STEP (The Senses) (29 page)

He said that every morning when she woke, and every morning for the past three days she’d refused. “Sit with me,” Abby whispered.

If she was going to die
, she wanted him close to her, to feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, his strength, and to hear his tranquil soothing words. At least she’d die with him at her side. Him. Damien. The man she’d never forget after one night of passion.

He acted as if it never happened, but she knew it had, memories of it swimming through her mind when she was Abby, not the psycho Abby
who rose during the night.

“Damien,” she said, closing her eyes to the light that burned them. She was so sensitive to everything, light, dark, touch, smell—even Damien’s breath that wisped across her body when he spoke.

The bed sagged after a few silent minutes, and then she felt the familiar warmth of his body next to her. She rolled onto her side as she always did and rested her head on his chest. Comfort, she thought. This is how she wanted to die. He never stroked her or caressed her hair like she wanted him to do, but sometimes, if she was lucky, he’d rest his arm across her shoulders and she could feel his thumb casually stroking. She guessed he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it.

She wondered if he knew she was going to die. Maybe he had begun to sit with her during the day because he was offering her comfort for her last few days of life. How long had they been here? Her birthday had to be soon
, and she’d be turning twenty-five. A dangerous age caught in this situation. Too dangerous to stay alive.

“Promise me something?” Abby tilted her head so she could look at him. His eyes were staring straight ahead as if avoiding eye contact. She raised her hand, noticing how it trembled with weakness, and touched the stubble on his chin. She liked that he didn’t shave every day, the rough texture caressing the pads of her fingers.

“I’m not promising anything, Abb.”

“But you haven’t even heard what I want from you yet,” she objected.

“You have enough of me already.”

Whatever that meant; his time maybe. She’d ruined his life for the
past however long. “Look at me.” He refused and she raised her voice, which made it crackle. “Look at me, Damien.”

He grabbed her hand, taking it away from his face and putting it back on his chest where he clamped it down with his own. Only then did he lower his gaze to meet her own and she gave a half-smile. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He grunted.

Before he could look away again—because she needed to see his expression when she asked—she said, “Promise you will let me die.” He immediately scowled and she quickly explained. “If it is between death and becoming a vampire, I choose death. I feel myself slipping. I grow weaker
, and I can no longer keep anything in my stomach.”

“Christ, Abb. You’re not going to die, okay
? I won’t let it. Go to sleep.”

But she knew it was imperative that he make this promise. If it came down to letting her die and giving her his blood to let her live, even if it was to be something he detested, he
might weaken and . . . “Promise me. Never let me take your blood. This is very important.”

The tension in his hand increased
, and she winced at the pressure he caused unknowingly. His silence said much, as if he needed time to contemplate the choice. But to her there was no choice. He had to see that. Must see that.

“I will not be Liam’s slave. Don’t make me become his slave, Damien. I can’t. It would destroy me. You must promise me no matter what happens that you will let me die.”

“No,” Damien answered to her utter shock.

Senses killed vamps. He had to promise her this. She was dangerous as a vampire. If she told him what she was capable of, then maybe he’d realize how serious it was. The Senses would hunt her down if they knew. She’d be a danger to herself and to everyone else if she became a vamp. “You can’t. It is against your laws to—”

“It is against Senses laws. You’re not a Senses,” Damien clarified.

“Yeah but—”

“What do you want from me, Abb? I can’t give you that promise. End of discussion.”

“So you’ll have me become something evil? Something you hate?” She was pissed. How dare he deny her this one request. “So you’d rather I take your blood and go through the Transition
, then have to kill me anyway when I kill a human with my thirst.” She pounded her fist into his chest. “How dare you? Do you know what I’ll be able to do? Do you know what happens when I turn twenty-five—”

Damien
cupped her chin and his cold stare drove into her like daggers. “End of discussion, Abb.”

She was about to refute
him when his cell rang. He picked it up off the nightstand and said an abrupt “What.” She tried to hear the conversation on the other end, but whoever it was talked too swiftly and the voice was muffled. Damien said nothing, merely listened intently until he hung up.

He
got up from the bed and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. She could hear him pacing back and forth in the tiny kitchen, then the slam of the front door. She panicked, her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps. He never left her alone. Never. Not once had he ventured farther than the next room, and she was afraid that he’d left her here to die alone.

Oh
God, she didn’t want to die that way. Not alone. Not without his familiar scent next to her.

But she deserved this fate. She deserved to die alone and cold, struggling for each last breath, thirst so intense that it strangled her voice. She deserved Damien’s hatred and condemnation for putting him
through so many horrid months.

But she couldn’t control the panic as time slipped by from minutes to hours and still he failed to return. She pounded on the door as a horrifying scream wrenched from her throat.

Kilter headed back downstairs to the
Tomb. He was about to knock on Rayne’s door when he heard the shower turn on. Instead, he picked up the pool cue, corralling the balls.

He had just shot his fifth ball into a pocket when footsteps came down the stairs. He ignored them, not bothering to look up as he leaned over the table to take his next shot.

“Hey, old buddy.”

Kilter stiffened as he smashed the cue into the white ball and sent it flying across the room to crash into a glass table. He threw the cue onto the table and straightened. He was having no luck with the bloody game lately. “What the hell are you doing here, asshole?”

“Waleron called Xamien wanting some help. I volunteered.” Tye walked over and grabbed the white ball that had settled in shards of glass. “Nice one.”

