Stygian Read online

  “This is bullshit. The decision is not yours, Delara,” Damien growled. “It’s been decided.”

  Delara met Damien head on. “You’re being a dick. Just because your sorry ass has been sent to Rest doesn’t mean others deserve the same fate. And obviously sending you to Rest did nothing for your shitty personality.”

  Waleron stood three feet away from Delara and his eyes hadn’t left her since the moment she appeared. Cold and calculating. His expression looked as if he were fighting a rage that had enveloped every molecule. “But Damien is right. The Deaconry has made their decision, Delara.”

  “Obviously, you didn’t fight hard enough. Appeal it.” Delara cocked her hip and placed her hand on it.

  Jedrik was staring at Delara, his mouth agape. Guess he hadn’t known she was back. “Delara? What the hell? Where have you been?”

  Delara ignored Jedrik and remained staring at Waleron. A bolt of lightning couldn’t break their magnetic stare apart.

  “Delara. In private,” Waleron said.

  Shit, Delara had to be blocking him from her mind, otherwise they’d have all the privacy they needed using telepathy. That had to be pissing Waleron off even more.

  Her brows rose. “No, thanks. And anything I have to say can be said in front of the Talde.”

  I noticed Waleron’s hands clench, matching his jaw. His lips pursed and the books on the shelf behind Keir began to jiggle. The bar on the far side of the room shook and the air grew warm, as if Waleron’s rage was heating the oxygen. “Delara,” Waleron ground out.

  “I demand an appeal. And if you don’t ask for one, then I will.”

  Silence.

  I was surprised to find her mind was open to me as I spoke to her. “What are you doing? He’s furious, back off before he puts you in Rest, Delara.”

  “Danni was tortured, and you protected her despite knowing the consequences. You don’t deserve Rest. But, there’s something else. If you’re put in Rest, then something bad will happen to Danni.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” My chest tightened and my heart started pounding wildly.

  Delara’s gaze shifted to Waleron, and her expression hardened. “That’s why I’m here, Balen. I wouldn’t have returned otherwise. If Waleron puts you in Rest, Danni will die.”

  “What the fuck?” I shouted and all eyes turned to me.

  Delara grunted and rolled her eyes. Obviously, she hadn’t intended for the others to know that we’d been speaking to one another.

  Shit, Waleron looked livid. Facing his wrath was not on anyone’s list of things to do in an immortal lifetime. “Now! Delara.” Without a word, Waleron walked from the room. Delara glanced at me then followed.

  “Don’t ever disobey me again.” Waleron’s voice was tight, restrained—deadly.

  Okay, he was pissed. I’d overstepped. But damn it, I wanted to hurt Waleron the way I was hurting.

  Fuck, I should’ve never come back. But, this time it wasn’t my choice, and defying the order was not in my best interest, nor was it in Balen and Danni’s.

  “You send him to Rest, Danni will die.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but being anywhere near Waleron when he was this pissed off put a quake in it. I had to leave here before my heart, which I’d spent years repairing, broke again. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t live like this being around him all the time.

  “You mean she’ll kill herself?”

  “No. I mean she’ll suffer and then die.”

  “Stop playing games, Delara. And lower your block.”

  I’d never let him read my thoughts again. It would be like allowing him to strip me naked, fuck me, and then have him walk away. Screw that. “If Balen is sent to Rest, she’ll die. If he is exiled, depending on the distance, she’ll suffer every minute he is away from her.”

  “What are you talking about?” Waleron’s stance shifted and he crossed his arms over his chest.

  As soon as the punishment had been passed on Balen, I’d had a visitor and found out what had been done. It was bad. Shit, it was worse than bad. “She’s human. She can’t survive if he is away from her. I can’t tell you how I know this, but you’re going to have to trust me.” Yeah, swearing to keep the culprit under wraps sucked, but blackmail spoke volumes. I had no intention of letting anyone know where the hell I’d been spending my nights recently.

