STEP (The Senses) (27 page)

After ten minutes, Anstice opened her eyes. Keir came to her side and helped her to her feet, wrapping his
arms around her waist. He kissed her brow with a gentleness one rarely saw from Keir except when he was with Anstice.

“Let her sleep. She’s in shock,” Anstice said in a quivering voice. It took a lot out of a Healer to use their capability
, and Anstice would be weak for a few hours. When the wounds were extensive, like her brother Balen’s had been, the vulnerability and weakness could last days.

Kilter nodded. He had no intention of leaving Rayne; he’d already been away for far too long. He glanced at Anstice walking to the door. He felt awkward all of a sudden. How did he say thank
you?
Just say the words, you idiot.
But the words failed to pass his lips.

Anstice paused at the door. “She
really cares for you, Kilter.”

The door shut behind them.

****

Rayne opened her eyes and jolted upright. Her vision took a few seconds to focus. Confusion settled on her like a windmill as she desperately tried to recall where she was and who had brought her here. She clutched the forest green sheet to her chest, hands curled into fists.

His scent wafted across her senses and it all came flooding back. Kilter. The bullet. The vampire. The blood.

“Kilter?” she whispered.
Please let him be okay.

“About time you woke up.”

A sharp glance to her right and there he was—tall, lithe, shadowed as he stood in the corner of the room. He leaned up against the wall, ankles crossed to match his arms. Casual. Confident as usual. Although his hair was in disarray, as if he’d been running his hands through it repetitively.

“How long have I slept?”

“Three hours too long,” he replied. He straightened and advanced towards her like a male panther approaching its mate. “Your leg is completely healed.”

Her eyes widened, mouth falling agape. “But I was shot.” She expected her thigh to
be on fire, but when she tested her leg—nothing. She threw the sheet aside, forgetting about the possibility of being nude and stared down at her healed leg. She gasped, running her hands over where the wound would’ve been.

“Anstic
e,” he said. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his eyes offhandedly drifting over her naked legs.

Rayne quickly yanked the sheet up. “She healed me? From a bullet wound?” Bruises were one thing, but this was another. “Can she really do that?” She tested her leg again. No pain. Bruising. Stiffness. Apparently, she could.

“Yes.” He stood looking down at her, expression grim, eyes intense and unwavering. If he had been any other person, she would’ve run for her life.

But it was Kilter. The man she couldn’t forget. Who was direct and honest with her. The one thing she’d never had in her life.

“Why did you come back to the gallery?” She noticed the flicker of uneasiness in his eyes. It came and went like a bolt of lightning.

“I screwed up. Being sent to Rest . . .” He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair and shifted his body weight. “Babe, I should’ve been there.” His voice softened, but his glower deepened. “I care . . . damn it
, woman, I just can’t have anything happen to you.”

Compliments were definitely not his thing. “I specifically recall you saying to never trust a word you say,” she said with a hint of a smile.

He grunted. “Yeah. So I did.” He grabbed a pillow from the chair next to the nightstand. “Forward,” he ordered, putting his hand on her shoulder. He placed the pillow behind her back and picked up a bowl resting on the nightstand. He took a spoonful of whatever was inside and brought it towards her mouth.

She balked. “I can feed myself,” she said, backing away.

“Eat.” Kilter waited steadfast for her to open her mouth.

“What is it?”

“Open,” he demanded. “Now.”

Obstinate as usual. Nice to see he hadn’t changed in six months. She opened her mouth and he shoveled the liquid broth into her mouth. Lukewarm chicken broth. Her least favorite. “You could’ve died. I mean
, that guy was a vampire and had a gun.”

“Is that a hint of concern for me? I’m flattered.” He quirked the corners of his lip upwards a minute amount. “And no
, I won’t die. Open.” When she didn’t immediately, his brows lowered and his lips set in a thin line.

She grudgingly took another mouthful and a drop of soup spilled over her lower lip. Kilter scowled
, and with the tip of his finger wiped it away. Her heart rate quadrupled and her eyes widened at the intimate touch. God, what this man could do to her.

She looked away from him, afraid he’d notice her desire. His fingers gripped her chin and she sucked in her breath as he forced her to meet his eyes. “Open
, Rayne,” he said.

“It’s cold,” she protested.
And gross. And I can’t eat in front of you. I’m too nervous.

“Healing takes from the body. You need nutrients,” Kilter said, his fingers tightening on her chin. “Eat,” he ordered.

When she swallowed, he released her chin but refused to stop shoveling the soup into her mouth. She put up with several more then pushed the last one away with her hand. “Enough. I hate chicken soup,” she said.

Kilter set the spoon down in the bowl with a clank. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you say so? Damn it
, Rayne, I could have made you something else.”

“You made it?”

He turned away, the muscles in his back tense as he grabbed the bowl. “Will you eat potato leek?”

She reached out, her hand grazing across his chest. “Kilter, I don’t want to eat anymore.” When he didn’t move she added, “Thank you. For the soup. It was thoughtful.”

He grunted.

“Kilter?”

He set the bowl back down. He turned. Her mouth parted and her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

“Christ.” He grabbed her around the neck and pulled her towards him. The sheet fell from her grasp forgotten as his lips took hers for his own. Tantalizing. Sweet. His scent making her insides melt.

His hand on the back of her neck, fingers entangled in her hair as he swept his tongue inside her mouth. Dancing. Playful and yet forceful.

The mattress sagged under his weight as he sat, lips still roaming over her own, taking, needing
, and causing unexplained emotions to erupt in her body. Her hands crept between them and held his shoulders, ready to push him away or bring him closer.

