STEP (The Senses) (12 page)

Maybe it was that he liked her deep hazel eyes. Well, that was the only damn thing about her that wasn’t too skinny. Anstice and Keir were right; she was in desperate need of help. Therapy. Intense. And fast. Danielle was a Reflection, maybe she could get inside her head? She could read emotions like a newspaper. The problem was that Rayne’s mind was the
Great Wall of China, and Danielle was new to the Senses and would have to find a way to take it down in order to help.

Maybe Xamien could come from Europe? He
was a Taldeburu and a Reflection. Powerful.

He set the treadmill on high speed and began to run. Running was always a sure
-as-shit way to rid frustration from his body. Exhaust it, numb out these unbearable emotions. He’d learned how to use exercise over the past hundred years, when he’d been living in his own black void of self-despair. Fuckin’ friends. Yeah, right. Friends were a fallacy. They didn’t exist. They pretended to be for their own benefit, then when it suited them, they’d stab you in the heart or back, whichever was closer.

“You run on that thing any faster and smoke will come out of your ass.”

Kilter glanced at the door to see Delara with a towel around her shoulders and wearing black yoga pants and a skintight white yoga top. Her short-cropped hair hung in disarray across her head in jagged strands. A little too violent looking for his taste.

“What are you doing here?” he asked suspiciously. Delara was living at Danielle’s gallery, so showing up
at the house at seven in the morning made him wary.

She stretched her limbs, muscles flexing then relaxing again. “Waleron called a meeting this morning. I’m early, so thought I’d piss you off and join you.”

He grunted and raised the incline on the treadmill. He rarely conversed with anyone when in the gym; it was his domain. A place where he drove out emotions until they bled through his sweat.

“Care for a quick grapple?” Delara asked raising her thin arched brows.

Kilter scowled. “You’re a woman.”

She threw her towel, hitting him in the face. “And you’re such a chauvinist.” She headed for the door.

Kilter jumped off the treadmill and grabbed her arm. “Why did you come, Delara? Did Keir tell you to pacify old Kilter’s rage problems before he annihilates poor Rayne with his fists? Do you think I’m that much of a dick?” He released her arm as if it was on fire, shaking his head as he walked back to the treadmill and grabbed his towel.

“Yes
, actually I do, but surprisingly, that isn’t why. It’s pretty simple. I didn’t sleep, haven’t been home yet. Waleron asked me to meet him here. To stay awake, I decided to work out. Nothing as complicated as you seem to think in that demented mind of yours. I’m out of here.” Delara yanked open the door.

“Best three of five,” Kilter said while shutting down the treadmill and walking over to the matted area. He avoided looking up to see if she was coming or not, didn’t want her to think he cared if she took him up on the offer or not. The chick wanted to rustle and show her shit
, then fine, he’d show her why women and men never competed against one another.

The door shut. Footsteps came towards him. He took his stance.

“Trained by the best, you know,” Delara said. “Pez.”

“Impressive,” Kilter said. “But still a woman.”

She didn’t take his bait as expected. “Let’s make a deal, shall we?”

“There is nothing I want you could possibly give me,” Kilter said.

Delara smiled while taking her stance. “I need . . .”

Kilter huffed. “I don’t fuck on bets.”

“Oh, get over yourself.” She held up her hand when he went to say something. “I need someone to teach me how to cook, and I heard you were the best. I win, you give me five lessons, you win . . . well, you tell me. What do you want?”

“For you to shut up,” Kilter said.

Delara huffed. “Fine, I won’t talk to you for an entire week.”

Kilter grunted back a laugh. “Ready to call mercy?”

Delara crouched, stance wide. “I so can’t wait to see you in an apron.”

****

Kilter needed an ice-cold drink after Delara nearly kicked his butt. He gave credit when it was due, and she was one hell of a grappler. Shit, she’d landed him on his ass two times before he’d had enough and taken her down.

He walked up the
stairs and into the kitchen, sweat running down his chest and across his brow. He stopped dead. His feet became thousand-pound lead weights, as soon as he saw the men standing as if . . . his eyes narrowed, and his heart skipped a beat. What the fuck was going on?

Delara came up behind him. He didn’t need to see her face to know that something shitty was happening, and it wasn’t just some meeting Waleron called. He felt it emanating from
every sweat gland in the room.

“What the hell is this?” Kilter growled. He tried to enter their minds, but every single one of them was vaulted shut. He looked at Delara, but she stepped back and refused to say anything.

A cloud of mist appeared. His hands curled into fists. Great, just what he needed—Waleron to ruin his day.

He was not a fan of their coldhearted Taldeburu, and he sure as shit hated when he morphed into a room. The
Big Guy was an enigma and as merciless as they came. He protected the Senses with a steel glove and didn’t take crap from any of them. Even him.

His good point
s—he never beat around the bush and lived by the code of honesty and loyalty.

Waleron matched his six
-foot-three height, but was slightly broader in the shoulders. He kept his hair shaved short, just leaving a hint of brown hair, had ice-blue eyes that on occasion had been known to flash red when he was pissed—although he rarely lost his cool—and he had one hell of a tattoo that came up from under his black T-shirt to his neck then curled behind his left ear.

As far as he knew, Waleron’s Scar remained latched onto him, having never been released since the day he escaped from that bitch Lilac’s lair. It wasn’t exactly known what happened, only that
he and his Scar went insane with fury. When he returned to them, he was cool and calm like always, as if he hadn’t been tortured and held captive for sixty-one years. Except it was a different calmness, more like a silence of dead emotion.

“We must discuss Rayne,” Waleron announced. “She is to be taken to a rehabilitation center today.”

