Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(9)

Quill was too politically correct to bring up old trust issues. Shit, all the Scars knew I didn’t trust a single one of them. Torture spoke volumes, and I knew it all too well. Never again would I put faith in anyone—period.

The doors of the plane shut, and the pilot announced takeoff.

Quill nodded to my wound. “Bandage your shoulder before you bleed to death. I’d offer my services, but you’re a shithead and would refuse it anyway.”

I shrugged. Yeah, I would. I didn’t like anyone touching me.

Quill put his feet up on the seat across from him, put his head back, closed his eyes, and said, “Think I might spend a few days in T.O. See how this plays out.” Asshole. “Might be worth taking shit from Waleron just to watch him lay into you.”

I ignored him, eyes on Rayne as the plane taxied down the runway. I couldn’t see her face, but saw her chest rise and fall evenly beneath the blanket.

As soon as we were in the air, I unclipped my seatbelt and walked to the back of the plane, grabbed the first aid kit, and proceeded to wrap my shoulder. It was a minor wound—bullet went straight through, hitting nothing vital. Still, it hurt like hell and took me a while to wrap it one handed.

Quill was right. I’d never looked after anyone but myself. I was morally selfish. But I went back to that compound. For her. I’d convinced myself it was because I wanted to kill her husband, and I did. But I’d gone back for her. Killing her husband had been a bonus.

I shoved the rest of the bandage material in the box, put it away, and then walked down the aisle to Rayne. The blanket had slipped to her chest and I noticed goose bumps on her neck. I pulled the blanket up and my knuckles grazed the curve of her jaw.

My heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that?

She was sick, abused, and here I was feeling… something. What was wrong with me? She was a skeleton. I hated women like that. I liked something to grab, a healthy body I could feel beneath me as I drove into her. A real woman, not a stick with a pulse. Didn’t even know why I was thinking about touching her at all.

But as I walked back to my seat, I realized it hadn’t been a sexual attraction I’d felt. It was something else entirely.

I f*ckin’ cared.

Jesus.

My eyes shot to Quill who was looking at me, full-out grinning.

I grunted, slammed the window covering down, sat, and then leaned back and closed my eyes.





THE ANGER SIMMERED AS I waited for Delara to come back. My shout had woken the entire house and they all ran into the foyer within seconds. Keir, Anstice—Keir’s maite, Hack—his brother, and last, Finn—the Newfoundland dog, trailing behind with slow, lumbering strides. Jedrik was already downstairs.

I was here because a human required Anstice’s healing ability. A cop had a run-in with a few CWO Worms. The Wraith of Air, Urtzi, had contacted me when he sensed the cop lying paralyzed in an alley. No surgeon could ever make him walk again, but Anstice’s healing could, and he was a good cop. I’d erase his memories of the Worms and of us after he was healed.

I hadn’t expected to walk in the door and scent vampire. Then the distinct combination of Liam, Delara, and sex.

Now we were in the living room waiting for her to get her ass back here. Jedrik sat on the leather couch looking uneasy as hell as his leg bounced. Keir leaned up against the bookcase, Anstice beside him, and Hack, who fiddled with his cell phone, hovered next to the stone mantel.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” Anstice asked.

“Need to talk to Delara first,” I said. “She’s on her way.”

No one spoke, but I felt the tension in the air.

The kitchen door slammed and every muscle in my body tensed. Delara’s footsteps were slow and even as she walked across the ceramic tiles into the living room.

She stopped, eyes meeting mine.

I waited. Needing a few seconds to calm the fury that ran hell-bent through my body.

She was first to look away. Good.

“Why did I detect Liam as soon as I entered this house?” I asked.

I watched her for shifts in movements, the obvious gestures that would tell me she was lying. Her thoughts were blocked, as were Jedrik’s, meaning they were hiding something.

Definitely uneasy, but the most recent time Delara was anxious around me ever since that night twenty-one years ago.

A night I regretted.

And yet, a night I couldn’t forget.

“I went to see him,” Jedrik said, getting up off the couch while avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Lying big time. Typical. Jedrik would cover for Delara even if it meant his own demise.

I raised my brows. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, you see Liam is up on all the gossip and—”

“I was with him,” Delara interrupted. I knew she’d never let Jedrik take the fall.

Anstice paled, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Keir’s arm tighten protectively around her. My own emotions were ready to turn this place into a tornado. I reached into my back pocket and took out my candy dispenser and popped out a white pill, tossing it in my mouth.

I needed a minute to gain control over my voice before I spoke. Delara refused to look at me, and she fiddled with the pockets on her cargo pants.

“And?” One word at a time. That’s all I could manage.

“I asked her to go,” Jedrik said. “I heard…” He paused, eyes shifting side to side. “Well, there’s a rumor a witch is hanging around Liam’s club.” He sat, then quickly changed his mind and stood again.