FALL (The Senses) (12 page)

His feet
shifted the tiniest amount and she might not have noticed if it wasn’t for the
moonlight catching the shiny surface of his combat boots as it filtered through
the spaces between the cottage window frame and the planked wall. He remained
stoic in his silence, his eyes watching as she finished dressing. She tried to
act casual, but under his stare her skin sizzled.

“Don’t
do it again,” he repeated with finality.

She
rolled her eyes, imaging him sitting on a throne, his fist slamming down on the
wooden arm. Control was his middle name. “Is that in the Senses law book? No
Senses may harm themselves? I must have skipped that part. God, what will
happen to me? Exile or, perhaps, death? Or do I get leniency because I didn’t
know that law? Or maybe Tarek trying to kill me is my punishment? Is that my—”

He was
on her in one second flat, his hand grabbing the back of her neck. “Stop. Never
say that again. Ever. You are not responsible for what he did.”

Wasn’t
she? She’d ignored the signs. She let him use her as a punching bag. “Let me
go, Pez.”

She felt
a slight twitch in his fingers when she used her nickname for him and realized,
for the first time, that it bothered him.

He
dropped his hand and stepped back. “You are not going back,” Waleron raised his
voice. She knew he’d never hurt her physically, but still his anger raised a
hint of fear. It was a reminder of what volatile emotions could do to a person.
“Pack your things, Delara. We are leaving for Spain.”

Spain?
What the hell? Taking a step back, she reached behind her and latched onto the
ledge of a drawer in the dresser as if it could stop him from moving her. “Not
happening, Pez.”

 “You
will go to Spain.” His jaw tightened. “I won’t have you anywhere near him.”

Her
teeth slammed together with frustration. “If Tarek wants to find me, he will.
Spain or the goddamn Swiss Alps. It doesn’t matter.” Oh god, why Spain? Did he
know? No, Spain would be the last place he’d send her if he knew.

His hand
reached for his right pant pocket and she knew before he even pulled it out
that it was his red duck head Pez dispenser. He ate his pills like candy. A
click sounded and a tiny, circular, light green tablet dispensed, which he
promptly popped into his mouth. She often wondered what he’d do without the
damn stuff—what he’d be like and how he’d manage. Most of all, if he’d go back
to being the man she’d fallen in love with. Would he really go over the edge
like he said he would? Would the darkness descend over him completely? Would
she still love him more than anything in this entire world?

“I have
to stop running.”

“Yes,”
he said. “You do, but now is not the time. Pack your bags, Delara.”

She
hesitated, musing over her words that would either convince him or have him
throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her off to Spain, Xamien’s Talde.
She wondered if Xamien knew. Regardless, no way in hell was she being packaged
up and carted off without facing Tarek first. “You’ll kill a part of me that
will be unsalvageable unless I face him again. I’m a Senses, Pez. Born and trained
as one. If I don’t stand up for myself then what do I have left? Would you run?
Have you hidden from Jasmine?” She wanted to throw something at his head and
destroy his emotionless façade, but she had managed to garner a slight flinch
when she’d said the Lilac’s name. She’d noticed the way his muscles in his
forearms tightened and how he blinked twice.

He stood
with his feet planted, arms at his sides, and hands curled into fists. Most
would think he was being indifferent, but she knew better. Right now, he was
fighting for self-control. Just watching the subtle uncoiling of his snake Scar
was enough for her to know exactly what he was contemplating. He had demons of
his own that ruled his actions. He knew why she was asking about the Lilac,
understood because he had suffered more than all the Senses had. He just hid it
better.

With his
voice a calm, deep tone like that of a summer wind sweeping across the land he
said, “Delara, what you ask is beyond my capability. I lived what happened to
you, too. I felt your pain, saw what he did and never can I allow that to
happen again. Never.” He began to pace the room, something he never did,
glancing up at her occasionally as if to make certain she was still there. “I
cannot allow this. I gave my oath to protect the Senses. An oath to protect
you, Maitagarri. This is what must be done.”