  “That trust left the day you walked away from us, Delara.” Waleron’s eyes roamed over my body and my breath hitched. Why did he have to look at me as if he wanted to fuck me and destroy me at the same time?

  “Don’t do it, Tac.” I called him that because he was tactical about everything he did since he’d come back from the hell he’d been in. Shit, he was even tactical about breathing.

  “Who is responsible?” Waleron began pacing and I shifted uneasily. He rarely paced. He was always steady as a mountain. Well, the mountain was having an avalanche right now and I was sitting at the bottom.

  Okay, lie when you have to. “I don’t know.” I tried to keep my eyes directed on him, but within seconds, I was looking away from his intensity.

  “Who?” Waleron repeated.

  He was pounding on the door of my mind. If he broke the barrier down, he’d find out who told me and I’d be in serious trouble. “I . . . I . . .” Goddamn Waleron was forcing me to tell the truth. I fought his power, a struggle of minds he’d soon win.

  A sudden sharp pain bolted through my body and I staggered, falling to my knees and breaking Waleron’s mental hold.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  He went to reach down and help me, but I quickly leapt to my feet. Waleron’s touch would heighten his ability to get into my mind and I couldn’t let that happen.

  Okay, get this done and leave. “If you care at all for Balen and Danni, then you’re going to have to trust me.” I put my hand to my head as I felt the push on my mind and it wasn’t Waleron doing it. The push was debilitating, and I winced as I lowered my block. Heat seeped into my body, and then he spoke to me.

  “I don’t like that asshole near you.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Waleron grabbed my arm, his fingers bruising.

  “I . . . I have to go.” His eyes flashed red, and then my eyes drifted to his neck where his snake tattoo sat. It was uncoiling—fuck. “Let me go, Waleron. You’ve been quite eager to do it before. It’s the same process.”

  His eyes narrowed and his hand dropped from my arm. “Are you in trouble?”

  A whole hell of a lot. “Don’t put him in Rest.”

  I turned and walked to the front door.

  “I can force you to stay.”

  “Yes.” My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. “But Tarek did that already and look what happened.” I knew that would get to him and from the low hiss of his snake tattoo—his Ink—it had. Waleron was feeling—what a concept.

  “Stay,” Waleron said, “because I ask it of you.”

  Oh, God. I closed my eyes, fingernails digging into my pants leg.

  I opened the front door and a cold breeze gusted into me, pushing me back a step into his warm, hard chest. He stood stiff, unmoving.

  “Delara.” He whispered my name like a fingertip drifting across my skin.

  Love me like I know you can. If you love me, I can survive what I have done. Just tell me, my love.

  But he never made a move to touch me and I walked away. Again, he let me go.

  Waleron strode back into the living room looking pissed as hell, but there was also a flicker of uncertainty I’d never witnessed in my Taldeburu. He looked directly at me, eyes steady, although he hesitated as if he was contemplating what to do. Delara was gone.

  “Exile, in the Pyrenees mountains until an appeal is heard,” Waleron announced.

  My brows lifted with surprise. What the hell? Obviously, Delara’s arguments had done some good. Exile was certainly better than Rest. If whatever Delara was saying was true, then Danni would be safe. Thank fuck, because I knew if I�
�d lost it and physically fought being put in Rest, then Waleron would have easily killed me, and then I could do fuck all to help Danni.

  “But the—” Jedrik began.

  “I’ll deal with the Wraiths,” Waleron said. “Let’s go.”

  I always knew Danni and I were an impossible match, even if I hadn’t broken our law. She was human and I was an immortal Scar. Shit like that didn’t happen.

  Keir approached me and held out his hand. I hesitated, surprised by the gesture. “My girl wishes to know her brother. When this is over, I expect you to make that happen.”

  I nodded, but it was a lie because I knew, I’d never return here.

  THE PAIN UPON WAKING and finding him gone sucked, but after a few hours it was as if my emotions were in a blender with the shredding blade going full tilt. Emptiness was a desolate emotion, and, sure as shit, I felt it. God, was it possible to have physical pain when you were emotionally hurting? My stomach was killing me, and my head pounded as if I were hung over after a night of mixing rye, tequila, and beer.

