STEP (The Senses) (13 page)

Oh
, God, what was happening? He was fighting? What was he fighting about?

When s
he heard Kilter say, something about ‘signing her death warrant’ then ‘you will destroy her’, she knew. His loud bellow echoed through the basement, and shivers raked her body. There was a loud raucous and a crash. More shouting.

That was all she needed.
She threw on her clothes from the compound and slipped on her shoes.

The panic was runn
ing full force within seconds at the thought of being locked away. There was no choice. She had no choice. She undid the latch on the window and held her breath as she pushed out the screen.

A solid thump sounded on the ceiling.

Her heart pounded, and her knees trembled as she pulled herself up and out. It was easy enough with the window being ground level. She began to close it behind her when the glimmer of Kilter’s knife caught her gaze. It was sitting on the dresser beside the door. Had he put it there before coming near the bed earlier? A sharp pain shot through her chest and she silently ached inside, afraid to leave him, but knowing from the sounds upstairs that it was her only choice.

Kilter. I’m sorry. Please understand, I can’t risk it.

The image of him looking down at her as she sat on the bathroom floor the day he came back for her. The surprise, the relief and then the hope. He had given it to her.

Yet staying
was a risk she couldn’t take.

The cool spring breeze sifted through her hair, and her heart calmed and her body rejuvenated as if nature was lending its strength and nutrients to survive. She had no clue why she’d always felt so strong in the sun, rain and wind, but it was her savior, her bliss.

She crept across the yard, hiding behind shrubs and trees. Her legs felt like dried-up twigs as they wobbled in fear and weakness. She knew she was dying. She could barely function normally any longer with the few nutrients she consumed. It had crept up on her day by day then week by week, losing more and more weight. At first she’d stopped eating to suppress her abilities, then it had become her control and reward. It had become her escape—her hiding place where no one could reach her in this empty shell.

****

“Holy be-Jesus.” Galen ran to the falling mass of muscles that crumpled to the ground. “He just completely lost it.”

Jedrik sighed
, running his hand through his blond curls. “His past was just thrown in his friggin’ face. To him Rayne is Gemma all over again.” He actually felt bad for Kilter. He’d been around for the Ulrich thing and knew it still ate away at Kilter’s insides.

“Who’s Gemma?” Anstice asked.

“The woman Kilter loved,” Keir said. “His brother tortured Kilter for, oh about ten years, with the woman Kilter loved watching.” Keir rubbed his temples. “Waleron, Rest is rather harsh. He wants to protect her.”

“Then he should not have attacked us.” Waleron directed his cold unemotional gaze on Keir. “He would never give up and she needs time to heal. She cannot repair herself, if he tries to do it for her.”

There was nothing more to say. Kilter had chosen his path and gone against their Taldeburu. Bad choice. Waleron never allowed a Senses to go rogue, if he could help it. Kilter had balls; Jedrik would give him that, because none of them would ever risk Waleron’s retaliation.

“He’s cold as ice,” Anstice said, touching Kilter’s wrist.

Waleron ignored her. “Kilter will remain in Rest for six months. That will give Rayne time to heal.”

“Waleron,” Anstice said with disbelief
, “that’s so long. He was afraid for her—”

“He went ag
ainst his Taldeburu with his ability. That is unpardonable.” Waleron turned to Delara who entered the room with a really pissed-off expression. “I sense movement outside. The girl must have heard the commotion and left.”

“
Yeah, I’m tracking her,” Delara said. “I’ll get her. But don’t expect me to drive her to the rehab center.”

“No. She will not
be going there,” Waleron said while looking at Kilter on the floor. “You will take her to the gallery. She will stay with you.”

No one said anything, although a few brows rose at the sudden change in plans. Delara gave a single nod and
headed for the door. Anstice called to Grim and they walked to the stairs.

No one questioned Waleron’s actions. The guy looked pissed, even
the tattoo that laced up his neck and around his ear appeared as if it suddenly had a red outline.

“Take him to his room,
” Keir said to his brother, then walked over to the bar and poured three glasses of Bombay. The clink of the ice being tossed in the glasses was like a bomb going off in the deafening silence. Jedrik took his glass, chugging back the fiery liquid in one gulp. Keir passed one to Waleron and had one for himself.

“She will reside at Danielle’s apartment above her gallery. I will speak with a therapist who specializes in eat
ing disorders and have her available to see Rayne on a daily schedule.”

“And if she won’t? See her
, I mean,” Jedrik asked, wishing he had another Bombay to chug back. Waleron merely held his, having yet to take a sip. Did he do anything for pleasure?

“Then we wait until she does,” Waleron said.

“You think she knows what went down in that place?” Jedrik asked. “Frig, she’s pretty screwed up. I can’t imagine what happened to her.”

“Ryker was too drugged to recall anything,” Waleron
said. “But I will attempt to read his memories. Once Rayne is strong, she will tell us more. She was vital to her husband.”

Keir frowned. “Vital how?”

Waleron set his untouched glass down on the glass side table beside the couch. “I will know more when she is well. Right now, it is impossible to be clear on the signals she is pulsating. Her weight is what hides her capabilities.”

“No way,” Jedrik said mouth falling open. “She’s a friggin’ Senses? One of us? I didn’t pick up on that.”

Waleron picked up the glass again and shot the burning liquid down his throat with one swallow. “You would not. In her poor condition, her body is maintaining basic function. But Rayne is a Senses.”

****

Rayne lifted the latch on the
iron gate, cringing when it creaked.

She began to slide through the small space when someone grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. She gasped and instinctively struggled to ge
t back through the gate, but the grip was too strong.