Tye was a reminder of all that went wrong centuries ago, a thorn in his side that
refused to come out even with a scalpel. Tye had been responsible for protecting Gemma when he was away from the castle. He failed. Kilter could hold a grudge for eternity, and Tye didn’t seem to take the hint that he held him accountable. “Fuck off. I don’t need your shit right now.”

“No can do, buddy.” He grinned and picked up a pool cue and chalked it. “Heard Ryker finally lost it.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Hannah was sure something special. And Sandor and Derek . . .” Tye set the chalk down on the ledge. “Wish I could’ve b
een there to kill that Anton bastard myself.”

Kilter pictured Rayne’s soft velvet skin being caressed by the warm water. Should be his hands caressing
it. Instead, he was listening to the butthead who inadvertently led Gemma to her death.

Tye leaned over the table and eyed the white ball. “How’s Rayne?”

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Kilter growled.

Tye
ignored the threat and shot the white ball, which hit the green striped and sank into the left corner pocket. “Lighten up, buddy. Just asking, heard she went through some major shit. Also heard she’s a Senses. What is she? We need a Healer. Xamien has been searching for years for another Healer. She could live in Europe with— ”

Kilter’s control snapped. Tye talking about Rayne sent his anger into overdrive and funneled his powers into his eyes. They began to burn and brighten, pulsating as they focused on Tye.

“Whoa, man.” Tye straightened, throwing the cue down and stepping back while holding up his hands. “Shit, what’s your deal?”

“My deal? My fuckin’ deal? You son-of-a-bitch. You let her go with Ulrich. You sent Gemma to her death, but not before my brother raped her. She was innocent. She was sweet and innocent and you destroyed that. You destroyed her.” Kilter approached, and Tye backed up until his back was against the wall. “I loved her. I promised her she’d be safe. I swore to her everything would be okay.” Kilter grabbed him by the shirt and pressed him into the wall.

“Jesus, Kilter, I told you. We told you. It didn’t go down like that,” Tye said, his eyes wide with alarm. “For once in your life listen to me. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. You can kill me, but before that, listen to the truth about Gemma.” His eyes bulged as the pressure on his chest increased. “Kilter, listen to what I’m telling you. Gemma . . . Gemma and Ulrich . . . she left with Ulrich willingly. She never loved you, man.”

Kilter pressed him further into the wall and the drywall cracked under the pressure.

“Think about it.” He coughed as the pressure in his lungs increased. “Clear your goddamn head and listen to me. It was a setup.” Tye coughed again and sputtered up blood. “She was in love with him. Kilter, she knew about the Senses, and Ulrich promised to change her into one of us. She knew you’d never make her one of us. Shit, you kept what you were from her.”

“No,” Kilter shouted and slammed Tye into the wall. There was a sharp crack of ribs breaking
, and Tye screamed with agony. “You’re lying.”

“No, buddy.” He spit up more blood. “We tried to tell you, when you escaped Ulrich, but you were crazed
, man. Every bleedin’ time we mentioned her name, you went nutso.” Tye attempted to catch his breath as Kilter continued to press into his chest. “Shit like this. You gotta let it go, man.”

He never heard her approach, but he felt
a gentle hand on his back and the other on the arm that was holding Tye against the wall.

“Kilter,” she whispered.

“Get out of here, Rayne.” Kilter growled.

“Rayne . . . get Keir.” Tye winced as the pressure in his chest increased.

Kilter slammed him into the wall again. Blind rage filled his mind and body, the horror of his past releasing uncontrollable emotions. Nothing else mattered except destruction. The pain of what he suffered mixed with the fury of Gemma’s torture and death. It was the Senses’ fault. They had done that to her.

“Kilter, please,” Rayne said.

The warmth of her hands spread across his body causing a warm glow through his insides as if the darkness was being melted away. The fury was disintegrating into sparks of light that twinkled then dissipated.

“What the hell?”

His erratic breathing began to calm and his pulse slowed. The muscles in his body relaxed with the decline of his rage. What was going on? His confusion intensified when he looked at Tye and saw the agony in his expression and the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

What had he done? He dropped Tye and grabbed his head with his hands, staggering back as the rage left his mind. “Rayne?” he asked bewildered.

She kept her hands on his arm as if she had to be touching his bare skin. He noticed her nod to Tye, who in turn returned the gesture. “Tell him what he needs to hear,” she urged. “I can keep the rage away.”

“What?” Kilter asked with confusion.

“Tell him,” Rayne said.

Tye hesitated.

“Please. He must hear the truth.”

Tye conceded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Kilter, remember how Gemma looked at him? Your brother. The way she appeared flustered around him.”

“She . . . she loved me. I loved her.” Kilter said, his body leaning against the pool table, Rayne next to him.

“I know you did, buddy. But you have this false perception of her. See the signs. Think about it. Cause they’re all there. We just never saw it, until it was too late.”

Numerous times she’d appeared out of nowhere, her checks flushed, dress and hair in disarray. He’d thought she was blushing at his attention. That she’d been hurrying to greet him. He’d thought it was sweet. That she was nervous around him.

Gemma was a virgin, it couldn’t be true. She always spoke badly about Ulrich—how she didn’t trust him—that he was looking at her weird. Could it all be a lie, a setup?

“No. He tortured her. I heard her screaming,” Kilter said, but with the rage gone, he saw it more clearly. Ulrich never tortured her in front of him. All he heard were her screams. If Ulrich wanted to make him suffer, why hadn’t he tortured her in front of him?

Rayne’s fingers curled around his forearm
, and he put his arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his waist. She quickly put her hands back on his bare skin and he instantly felt lightness inside him.