Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)

And I’d enjoy hurting him.

My grip tightened on the handle of the knife as I jabbed it as hard as I could backward into his thigh. The second it hit flesh, it was like plunging into a sponge. It jerked to a stop when it hit bone and jarred my hand.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he screamed, then looped his arm around my neck while his other hand knocked the knife from my grip, yanked the blade from his thigh and tossed it to the floor.

“Let her go, dickhead.” The Scar stood several feet away, gun pointed at us.

The cool hard metal of Ben’s gun came to my temple. He cocked it. “How about you drop it before I put a bullet through her skull.”

The Scar laughed, but it wasn’t a good laugh. It was rough with a harsh tone that sent shivers down my spine.

“You won’t kill her.” His dark brows flicked up and he smirked at Ben. “Her husband will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat if you do. And despite wanting to see that, I’d advise letting her go before I kill her myself.” He readjusted his aim from Ben to me. “I live. She dies. Then her husband tortures you. Seems fair enough.”





“JUST ONE TASTE, SWEETNESS. That’s all I ask. A drop to ease my suffering.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Your self-control is that of an ant at a picnic. One taste and you’ll be back for more, and I’ll become a dried-up piece of beef jerky.”

One taste and I’d be breaking the Scars’ law—thou shall not willingly allow a vampire to drink thy blood. Vice versa was a bigger no-no. Balen knew that first-hand.

Actually, sleeping with the enemy was not much better, but it wasn’t breaking any laws.

“Mmmm, I like beef jerky,” Liam said as he slid his hand down my inner thigh and back up again. “And I like you.”

He liked that I was a Scar and against the rules. Blood—my nickname for Liam—might have a truce with the Scars, but he was a vampire and could never be trusted. I was here because he couldn’t be trusted and it was a good way to keep a close eye on him.

“A lot,” he continued, while his fingers trailed to where just minutes ago he’d thrust with furious passion.

Shit, I needed to get out of here before he coerced me into staying another five hours in bed.

“Stay the night,” he said, lowering his lips to my neck, his velvet tongue sweeping across my heated skin.

So not happening. Staying the night spelled ‘Relationship’ in big, bold letters. And this was far from any sort of relationship.

I caught his wrist and pulled it away from between my legs. “Can’t. Have CWOs to hunt. Short-staffed tonight and it’ll be noticed if I don’t report in.”

The Center World Others were being assholes lately, and the news reported numerous gravesites that were missing bodies. Bodies CWOs used when whichever bug they descended from crawled up from the core of the Earth and stole it in order to walk among us like humans.

But they weren’t humans; they were bugs. Parasites that enjoyed killing people.

“To Waleron?” He raised his thin, dark brows as he leaned over me.

He had magnetic eyes—brilliant charcoal gray that curved downward in the outer corners, like a sad puppy dog in a window. Deceptive as hell. And irresistible when accompanied with his charm and experienced hands.

I’d been hanging out at his club, a place no Scar was welcome until Liam and I hooked up, so it gave us an in. There’d also been a young witch there recently and Liam had taken an interest in her. Witches were on our side, so that wasn’t a good thing.

“The man you can’t let go of,” Liam drawled.

Maybe true, but coming from a vampire’s mouth, it pissed me off. “Fuck off, Blood.” I threw back the sheet and coldness sank into my bones. “And turn up the heat next time I come over.”

He grabbed my hand before I managed to climb out of bed.

He was strong, a benefit of the vampires, but as a Scar, I was a match for him, although I pretended not to be. Liam was an arrogant bastard and he wouldn’t like a woman being able to beat him at anything.

“Hands off. I need to go.”

The corner of his lips curved upward and the flash of battle flared in his eyes. Crap, he was eager for a fight, and I didn’t have time for his bull.

“He has you wrapped around his little finger. A whisper of a word from him and you come running. I beg you to come to me more often, and you wave me off like a pesky fly.”

“He’s my Taldeburu.” And Waleron was an Ancient and one of the most powerful Scars in the world. You tried not to fuck with him, although I failed because I naturally pissed him off. “And don’t put pressure on what’s between us. Sex. No strings. That’s all I will ever give. You knew this from the beginning.”