Kilter jolted, his blood running cold. Every muscle contracted. Over his dead body. He glanced at each of their faces and noticed how they all avoided looking directly at him. They knew. They all bloody well knew. There was no discussion about it, it was just decided.

He mana
ged two strides towards the stairs before Waleron stopped him. Cold fingers gripped his arm. “No, Kilter,” Waleron said in a bitter warning tone.

Fuck that.

He jerked his arm out of Waleron’s grasp and ignored his Taldeburu’s ice-blue eyes, which narrowed with forewarning.

His own eyes were bleeding with rage, red-hot beams glowing like a roaring fire. He managed to keep his
vision in control most of the times, but fury made him react instinctively.

“Kilter
, man, she needs help,” Jedrik said.

He swung his gaze to Jedrik, and his vision took control as the antique vase behind Jedrik smashed into tiny fragments. Screw control, this was exactly why he never trusted anyone. They went behind his back and did what they thought was best. No consulting. No discussion. Nothing.

She was not being locked away. An image of her eyes staring up at him filled with fear and anxiety. The betrayal laced with mistrust.
My God,
she’d never forgive him. He knew what it was like to lose faith in someone’s words and he couldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t. Not again.

Kilter managed two more steps towards the stairs before he felt a hold on him that refused to give way no matter how hard he tried to move his body. Paralysis of his limbs, frozen in place like a stone statue.

“Let me go, you coldhearted fucker,” Kilter shouted at Waleron.

A low murmur of voices shifted through the room and everybody went on full alert. Keir stepped forward and gave a curt nod at Waleron. Kilter knew they were speaking telepathically and blocking him.

“Goddamn it, you have shit to say, say it,” Kilter said.

Delara turned away and headed into the other room. He suspected she was in disagreement, with Waleron’s decision. One point in her favor.

Anstice grabbed Keir’s arm, her eyes tearing. “Please, Kilter, don’t do this. Listen to what they have to sa—”

“Fuck off!”

Waleron still had a hold of his movements, but the Taldeburu could only do it for a short period.

“You will let her go,” Waleron
stated.

Kilter fought Waleron’s powers. “You just signed her death warrant.”

“She will be safe,” Keir said. “We’d never do anything to harm her. You know that, Kilter.”

A cold fury enveloped him.

No, goddamn it. No. He promised her. He fuckin’ promised. “No.”

Waleron’s tone was calm and cool. “This is not your decision.” Waleron’s hold dropped and Kilter flexed his hands into fists. “She will not be a prisoner, Kilter. If she chooses to leave rehabilitation, she can. But she must give it a chance.”

“You will destroy her and I won’t stand by and let it happen.”

“No
, Kilter,” Waleron said in his monotone voice. “She needs to find her own way. You are too protective of this woman. It will only harm her recovery. You will not have any contact with her, nor know where she will be located.”

“What? That’s bullshit,” he
shouted. He promised her. Just like he had that day on the roof. He broke that promise. He sure as hell wasn’t doing it again.

“She needs therapy,” Anstice said quietly.

Damn right she did, but not like they wanted. He’d search every rehabilitation place across the world if he had to, but he wasn’t breaking his promise.

“
Disobey me and I will send you to Rest. Stay away from her,
” Waleron ordered.
“She needs time, Kilter. Time to be well again. I will warn you once. Let it go.”

Kilter didn’t do well with threats and he knew this fight could get him killed, but he never backed down from anything in his life. He was not letting Rayne go.

“I will not break my promise,” Kilter said with finality, blind rage searing his insides like a razor.

“You should not have made such a promise,” Waleron
said calmly.

He reacted fast and hard, leaping across the room and rolling on the floor as all hell broke loose. He jerked his head to the side and the entire wall of books tumbled off the shelves and into Galen. He raised his fist and landed a direct hit into Jedrik’s jaw, sending him
through the air and into the wall.

“Kilter
, you piss head,” Galen bellowed.

“Friggin’ hell, Kilter,” Jedrik yelled massaging his jaw. “Cool it
, asshole.”

Kilter rolled as Waleron raised his hands and a bolt of energy came rocketing towards him.

Keir stood blocking the route to the kitchen and Rayne. He went at him full tilt, eyes blazing. Keir ducked the line of fire and then came barreling at him. Kilter felt the sting of a punch to his cheekbone and then another in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

He shot his legs out and took Keir off his feet with one sweep. Doorway clear. He took one step before he felt his body begin to sway from side to side. He grabbed his head with both hands as his mind swirled with haze. He stumbled into the wall
, then fell to his knees.

He looked up. Waleron stood a few feet away, a mask of disappointment on his face.
“I told you, I warn once.”

Rest. The bastard was putting him in Rest? He felt his body collapse to the floor. How could he do this? How could they?

“Nooooo,” he shouted, the words ripping from his lungs in an anguished roar. Fear for Rayne coursed through his body as if nails drove into his skin and ripped his flesh apart. His insides were raw and bleeding, his throat no longer able to speak as the roars of fury echoed into deafening silence.

He fought like hell to keep his eyes open, straining against the heavy weight that refused to give way to his impenetrable will. He tried to urge his Scar to rise and wreak havoc on them all, but it was too late. He was too late.

What had he done?

His one thought was of Rayne.
“I promised her. Damn it, don’t lock her away again,”
he said to Waleron.
“Christ, she was tormented. You know what it’s like locked away, Waleron. You wouldn’t survive it again. She . . . she can’t either. It will remind her of . . . another way . . .”

Kilter slipped into the hell of Rest.

****

Rayne
vaulted from bed when Kilter’s loud roar came from upstairs.