STEP (The Senses) (33 page)

“You mean kill them?” Anstice asked.

“Yes. She robs them of all emotions, until there is nothing left. One cannot survive without emotions. They die.”

“Holy crap
, that’s cool,” Galen said.

“Have you done this?” Keir asked.

Rayne hesitated then slowly nodded. “Once. To a guard. I will never do it again.”

“Understandably,” Anstice said wit
h sympathy. “Very disturbing.”

“Or interesting,” Trinity said. Her lips twitched with amusement, but she wisely held her tongue when footsteps entering the room from the kitchen had everyone turning their attention to the one person who dared to be late.

Delara did not apologize, nor did she look sorry for being late, rather she appeared like a pissed immortal warrior woman with vengeance on her mind. Her eyes swept the room quickly, halting mere seconds on Waleron before traveling to Trinity.

The tension in the room heightened and Rayne swore she could feel every muscle in the room flinching. There was no question that Delara and Trinity hated one another
, and Waleron had to be the reason. Rayne knew Delara as a warm, amiable woman who didn’t hold a grudge nor would fall under Trinity’s false pretense of composure. No, something personal between them had built a rift so destructive that even the great Waleron would have trouble separating the two women if they decided to have it out.

“Nice of you to join us,” Waleron
said.

“God, Sass,” Jedrik said
, shaking his head.

Waleron continued, “We were waiting for you to discuss why Liam would be interested in acquiring Abigail and now suddenly Rayne. You are closest to Liam. Perhaps you have some insight?”

Delara obviously took offense to Waleron’s comment, her chin jutting out and the muscles in her jaw contracting. “No. Liam and I stick to conversations about sex.”

Jedrik swore beneath his breath while Galen lowered his head to his hands. This couldn’t be good, a Senses sleeping with a vamp.
Delara, what are you doing?

Trinity’s loud laughter echoed, her expressive features lighting up. “Oh what a marvelous playmate, Delara. A vamp, and one so enthralling. Do tell—how is he in bed? Gentle or rough? I would imagine he is very attentive to a woman’s needs. The vamp is charming
, after all.”

“Enough,” Waleron shouted. The sound struck a harsh c
hord in every person in the room; even Trinity flinched. Rayne imagined that was a rarity.

Delara remained standing near the door, as if she were ready to flee in a heartbeat. Rayne watched the play between Trinity and Delara and it was electric, both
seemed itching to use their capabilities on one another. Trinity’s fingers were tapping impatiently against her thigh, and Delara’s fingers were spread on either side of her legs ready to blow the witch across the room in a single moment.

Of course, Rayne suspected neither would act with
Waleron in the room.

“What does Liam want with a witch?” Waleron asked.

Delara shrugged. “No idea.”

“But why risk pissing us off?” Jedrik asked. “Liam isn’t stupid
, regardless of being a psychotic pervert.”

Delara shifted her feet and it drew all their attention. Senses rarely showed their unease unless of course they were guilty of something. “He wanted us to take Abby. My guess is he knew Abby was pregnant and couldn’t survive the transition. So, he let us take her
, knowing if anyone could save her life, it would be us.” She hesitated and kept shifting her eyes from person to person, except of course Trinity. “He was content with her gone for the first while and then . . . in the last week or so, he’s been impatient.” She looked at Jedrik. “That’s why I’ve never asked you about Abby. I knew Liam would read my thoughts and use it against us.”

“Are you still sleeping with him, Delara?” This question right from the witch’s mouth.

Everyone tensed as Delara’s eyes shot to Trinity and her back went ramrod straight, her fingers curling in her green army pants. “Are you still fucking Waleron?”

Jedrik groaned and Anstice gasped
, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. Kilter shoved Rayne behind him, his body becoming a shield to what she could only guess was becoming a volatile situation.

Trinity’s laughter was husky and would have swept any human male off his feet. “Ah, touché
, my dear.”

“Trinity
.” Waleron addressed her with a sharp warning undertone. “Why would Liam risk our wrath in order to obtain Abby? Why does he care if she lives? He could have washed his hands of her when he discovered she was pregnant.”

Trinity slid her penetrating gaze from Delara’s and the tension in her shoulders magnified. “Abigail must never become a vampire.”

“Excuse me?” Waleron asked, eyes narrowing on Trinity.

“What are you hiding, Trin?” Jedrik asked.

Trinity sent him a haughty look, her fingers tapping lightly on her thighs. “I demand to know where she’s being held. I will have Mariana take her to the realm.”

“She is in
detox. You take her now, she will die,” Balen said.

“The Wraths will kill her if
Mariana takes her to the realm,” Jedrik said raising his voice.

Trinity remained silent and
, for the first time since she entered the room, she appeared uneasy. She actually backed up a step so her back was closer to the wall. Everyone waited for an answer, and Rayne was certain Trinity was hiding something.

“My visions do not include those of my coven,” Trinity said. “I did not know Abigail was playing with Liam. Last I knew, she’d been playing with a Senses. Abigail had a difficult childhood
, and because of that, she is rather spontaneous and foolish. She also has always detested vampires.” Trinity looked straight at Waleron. “But if she has drunk from Liam, she must be taken to the realm and killed.”

Jedrik stood, his eyes glaring at Trinity. “Bull friggin’ shit. No way.”

Waleron raised his hand and gave a nod to Trinity to continue.

“As you know, witches come into their powers on their twenty-fifth birthday. Abigail will have her mother Leona’s power.”

“And?” Balen asked.

“Liam must know about it,” Trinity said. “He must have discovered who her mother was.”

“And what is that power, Trinity?” Kilter asked.

Rayne could tell that Trinity wanted to keep her secrets to herself, but surrounded by Senses it left her with little choice unless she desired a war.