“What
are you going to do, tie me up and throw me on a plane? Because I won’t
willingly Trace with you.” And that meant he couldn’t Trace her there. She had
to be willing; it was a law. Xamien sure would be in for one hell of a surprise
if she showed up in Spain.

“If I
have to,” Waleron replied without missing a beat.

“Maybe
it would be easier if you just beat the shit out of me like Tarek did, but this
time you better finish the job because I’m not going to Spain.”

He
stopped pacing, his skin tone fading to the color of her stark white bed
sheets, while his hand ran across the top of his head. Okay, that was cruel,
she realized. Why did she always want to hurt him? Because she wanted him to
leave her alone, to walk away and stop protecting her. Nevertheless, he
couldn’t. As Taldeburu his oath was to protect the Senses.

The
problem was that they were tied together and it was killing them both. They had
to release one another from the bonds that connected them, but the question was
how
when it was already too late to be free.

“You
refused me when I needed you after Tarek—your choice. Yours. You fucked me then
walked away with me carrying your child. Twenty years you refuse to let me go
completely. It can’t continue, Pez.” Weary from this repetitive fight, she
sighed. A drop of water fell from a strand of her hair and landed on her cheek
below her left eye. “Pez, this… Whatever is between us has to end. I’m tired.”
She bowed her head. Even saying the words exhausted her. “I can’t do it
anymore. I want someone to love, who loves me in return. I want to end this
part of my life. Tarek. You.” She paused. “Yeah, I put you both in the same
category. Tarek may have beaten me physically, but those wounds healed. Your
wounds don’t. You...you destroyed my heart. You reeled me in then cast me aside
after sixty-one years of grieving your death. But, we’ve been through this
haven’t we?” She shook her head back and forth, then with an air of courage
raised her head and met his penetrating eyes. “You think you’ll hurt me with
that bloody Scar. You know what I think? I think that you hide behind those
little pills afraid that if you let them go, you will fall. Fall hard into your
emotions and then everyone will see you feel. You’re afraid. Afraid to deal
with your Scar, to deal with the emotions linked to Jasmine. You don’t want
anyone to see you fail because that might just happen if you
try
.” Once
he’d told her he’d
try
. It was that day in the Realm when he’d found out
she was sleeping with the Wraith Edan. She’d known it was Waleron’s way to get
her away from Edan. He didn’t want her, but he also didn’t like her with anyone
else. Well, he couldn’t have it both ways. “So, you can say you’ll
try
all you want, but I know more than anyone that it’s impossible. I can’t...no, I
won’t settle for
try
because that is beyond my capability.”

Waleron’s
intricate tattoo slithered, creeping up to his left ear and then down again to
curl around his neck as if it were going to strangle him. Its eyes changed from
black to red. She’d seen it move before, but never like this. Waleron’s neck
corded with strained tension and he ran a finger over part of the tattoo. It
hissed as if objecting to his soothing touch, but slid back in place.

His
voice, colder than she’d ever heard it before, leaked into her veins like ice
water making her shiver and she briefly rubbed her arms. “If I stop the pills I
will destroy you and God knows who else. I cannot take that risk. I will not.”

She
wanted to stomp her foot and throw a tantrum, but settled for an unladylike
grunt. “God, don’t you get it? How many times do I have to tell you? You`ve
already destroyed me, damn it.” She turned away, frustrated, and began
smoothing down the already immaculate bed comforter, which was a bad idea when
Waleron’s image popped into her min—lying on the bed, naked and glorious. She
hastily straightened, keeping her back to him, busying her hands by rearranging
the placement of her necklace and several books sitting on her dresser. “I’m
coming to Toronto in two days. I won’t hide.” She tried to put irrevocability
in her tone, hoping he’d let her win, but knowing better.

