She nodded. Carefully, she climbed to her feet, bringing the sheet with her and pulling it up in front of her like a shield.
“You can call me Kilter.” I chin-lifted to the bowl of soup on the nightstand and the plate of fruit. “I made soup earlier. It’ll be cold by now. Eat the fruit.”
She watched me, her fingers on her throat as if waiting for me to finish what her husband started. I couldn’t blame her. Shit, her husband had obviously abused her, how bad I had no idea, but by the look in her eyes, it was bad. I wanted to rip the pompous-ass into a thousand pieces and feed him to a horde of vampires.
I was uncertain if she took in anything I said, because her lips quivered and tears pooled in her eyes. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she said.
“Yeah, babe, you are. I see the tears. Why?”
She shook her head, eyes on the floor to hide the tears, and hair falling forward on either side of her face.
“Why?”
She hesitated before saying, “You.”
“Me?” Really, I shouldn’t be surprised. I just scared the shit out of her.
“You risked your life for me,” she offered in a quiet voice. “You helped me. No one has done that before.”
Her words slammed into me. Fuck.
I sat on the edge of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees, head bowed. No one had helped her before. Jesus. I got that. Lived it.
After a few minutes of silence, she said, “Is he really dead?”
At the sound of her voice, my heart skipped a beat then settled back down to a steady rhythm. I nodded. “Yeah, babe. Made sure of it. Can’t live after a knife wound like that.”
I felt her response to my words. I fuckin’ felt it. I shouldn’t be able to feel her overwhelming relief, but I did. A Scar Reflector was able to take in others’ emotions, but I wasn’t a Reflector. I was a Visionary.
What the hell? My heart pounded and chest tightened. I had to get the fuck out of here.
I stood and headed for the door. “Take a shower. You’re filthy. Clothes are on the counter.”
I shut the door harder than necessary because I was reeling from whatever the hell that was between us.
I blocked others’ thoughts from my mind and refused to let anyone into mine, but her, she just filtered into me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the connection, and I didn’t like how I had no idea what that shit was about.
I hesitated outside her door until I heard the shower turn on, then grabbed the sheets from the closet and made the bed in the guest room. It was too late when we arrived last night, so I’d put her in my bedroom and crashed in the chair while listening to her breathe.
I used the guest bathroom to shower and re-dress my shoulder. When I came back to my room, I expected her to be done—she wasn’t.
I walked over to the bathroom and knocked. “Babe?”
No answer, but the shower was going and steam seeped out from under the door.
I tried the door handle—locked.
I knocked again. “Rayne?” It had been twenty-five minutes, no way she could still be showering. “Open the fuckin’ door.”
I tried to unlock it using my mind—and normally it would take me two seconds—but with my lack of sleep over the last three weeks and my wounded shoulder, my abilities had shut down.
I slammed my good shoulder into the door and it groaned under the pressure. I drew back and did it again, harder. The wood frame around the lock splintered as the door flung open.
A wave of heated fog blanketed me. “What the hell?” It was so dense, I couldn’t see my own hand in front of me. I grabbed a towel off the hook on the back of the door, strode to the shower, and opened the door.
What I saw—it gutted me. I didn’t get fuckin’ gutted, but this… her, curled into herself on the tiled floor against the wall like she’d been when I found her, knees bent, face hidden in them, it was chaos inside me.
I walked in to the shower, the water soaking my jeans and T-shirt, and turned the knobs to shut off the water. Then I turned, crouched in front of her, and draped the towel over her naked, trembling body.
How could anyone break a girl so badly that she ended up like this?
“Rayne, look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Babe.”
The tips of her fingers holding the towel whitened as she clutched it against her. I reached forward, cupped her chin, and with a little pressure, urged her to look at me.
Her long, black lashes flickered before she glanced up, and I almost fell back on my ass when I saw her expression. It was a haunting desperation within her glazed, tear-filled eyes.
“Ah, fuck,” I muttered.
Lost. She looked so fuckin’ lost.
I knew about mistrust, about being lost and alone. But rage had filled me. It drove me, consumed me. Consumed all the pain and hurt and betrayal.
The one man in this chick’s life, who was supposed to protect her, destroyed her.
My jaw clenched and every muscle tensed. If I had the chance, I’d spin back time, draw and quarter her husband, and then release my Ink on his ass.
I was so not good at this nice shit, but this chick needed a shitload of it. “You don’t know me, babe. Sure as hell don’t trust me, and I don’t expect you to. But I’ll give it to you straight, whether you like it or not. Always.”
She licked a drop of water off her lower lip, but didn’t say anything.
“I fucked up before, that’s on me, and you won’t easily trust me. I get that. But you need something. Anything—ask me. Okay?”