“Rayne.” His voice was ragged.

She was breathing hard, her lips tingling from his assault. “I . . . I don’t . . . know who you are right now.”

“You do, baby. It’s just a different side,”
he said, his voice barely a whisper. “An older one.”

What did he mean by that? “I like you the other way.” Damn right she did. She could easily keep her distance from him when he didn’t have this intense heat radiating from his eyes.

“Liar,” he said as he leaned over her, his breath wafting across her face. His grip in her hair tightened as if he was afraid she’d escape.

His finger traced the line of her right brow then down the bridge of her nose
, the touch tantalizing her skin like the tip of a feather. Mesmerizing. No man had ever touched her so . . . erotically.

His opposite hand hovered over her chest then slowly trailed down the sheet over her body to her thigh. She gasped and tried to back away, but he was quick. His hand cupped her chin and he forced her eyes to remain locked with his.

“Stay still,” he demanded. His hand caressed the inside of her thigh, fingers radiating heat as he stroked, kneaded, then moved further upwards to . . .

He leaned closer until his lips were inches from her ear. “Breathe, baby. You’re not breathing.”

She inhaled unsteadily as his hand stopped between her legs, a flickered touch with the back of his hand. Then another. So gentle it was barely a caress and yet . . . her back arched and her eyes closed. This was what sex was about, heat, pleasure, the feeling as if you were going to die if he didn’t grab you and kiss you.

He cupped her and her eyes flew open
, staring into his eyes swimming with intense fervor.

It was exciting. Suffocating. Drowning. Overwhelming. Too overwhelming. It was too soon. “Kilter. I . . . can’t.” She scram
bled sideways and pushed away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She tugged the sheet up to her chin and shuffled further away. His magnetic scent was collapsing her barrier second by second. “I need time. I just need some time.” She felt his body shift off the bed. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know . . . God, Kilter, I don’t know if I want you.” A white lie, her body sure as hell wanted him, however her brain was shouting at her to take baby steps with him.

“Bull,” he said raking his hand through his hair as he paced the length of the room. “You want me. I felt how much just a second ago.” She felt heat blaze in her cheeks. “You’re just scared. Well
, screw that. I was goddamn scared today when I nearly lost you.” He swore under his breath. “Fine, babe. You need time? I can do that.” He grabbed the bowl and walked to the door. “I’ll make you a sandwich.” He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

****

Waleron stood in the foyer, his stance tense as he considered the situation. He could hear the muffled voice of Rayne and Kilter downstairs and Galen’s fingers typing on his computer up in the attic. “With tonight’s incident we have to act now,” Waleron said. “We need information. Why was a vampire after Rayne? It makes no sense.”

“Is she ready?” Anstice asked as she stroked the top of Grim’s massive black head. “She’s gone through a horrendous experience
, and even though Rebecca has done wonders I think it’s still too soon.”

Waleron understood Anstice’s concern. She was a Healer
, after all, and compassion was her forte. Not his. He did everything in his power to protect them, and if it meant using another to get the job done then so be it. “She was shot. If Kilter had not been there, she would be dead or in their grasp. She will tell us everything she knows whether she is ready or not.” His jaw tensed. He looked to Keir. “Call Delara in.”

Keir gave a curt nod and put his hand on his wife’s arm when she opened her mouth. No doubt to object again, Waleron thought. Anstice was an incredible Healer, but she was new to the Senses ways and still had to learn
to never second-guess him.

He opened his red duck
-head Pez, took out a white pill and promptly swallowed it. Every single time he did that, at least four times a day, it reminded him of Delara. She wanted him to give them up. If he ever laughed, it would have been then, because if she knew anything about what he had endured in the hands of Jasmine, what he had given up in order to escape, she would know that giving up the pills was a recipe for catastrophe.

He felt a soft hand on his arm. He spun around so quick that
he knocked Anstice in the shoulder. It was an instinctive reaction to a woman’s touch. Any woman’s, except Delara’s.

Anstice gasped staggering back. Keir growled as he leapt forward
, grabbing his wife and pulling her to his side.

Grim barked then whined as he looked from one to the other. Then he raised his head with an air of dignity and ambled out of the foyer.
Smart dog. Don’t pick sides.

He knew Anstice had been about to say something heartfelt to him, he could smell the words without her even speaking them.

Waleron spoke before she had the chance. “Kilter may react to this irrationally.” The rebellious Visionary had become a problem, considering his trust issues. “Make certain he does not attempt to leave with her.”

“He refuses to listen to anything I say,” Keir admitted.

His rage was still boiling over from Anstice’s touch.
Control. Calm.
He took several deep breaths then lowered his voice, careful to keep it steady. “Rayne must tell us what she knows. We cannot afford to wait any longer. Have everyone here in two hours. No exceptions.” The tone was enough to have Keir and Anstice both nod. “And be warned, Trinity will be present.”

He heard Keir curse and Anstice’s sharp intake of breath.

It wasn’t from his words though. It was the woman who’d decided to walk in the front door at that moment. Waleron gave a nod to Jedrik who came in after her then he met Delara’s eyes. His jaw flexed at her stunned expression as if he’d just slapped her across the face.

“Library. Now,” Waleron said.

Delara walked calmly into the library, knowing that this would be another of their fuel
-charged arguments. There was so much anger, passion and heat between them that it was impossible to be in the same room together and not have combustion.

She was about self-destruction and Waleron was about ultimate control, shit he was an ancient. His mother was one of the original witches’ from the coven in Zugarramurdi. Waleron’s mother, Arossa Urrutia was the first Taldeburu. And a real bitch.