Authors: Cindy Paterson
She managed ten steps—she counted—before his voice rose over the howling wind. “I was there.”
She closed her eyes and raised her fist to her mouth, smothering her cry. She willed the tears away, knowing that tonight she’d discover what happened to her two years ago.
His scent came up behind her
, and she felt his hands on her shoulders as he gently pulled her around. He lowered her hand from her mouth and cupped her chin.
“I was there,” he repeated.
And then she saw the glistening in his eyes. Any anger was swept away with the bitter wind in one moment. He knew what she’d been through, knew what had happened, and had lived with the pain for the past two years just as she had.
“Cages. We were in cages hanging from the ceiling. You were so brave. God, you were brave.”
She stifled her cry, her mind reeling with confusion, searching for some sort of memory. The sound, a chain cranking, a cage being lowered, fear coursing through her veins, knowing pain would come again.
A voice sounded from the end of the alley. “Green
Eyes, don’t.”
Both of them tensed at the voice, and his arm wrapped around her waist and drew her up next to him. Footsteps crunched under the snow until a figure appeared clothed in a long black leather coat that billowed out behind her with each steady step.
Danielle straightened her spine as the woman came into full view. Shit, she was stunning. Not model beauty, no, she was only about five foot three and her hair required 911-style, but naturally stunning. Her hair was cropped short with jagged edges that reached an inch below her chin. Her catlike eyes gleamed a harsh brown, piercing and determined. Her features were sharp and her skin was a flawless almond color. South American, maybe, or Spanish; whichever, the woman was captivating.
“Who are you?” Danielle
looked from the woman to Balen, wondering if this was maybe his wife. The thought sat like a bucket of lard in her stomach. Okay, he was way out of her league anyway. That had never stopped her before, but no question this woman looked as if she could handle a Mr. Turkey-neck with one hand and, if she and Balen were involved, well . . . What was she thinking? The woman could have him. All she wanted were answers.
The woman stopped several feet from them, eyes never once leaving Balen. A standoff. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“He knows you’re back. And there are complications, Green
Eyes.” Her voice was harsh, like sandpaper scratching a marble slab.
“What kind?” His arm tightened around her waist.
Danielle was impressed with the woman. She looked intrepid with her steady stance and unblinking eyes. “Who are you?” Danielle asked again.
Danielle noticed the two of them shift their gazes to the
north. The woman swore and Danielle thought how bizarre it was to hear curses coming from her mouth. She seemed too fragile . . . no, not fragile, rather too enthralling with her strong features and perfect skin.
“Leave,” the woman said. Her gaze shot to Danielle and then back to him. “I will see that she returns home safe. He won’t be pleased but
—” she shrugged, “—he is never pleased, is he?”
“Why?” he asked.
“You fought and won. You are still one of us.”
“You trust me?” Balen raised his brows.
She gave an abrupt nod. “Leave.”
“I’ve returned for judgment. I will not run,” he said.
“What judgment? What are you talking about?” Danielle asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.
The woman looked to the
north again. “Fine. Do as you will, but for now go. Walk back on your own accord, not as a prisoner. I will keep him occupied.”
Balen gave an abrupt nod and turned to Danielle.
“What’s going on?” Danielle asked, easing out of his grasp. Jealousy she’d never before experienced, now settled inside as if an ember of wood slowly burning.
“Danielle I . . . be well,” he said and then took off in a dead run.
The woman turned to her. “Go inside.” She nodded to an approaching figure. “Meeting this man is not in your best interest.” Danielle hesitated. “Fine. Stay. Just realize that this guy has killed sweet young women without a second thought of remorse.”
Danielle glanced once more at the forthcoming tall
figure and then turned and ran.
****
Delara waited, listening to snow crumble beneath his feet as he drew closer.
Facing Waleron alone was something she had never intended to do again. Her body betrayed her with marshmallow legs, a racing heart and flush
ed complexion as memories came rushing back to humiliate her further.
Jesus Christ, she was a bowl of Jell-O whenever he was near. It was all she could do to remain standing as his eyes met hers with that familiar glint of blue. A blue that made all the reasons she left come rushing to the surface like saltwater being poured over open wounds. She thought the hurt had been erased after all this time
, but instead the pain came slamming back into her body.
He reached her in three strides with long confident legs that she had tried desperately to expunge from her mind. The man who inundated her dreams and plagued her waking thoughts. Okay, forgetting him was like attemptin
g to forget that you were a Senses warrior.
He didn’t touch her and he didn’t have to
, for she could feel his breath seeping into her as if his fingertips were caressing her skin. It wounded—broke every shred of dignity she had to have him stand before her with that familiar stoic expression. No remorse at what he’d done. No arms to encase her into his hidden world, which she had shared with him for a moment in time before he shut her out.
Bastard. Cold
, callous bastard.
Waleron stared, eyes like ice, voice even colder. “I will ask once. Why?”
“An explanation?” She had no qualms about repeating herself—cold, callous bastard. “That’s all you want and yet you know the answer, don’t you? I made it clear and you made yourself crystal clear. Nothing more to be said.” She tilted her head up, meeting his expressionless face, knowing that, inside, his thoughts were streaming through his mind, yet he never shared them with her, or anyone else for that matter.
His hand reached forward and she stood completely still. Her insides were liquefying with anticipation of his touch. God, she wanted him to touch her again. Did this craving ever disappear? No, he was like nicotine’s hold on
her mind and body.
When the back of his hand stroked her cheek, she thought her knees would give way, but it was his eyes that kept her standing, a translucent blue that locked her in place.