His
footsteps were quiet as he came up behind her. She closed her eyes and tensed,
knowing what was coming and yet unable to do anything but stand there. He
placed his arms around her waist and pulled her back into the solid warmth of
his chest. At one time, she used to put her hands on top of his, link them together,
and then tilt her head back so she could rest it on his shoulder while he
caressed her neck with his mouth. That was before Jasmine, before Tarek, before
the pills.

His
breath wafted across her neck as he leaned into her and placed his lips to her ear.
“Delara,” he whispered. “Do not fight me on this.”

She
smothered the sob threatening to emerge and instead slammed her fist into her
thigh and hissed with pain.

Waleron
grabbed her hand before she could do it again and locked it to her side.

“Please.
Please don’t,” she begged. She couldn’t endure falling into his arms only to
have him coldly walk away again.

“I never
meant to hurt you, Maitagarri,” he murmured. His lips trailed blazes of heat
along the curve of her neck while his arms, ever protective, encompassed her
body like a cocoon.

“I don’t
want this,” she said, although it was a lie. She wanted him to be with her
forever.

His
words whispered into her ear. “You do,” he said. “We both do.”

He was
right and she hated it, but the reality was that they were talking about
different things. She wanted his love and his body was all he could give.

“You are
going to Xamien’s Talde,” he said in that steady, unaffected voice and then
released her.

She
pivoted and without a single hesitation, punched him in the jaw.

He
grunted, but remained unmoving except to open and close his mouth three times
as if to make certain it wasn’t dislocated.

If he
forced the issue, she’d escape and forgo going home to find Tarek on her own.
She suspected Waleron would find her regardless, so she’d merely have to be
ready for him. She used her ace card. “I will run. You won’t see me again.” He
knew damn well she could do it. She had many times before and was pretty good
at disappearing.

His jaw
clenched and unclenched several times as if trying to unlock it. Finally, he
said, “If he so much as appears in the same neighborhood—” He paused as if
needing a moment to keep his own voice contained. “I will forcibly remove you
to Europe and send Tarek to his grave. Is that clear?”

Delara
nodded. Yeah, she expected as much. Tarek was on everyone’s shit list and
knowing her best friend Jedrik, he’d be sticking to her like glue when she went
back to Toronto. “And you will come to the Talde house, not Danielle’s
gallery.”

“What?”
Delara asked. The apartment above Danielle’s art gallery was where she always
stayed. It was private, away from the other Senses in her Talde. She needed
distance from them, a place where she could be alone. She didn’t care to admit
it was because she could cut there. Waleron of all people should understand; he
lived alone. No one even knew where his home was.

“This is
my only compromise.” He tossed her knife onto the end of the bed and walked to
the door.

“Fuck
you!” Delara picked up her mud-encrusted boot and flung it at his head sending
dried flakes of swamp mud in every direction.

He
raised his right hand and before the boot reached him, it stopped in midair and
dropped to the floor with a loud thud. “Bandage your leg.”

She
growled and he closed the shack door behind him.

Chapter
2

Tarek Rises in 24 hours

Delara
was still fuming at having her shack compromised by Waleron. Actually, it
wasn’t that. It was more how Waleron found her. Him seeing her greatest
weakness was like a shot in the gut and then some.

She flew
back to Toronto via West Jet, arriving at Pearson airport at four o’clock in
the afternoon. She hadn’t expected anyone to meet her since she hadn’t
contacted anyone.

“Sassy!
Over here.”

Delara
raised her brows, surprised to see Jedrik striding towards her, his blond
playful curls dancing around his ears. Waleron must have told Jedrik she was
flying back today.

Jedrik
wore a pair of worn blue jeans and a dashing black canvas coat while sporting
his usual cocky grin. Without hesitation, he picked her up and swung her
around, planting a kiss on both cheeks.

“Public
displays of affection are against the law in some countries,” Delara said.
Jedrik had no qualms about displaying anything, least of all his charisma. He
set her down and she ruffled his hair. “Good to see you too, Arrow.”