Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(99)

She lowered her gaze from Waleron and nodded.

What the f*ck? Waleron wanted Delara to leave? Leave the Toronto Talde? Jesus. Every face in the room was stunned into silence, except Jedrik who was stupid enough to protest.

“What are you talking about?” Jedrik looked at Waleron, who gave no answer. Then he turned to Delara. “Delar? Why? What does he mean?”

“Leave it,” Waleron ordered.

Jedrik opened his mouth to retort and Waleron raised his hand and slammed Jedrik with a bolt of energy, sending him across the room and right through the drywall into the next room.

“Jedrik,” Delara cried. She took two steps toward him then stopped. With one look at Waleron, she turned, walked past all of us, and went upstairs.





TYE PROPPED HIS SHOULDER up against the steel door, ankles and arms crossed while he stared at the floor, giving the impression he was casual. He wasn’t. Lowered brows and the twitch in his jaw told me he was anything but.

A f*ckin’ guard. That’s what Tye was. Probably smart. No, not probably, it was smart.

He’d snapped a steel plate over my Ink. That argument hadn’t gone down well, but it was a battle I wouldn’t win, and I had to see her.

I walked across the room, booted feet echoing like f*ckin’ tribal drums before a sacrifice. My heart matched the pounding as I drew closer to the cell. No matter how luxurious Keir had designed the containment areas, they were still f*cking cells. And Abby was locked behind steel bars. Unbreakable steel bars.

There was a private washroom in one corner and a black leather couch and lounge chair with a marble coffee table. One wall had a large plasma TV with an assortment of books on shelves on either side. In the far corner was a king-sized bed with white satin sheets and oversized pillows. It was there my eyes found Abby, except she wasn’t on the bed. She sat on the floor leaning against the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, face hidden by her hair as she rested her cheek on one knee.

“Abbs,” I called, my fingers curling around the bars. Jesus, she looked so fragile and alone. Never imagined Abbs like that. She was a fighter, feisty and full of life, but all of it was gone.

She was gone.

I wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right. That we’d find a way to fight this. But that was a lie. It wasn’t going to be okay.

I tightened my grip on the bars.

“You have to listen to me.”

She didn’t move.

“Baby, no matter what happens, remember who you are. Remember the girl in the grocery store. Remember.” Please, Abby. Please remember. Give me something here. “Peaches, Abbs. The hotel. The pillow fight.” She stared, comatose, eyes red-rimmed, not a flicker of recognition. “Jesus, this isn’t over.”

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the bars. I wanted to rip this place apart and take her away. Force her to remember who she was. Because somewhere inside the bloodlust lived Abby.

Tye shifted his feet and I sensed his eyes on me. I didn’t give a f*ck what the guy was thinking. Abby needed to remember who she was, and I couldn’t release her, so I’d give her something else. She may be a vampire, but Abby was still a part of her.

“Look at me for f*ck’s sake,” I shouted, attempting to get her attention. I slammed my fist into one of the bars and a ding vibrated through the room.

A wave of relief hit me as she slowly lifted her head and our eyes met.

God, Abbs. She looked like a wilted piece of lettuce drowning in sorrow. My senses picked up her heartbeat. It stopped, skipped several beats, paused for several seconds, and then beat faint and slow. New vampires’ hearts beat erratically until they gained control over their body, but I hated hearing it. A reminder of what she was now.

Fuck!

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Abby finally said in a rough, scratchy voice. It was the first words I’d heard her speak since she went through the Transition. Waleron had given her animal blood, which had calmed her mind and the bloodlust. “Go away, Damien.”

“Damn it, babe. I spent months with you in hell. Don’t you dare tell me to go away,” I growled. Pissed was an understatement. Maybe I should be sympathetic, but I knew Abby enough that she’d hate me showing her pity. “Get your ass over here and talk to me.”

Tye cleared his throat. “Umm, I don’t think—”

I shot him a glare. “Piss off, Tye.”

He was no longer propped up against the door. His legs were braced, arms at his side, but he didn’t move toward me.

I turned back to Abby, my Visionary ability able to take in every detail, even the one drop of sweat that dripped from her hairline on the right side. Her scent was fear, frustration, and anger—a real shitty combination for an unpredictable vampire.

I knew what I was about to do wouldn’t go down well, but it would connect us. And that connection was our chance.

I slid my arm through the bars, wrist up. “Take my blood.”

Tye groaned. “You’re shittin’ me? Come on, man. Don’t do this.”

There was no way I’d get away with this without some sort of confrontation. But I ignored him, my eyes on Abby, but all my other senses were on Tye who was now moving.

She crawled to her feet, eyes hungry with need as they locked on my wrist. She needed this. I needed this.