  I moaned and lay back in bed, feeling like I was going to pass out. Sensations pumped through my body. My heart raced. I was sweating, and anxiety built with each breath I took. I groaned as my stomach cramped, and then . . . Oh, crap. I vaulted from bed, diving for the bathroom just in time to spew the contents of my breakfast into the toilet.

  It had to be the flu or something. Probably, the stress of everything that had happened over the last few days had brought it on.

  I washed my face then looked in the mirror. My skin was a pasty color and there were dark circles under my eyes. The last time I had the flu was in grade school, when Bobby Fradkin passed the virus to half the class.

  I swallowed three ibuprofen, brushed my teeth, and then had to kneel over the toilet to throw up again. So much for the drugs taking any effect. Makeup was going to be my best friend today.

  I was sweating profusely by the time I put on my eyeliner, and from the shit job I did, I looked worse than before.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. “God, Balen, why do I feel like . . . like I need you here.” It was fucking with my head, the emotions, the feeling as if I was falling over the edge of a cliff, waiting to land smack on the hard pavement.

  “Damn it.” I slowly sank to floor, brought my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I barely knew this guy and yet . . . Jesus, I was crazy. It felt like I was dying and it was because he wasn’t with me.

  I’d survived on my own without a mother, with a father who struggled to support us with his constant state of depression. He’d died the day my mother had. He was just a shell of existence until he blew his brains out.

  I’d fought against the odds and made it as an artist without help, without anyone. So why did I need this man so much it hurt? Why was I falling apart?

  Splat meowed and pawed at my leg. “God, Splat, I can’t even stomach the thought of eating, and you want me to open a can of your disgusting, smelly chunks and gravy.”

  Bed. I had to lie down for a few hours. The gallery would have to stay closed today. Whatever I’d come down with wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  I made it halfway across the room then stopped. I stared at the bed where Balen had been last night. Shivers gripped my body and I rubbed my arms up and down. I’d never believed in premonitions, but . . . Coldness swept through my veins as dread shadowed my mind.

  Pain.

  Death.

  I staggered backward, tears trickling down my checks. I gasped as a razor-sharp pain gripped my insides so intense it was like someone ripped me open with a knife.

  I collapsed to the floor.

  Then darkness.

  “Something’s wrong with her.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood. “We have to go back.”

  Waleron remained lying back in his seat, eyes closed. “We’re too far away. It’s impossible for you to pick up on her.”

  I paced the length of the private jet, raking my hand through my hair. Bullshit, it was Danni. She was in pain. Sick. Jesus, I could feel her pain with every breath.

  “No, it’s her, for Christ’s sake.” I knew my abilities were incapable of picking up a scent from this distance. It made no sense, but, fuck logical—it was her.

  Waleron opened his eyes and I could feel him pushing at my mind. “It’s impossible.”

  I stopped pacing. “Screw impossible. She’s in trouble.”

  My words had no effect on Waleron; instead, the guy sat in his seat, expressionless with arctic eyes watching me. I wished like hell I could read the man’s mind, because right now Waleron appeared like he didn’t give a crap if Danni died.

  Someone was bloody well going to get their ass over to her place. We were too far for telepathy, so I reached for the phone on the back of one of the seats. As soon as my hand touched the surface, I felt a zap of electricity pierce my body. I abruptly turned to Waleron. “Damn it. Don’t be a coldhearted bastard for once in your fuckin’ life.”

  “You need to calm down before I put you in DP.” Waleron picked up the phone.

  I cursed under my breath, but shut up. Deep Sleep was a state of unconsciousness and only Taldeburu’s and a rare few other Scars were capable of it.

  Suddenly, all emotions I was receiving from Danni evaporated. My chest caved into a black oblivion as panic surged through my body.

  “No,” I roared. I clenched my jaw as my insides coiled as if ready to explode into a million pieces. Danni.