“I thought,” Waleron began, and then he changed his mind and grabbed the back of her neck. His hand was gentle, but at the same time forceful, as though he wouldn’t take any refusal on her part if she decided to bolt. His breath wafted across her face and then his lips followed, seeking the warmth of her own as they met like they belonged and had never separated after all this time.
H
e roamed her mouth, sensual, calm and serene. It was his tongue that drove her hands to seek his chest, palms resting on the tattooed muscles that remained covered by his black shirt. His fingers stroked the back of her neck, and goose bumps rose across her skin, while their tongues danced a slow and sexual song.
When she moaned beneath his kiss
, she instantly felt his withdrawal.
No,
she thought.
Don’t do this again; don’t pull away from me. It hurts too much.
But it was too late. Already, she felt the tension in him, the coldness seeping across
his body to leak into her. God, he made her hate herself.
Her hands fell from his chest and she shivered from the cold. Time couldn’t erase him. The realization hit her that she’d never break away from this man. Tears fell
, and she was disgusted with herself for allowing him to see her like this.
“Why? Why do you continue to do this?” Delara asked.
He kept his gaze riveted on her, but she saw the anger and it terrified the living hell out of her. But she had learned one thing in the two years she’d been away, and that was no matter how scared she was, she had to stand her ground. “God, don’t look at me like it was my fault. I had to. You left me with . . .” Her knees weakened at the thought of him being angry with her. She could deal with anything except his anger. She’d survive without his love, but living with his bitterness?
“You left!” Waleron voic
e rose to the stars. “You fuckin’ left!”
Oh shit, he was livid. He never swore.
His voice was so filled with rage that it took Delara every ounce of courage to remain standing in front of him.
“Two years, Delara. Two years I searched for you. Nothing. No e-mail. No messages
. No mind connection. No anything. For that, I won’t forgive.” He took out his Pez.
Oh, that makes sense
.
Reach for the Pez.
She hated the damn thing.
Her hand shot out and she grabbed the candy dispenser, flinging it into the snow.
“You walked away,” Delara said. “You walked away from me. You chose life without me. What was I supposed to do? Watch you go off to have sex with Trinity and whoever else was the flavor of the month?” His eyes flashed a red and she took a step back. Her mind kept telling her to run, but she couldn’t. Not this time. He had never hurt her physically. No, only Tarek had slammed his fist into her body over and over again like a goddamn punching bag.
“It was necessary. You know this,” Waleron said.
“Bullshit. You chose to. We all have choices and you chose to sleep with that witch for her visions. I get it . . . you protect us . . . all of us, but that doesn’t mean I have to stand around and watch you with another woman.”
“You will return to us,” he said. She huffed at that familiar tone that meant business.
“I will not let you leave us again,” Waleron declared with ferocity.
Stand your ground
. She tilted her chin up to help with her self-confidence. “No, Pez. I’m not coming back to live at the house. And if you force this, I will retaliate. I need more time away from . . . the Talde. I deserve this.”
His frustration was evident by the subtle twitch in his left cheek. She knew it well, just like everything else to do with this man. “I want you in the Toronto House
Talde. With Balen gone, you are our only Tracker. You are a warrior. It is your duty to protect our kind,” Waleron said.
Her back stiffened. He had no right to ask this of her.
Couldn’t he see, didn’t he feel her love when he touched her, or was he so oblivious to others’ feelings that he saw it only as lust between them? “I will aid them if needed. Otherwise, I’m staying elsewhere.”
“And Tarek?” Waleron asked.
Bastard had to bring up him. “He is still in Rest, as you are well aware. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“You cannot defeat him, Delara. His Resting period will be over in a year.”
“It isn’t your problem,” Delara said. Yeah, but knowing Waleron, he’d make it his problem. The guy had an issue with allowing others deal with their own tribulations. An addiction to protectiveness—among other things.
Waleron closed his eyes for a second longer than usual and for an instant she thought she saw his pain, but then again maybe she’d been imagining it. “I cannot give you what you seek, Delara. You know this. I made it clear that night. I will never love again.”
“Yeah, and I was ever the fool to think that maybe that one night would change your mind. Well, I’m not a fool anymore, Pez. I’ve grown up and I’m stronger. So be angry. Throw a tantrum and hate me for what I did and will do again. Because I want love. I want something you can’t give, so I will find love elsewhere.” She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. The lies poured out and she knew he was uncertain whether her words spoke truth. She felt him pushing at her mind, but she managed to keep her thoughts blocked.
Not this time, Waleron. You can’t hurt me again.
She wanted more. A hell of a lot more. Truth, passion, the ultimate giving between two people. He had all those qualities within him, somewhere deep in his black heart. She’d seen his laughter, his gentle touch and his teasing. The only time in her life that she felt truly alive and happy. Then it all shattered to pieces. With one caress of his hand across her cheek
, he’d told her that never again would they be together.
She’d been so foolish to believe.
All those years she’d hoped and prayed Waleron would come to his senses, but he never did. And his coldness had seeped into her like a leech, sucking out her heart and pulling her under so she couldn’t breathe. If she stayed near him without his love any longer she’d become like him, cold and unfeeling.
The deal he made with Trinity had been the last straw. To stand in front of him, Trinity at his side
, and know that he would spend the week within her seductive arms—it had killed the last shred of hope she had for them. If he had one ounce of compassion for her, he’d never have made that bargain with that witch Trinity. So she had left wounded, bleeding and alone. Jedrik had been devastated, but facing Waleron after he . . . no, she couldn’t.