I don’t know. Someone is here.” The sounds became louder, like furniture being overturned. Kilter. I had to call Kilter.