  “Keir says Anstice is sleeping, recovering from healing Jedrik. He had a run-in with a Long Neck an hour ago. Damien will go to the gallery.”

  “Damien? The guy’s an asshole. And he hates women.” Of all people, he had to be the biggest jerk in the history of Scars. Okay, supposedly Kilter was the worst, but I’d never met him and hated forming opinions without knowing for myself. “We have to go back,” I said.

  Waleron reached in his front coat pocket and pulled out the familiar duck head candy dispenser. The click sounded and a white pill popped out into his hand. He slipped it into his mouth. “You’ve been deemed guilty for your crimes by the Deaconry. They’ll be pissed off over my disregard for not putting you into Rest. If we ignore exile, they’ll retaliate with death.”

  “I’ll take the risk.”

  Waleron’s jaw tightened and eyes narrowed.

  My breathing became deep and ragged. I felt the disquiet seep through my body like nails being driven into my skin. Waleron looked too calm and accepting of what was happening. Like he knew—

  “What did Delara tell you? Why didn’t you put me into Rest? Is it true? Would Danni have died? What the hell is going on?”

  “My decisions aren’t any of your concern.”

  “If it has anything to do with Danni, it fuckin’ does.” I tried to calm the fear mixed with rage. I needed Waleron to get the pilots to turn the plane around, and pissing him off was not going to help. “Whatever Delara said to change your mind and risk the wrath of the Deaconry has to be damn important, otherwise you’d never go against them. But right now, all I care about is Danni, and if she is harmed, I’ll be the most pissed-off Scar you’ve ever encountered.”

  Waleron’s voice lowered and the snake tattoo on the side of his neck twitched. “Are you threatening me?”

  I made a low growl in my throat. “It’s not a fuckin’ threat. It’s what will happen.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, and yet, I felt as if everything was slipping away—even Danni. “Her scent is gone. It’s like . . . she’s . . .” I couldn’t say the word. “I can’t lose her.” I sank down into one of the leather seats and put my head in my hands.

  “You’ll lose her anyway. She’s human and mortal.”

  I stiffened, hating to hear the truth.

  The phone rang and Waleron answered. Few words were spoken on Waleron’s part, and then he hung up.

  He met my eyes, cold and indifferent. “Damien’s with her,” Walero
n said. “She’s ill. He believes it is the flu of some kind.”

  Flu? Bullshit. It was different than the flu. I had to get back to her.

  “Damien will stay with her until Anstice recovers enough to go over there,” Waleron said.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I had no time to react or respond to the scowling guy with the severe features standing beside my bed as a wave of nausea hit me. He swore beneath his breath then held out the garbage can from my bathroom. I leaned over and dry heaved into it then spat.

  I noticed the tattoo that marked the back of his hand, which traveled up his arm then disappeared under his white T-shirt. He had jet black hair, square jaw, and eyes that held no sympathy in their dark depths. A jagged scar ran across his left cheek, which twitched and made his glower scarier. What the hell was a muscled up, pissed off Neanderthal doing in my bedroom, holding a garbage can for me to puke in?

  “Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?” By the looks of him, the latter I expected wasn’t an issue for him. I did feel pretty helpless with no weapon, except a stupid garbage pail, and I’m sure he’d laugh his ass off if I attempted to hit him with it.

  “Name’s Damien. Anstice sent me.”

  Should’ve known. He looked like one of Keir’s friends. Actually, come to think of it, so did Balen. A thumping pain hit my head and I put my hands over my ears and groaned. “Shit.” I pointed my finger at the door. “Get . . . Out.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell and dialed.

  I could hear it ringing and ringing until finally I heard a soft, groggy voice. “Speak to your friend,” he said and abruptly thrust the phone in my direction. I yanked it from him and he continued to glare at me.

  “I don’t want to talk to you. And how the hell did you know I wasn’t feeling well? More secrets?”

  “I tried calling and texting you a thousand times and you didn’t answer,” Anstice replied. “Damien was over your way, so I asked him to stop by the gallery. I told him where the key was hidden because I was worried.”