“She can turn water into blood,” Trinity announced.

“Holy frig,” Jedrik said at the same time as Balen, Danielle and Keir swore under their breaths.

“And so Liam will have an endless supply if she turns,” Anstice murmured.

“When is her birthday?” Waleron asked.

Trinity paled, and it made her blood-red lips stand out even further. “Yesterday.”

Waleron’s face turned deadly, brows lowering and eyes churning in swirls of blue and white with gold flecks. “Damien,” he said. And with that one word, he turn
ed to mist, disappearing from the room.

“You stupid bitch,” Balen shouted. “Damien will give her water to ease the blood thirst. She will turn.”

“Then Damien will have to kill her,” Trinity said. “As a vampire Abigail will be under Liam’s rule. That is unacceptable. An endless supply of blood will make him very powerful. Vampires around the world will come under his rule.”

“No shit,” Jedrik said, running his hand through his unruly curls. Suddenly he jolted, his eyes widening and his frown fierce. “You want her to Turn,” he shouted at Trinity. “So you can wash your hands of her. You hated Leona for passing off her daughter to you. Your coven will be in c
onstant danger with Abby’s ability.” He leapt off the couch and went for Trinity.

The emotional turmoil of the
past six months came oozing to swamp bottom the moment he woke mid-afternoon and felt coldness seeping into his body. He scrambled off the bed and knelt on the floor, his fingers curling around Abby’s limp, cold hand.

Nothing in his immortal life could prepare him for this single instant when a woman so young and deserving of life lay lifeless before him. Shallow breaths inhaled with agonizing
, coarse slowness, then exhaled in a long drawn-out sighs. Pale and gaunt. Her eyes remained closed to the light that shone through the barred window, and his heart skipped beats at the thought he might never see them again.

Everything in his body screamed with torment. His insides tossing violently like a tsunami, heart shattering into fragmented slivers.

“Abb, don’t,” he begged. Lowering his lips to the back of her hand, his mouth caressed the cold, lifeless skin. Her pulse beat beneath his touch, and it was struggling with each thump. Her life was being sucked into a black hole. “Please,” he said. It was a voice he didn’t recognize, a tortured animal crying out with pain.

Why did it hurt so much? Because he felt . . . worthless. With each ragged beat of her heart, he knew he
’d failed her. He couldn’t let her die. Not Abby. Not when she’d made it this far. When they had made it this far.

Her will to live had slipped through her fingers. No, it was his fingers. It had been his job to give her reason and hope to live.

Without her, he was nothing. She made his life worthy.

He closed his eyes and leaned over the bed, his lips touching her cold brow. Slowly he let his lips travel across her face, the tip of her nose, the corner of her lips, the sexy cleft in her chin. She never moved. He leaned his forehead onto her arm, his grip on her hand tightening, afraid to let go, terrified that if he did
, she’d slip from his grasp forever.

“I know you’re strong, Abb. You can hold on.” Anger surfaced at her giving up, at himself for being unable to do anything except sit by her bed and watch her destruction. “For
God’s sake Abb, don’t you dare give up.”

He couldn’t recall ever holding a woman’s hand as he did now. He hated it. He hated that he cared what happened to his one-night-stand girl. Women made him cringe
, with their emotional baggage, the jabs they gave to the men they so-called cared about. He detested how they needed a man to care for them or the need for confirmation with their looks. It drove him nuts to hear them gossiping.

He stroked her temple
, then her cold pale lips. But Abby was different. Her laughter was real and her eyes were filled with the brightness of the sun. She was smart and playful, brave, sexy and . . . damn it, stupid for sleeping with him. But she didn’t deserve to die.

He felt a feeble squeeze on his hand and her lashes fluttered
, then he was looking into her eyes. The relief to see her eyes was like the weight of a collapsed building being lifted off him. He inhaled a ragged breath.

So beautiful.

He grabbed the glass of water he’d tried numerous times over the past couple of days to get her to drink, but all she did was push his hand away and turn her head. “Abb, drink. You have to drink.”

She ignored the glass of water and instead reached her free hand
out and pressed her index finger to his lips. “Damien.” Her eyes closed for a few seconds and his heart stopped. “Thank you for coming back and not letting me die alone.” Her voice was a barely audible, as if it was a struggle to get words past the dryness. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Christ
, Abb. You’re not going to die.” He stroked her hair with the tip of his fingers. “Just ride this out a while longer. I won’t leave you again. It was stupid. I just freaked out for a few hours. It won’t happen again. But you have to drink, Abb.” He held the glass up to her lips, but she turned her head away again. He cursed, frustrated at her refusal, and set the glass of water on the nightstand.

She squeezed his hand. “It was fun, you know. Us. That night.” She stopped to take a deep breath then coughed. “In the shower was my favorite. You looked . . .”
She coughed again. “You looked hot all wet.” She closed her eyes and readjusted her grip on his hand. “Don’t let go, okay.”

“This is not happening, Abb.” He shook his head, horror filling his insides as if black tar was being injected into his veins. “No. You will stay with me. Don’t you even think about dying.”

A tiny smile came to her lips. “I really like you, you know. You’re so . . . so cute, when . . . I know you . . . want to be tough.” Her grip faltered. “It was my fault. This. I thought I could destroy them, but . . . I didn’t know the bloodlust was so . . . strong. The baby.” She closed her eyes, head rolling to the side with a long drawn-out sigh. “It’s better . . . this way, Damien.”

“Abb
! Abb. Goddamn it, Abby.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her once. Twice. Her limp body remained unmoving. He frantically looked at her chest. No rise and fall.

A strangled cry left his throat like a horrid screech of an animal in unbearable pain. He pulled her to him and her head fell back, hair hanging tangled against the back of his hand as he supported her neck.