“Rayne, please.”

She stopped fighting when she heard Roarke’s voice.

“
Don’t run.” He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. “You know I’d never hurt you.”

The ever-present deadly gleam in his eyes had vanished
, and in its place was a softened sadness. He looked tired and his hair was disheveled, a rarity for him.

“Roarke, please. Let me go.” She knew fighting him was pointless, she’d learned that long ago.

His thumb tenderly rubbed her skin on her arm. “Come here, Rayne.” He tugged her further into the shadows and placed her back against the stonewall. He let go of her arm, but instead put his hands on either side of her head. “I thought . . . God, I thought you were dead.” He took a deep breath and raised his hand as if to stroke her cheek. She tilted her head away and he sighed. “When I came back and saw the devastation . . .” He closed his eyes and took a trembled breath. “I was afraid . . .” He caressed her neck with a single finger. “Ben told me what happened and—”

Her heart plummeted. “Ben’s alive?”

“He was when I found him. Burned severely and lost his leg in the blast. I took care of the rest of him.” He killed Ben? “Anton is dead, Rayne. I saw his body.” He put his finger under her chin and raised her head. “He can’t hurt you any more.”

She lowered her eyes and he stroked her hair as he had often done at the compound.

“I tracked the Senses to Toronto and to this house. I was watching and waiting until I could get you out of there but then I saw you at the gate.” He stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. “Where are you going, Rayne?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Could she trust Roarke? He’d always been kind to her, perceptive to her fears and panic. But he was a GQ
who had worked for her husband. He was strong, dangerous and had recruited CWOs for her husband.

“Come with me,” Roarke said.

The gate clicked and Roark casually turned around, blocking her with his body.

A woman came around the corner and Rayne immediately noticed
her vivid green eyes and deep skin tone. Her hair was cropped short and in complete disarray with jagged edges and no style. Anton would’ve hated that.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” The woman turned to her. “Rayne, I’m Delara, a friend of Kilter’s
, and this asshole will be facing a whole mess of trouble if he doesn’t let you go.”

The last thing
Rayne wanted was for anyone to get hurt because of her. Roarke would kill this woman, not only with his immeasurable strength, but with a simple kiss. He was a GQ and could suck the air out of her lungs so fast that she’d have no chance to take another breath.

Delara and Roarke stared long and hard at one another.

“Please.” Rayne touched his arm. “Roarke, you have to let me go. There are more of them in the house and . . . Roarke, I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Roarke glanced back at her. He ran his hand through his hair, eyes locked to her
s as he contemplated. Suddenly he stepped aside, unblocking her. She stayed where she was, uncertain what Roarke would do if she moved away. He’d never harmed her before, but she’d heard horror stories from Anton of those Roarke had killed with his ruthless nature. Anton had always controlled him, but now . . . now he was on his own.

“Want me to kick his ass?” Delara asked.

Rayne wanted to laugh at the preposterous notion. Roarke did laugh. “Not to worry, Senses. I’m leaving.” Any laughter left his face in a flash. “Harm her and you will have the wrath of many upon your kind.”

Delara raised her brows and cocked her hip, but didn’t say anything.

Roarke grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side. His hand reached up and caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand as if memorizing every contour. He looked so haunted, with those dark, impenetrable eyes. “Will you consider my offer, Rayne?”

To be locked up by another man? No. Never.

As she peered into his eyes, she saw compassion and softness. If she were in a different place in her mind, if she could stop running and face her fears, maybe she could learn to trust Roarke. Right now, she had to find her own strength. Decide if she wanted to fight what was destroying her mind and body.

Roarke didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he took her hand, slipped a piece of paper in her palm and closed her fingers over it. “If you ever need me
.” He closed his eyes briefly, leaned forward and kissed her forehead, soft lips lingering. He stepped back, bowed his head to Delara and walked away.

“Charming, isn’t he?” Delara said. “That’s a GQ
’s greatest asset. Best to remember that. He work for your husband?”

Rayne gave a single nod. She wanted to forget. Drown out everything until her black void was all she had left. Destroy the emotions that made every breath a painful one.

“I can’t let you leave, Rayne.” She leaned up against the gate and half smiled. “Yes, I was sent to stop you from running. I’m asking if you will listen and then decide.”

“I can’t.” When she saw
Delara’s expression falter and her body tense up, Rayne continued, “I can’t go into a rehab center.”

“Kilter told you our intent?” Delara raised her brows as if surprised. “Waleron would only send you to the best place in the world. Everyone there is for your benefit, but we changed—”

She was already shaking her head. “No. No, I can’t.” Another compound. The memories were too fresh. Too real. She couldn’t. She inched back a step. Then another.

“Rayne, Waleron
’s decided that perhaps you’d like to live at my friend’s art gallery with me. It seems Kilter changed the Taldeburu’s mind about a rehab center.” Delara winked. “Go figure.”

He kept his promise. She closed her eyes for a half second and took a long
ragged breath.

Where was Kilter? Why wasn’t he
here? Why wasn’t he telling her this? It was hard to believe he’d just let her walk away. Or was his promise to protect her a lie? Like the one on the roof. Was him caring all pretense?

But he had kept her from being locked up again. She glanced back at the house, hoping to see him. Afraid to see him. Needing to see him.

A vacant emptiness settled inside her when he failed to appear—a familiar black void that had become her solitude and her demise.

She was alone again.

“Danielle’s apartment is above her art gallery. Balen, that’s her other half, bought a house in the Rosedale area, so I’ve been crashing in the place. It has two bedrooms, small kitchen downstairs, living room and one bathroom.”