I was uncertain what she was talking about or who Waleron was and why he’d have a say about anything.
Kilter pushed off the bedpost and took two steps toward me. “Come.”
When I rose, he took my hand and I followed him into the bathroom. He placed me in front of the mirror, him directly behind me. With a gentle caress of his fingertips, he swept my hair away from my neck.
God, the bruises were gone. I turned my head from side to side, and not a single reminder of Anton’s handprints remained on my neck. “Wow,” I whispered.
Kilter’s hands settled on my shoulders and he gently squeezed before slowly sliding them down my arms. “You trusted me.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. I had.
I stared at us in the mirror, Kilter close and towering over me. And me, small and fragile. His arms were muscled and strong with black ink and mine spindly, weak, and pale.
God, when had I become so pale?
I always hated the mirror, hated seeing myself. I still did, but this time, I didn’t see me staring back, I saw a lost, vacant girl standing in a man’s arms.
Kilter’s grip tightened and his brows lowered. “Babe, do you see how thin you are?”
My breath caught in my throat and I tensed. I hated talking about my weight. I hated everything it meant. I shoved my elbow into his ribs, pushing him back. Then I ran from the bathroom.
“Fuck.” I heard him mutter. “Rayne?”
Kilter followed me, but I threw open the bedroom door and took off.
I SLAMMED MY FIST into the doorframe. I fucked up. Of course, I fucked up. I’d read the damn book and knew she’d avoid talking about her weight, but it still pissed me off. I was a man of action, progress, and very little patience. Getting her to admit she had a problem was the first step.
According to the book, which I finished in under an hour—a Visionary bonus was being able to read in hyper-speed—if her body weight was twenty percent below average, which Rayne’s was, then she’d be a potential client for a rehabilitation center, if she even had an eating disorder.
I was no fuckin’ therapist, but her going to some rehab institution was not going to work for me. Rayne had been through hell in that compound, and she’d experienced and seen things regular people didn’t.
Her issues weren’t like others. Fuck the book.
I stormed through the house searching for her, because whatever this was with her, I needed answers and I was a persistent asshole.
I found her outside standing on the cobblestone path that weaved through the gardens. I watched from ten feet away as the light rain sprinkled her face. Drops slid down her forehead to her cheeks then dripped off her chin to soak into her sweatshirt.
Her eyes were closed and she tilted her face up toward the sky. As she licked the dampness from her lips with the tip of her tongue, there was the hint of a smile on her face. Fuck, she almost looked happy.
And, unfortunately, I was going to destroy that.
As I approached, her back stiffened a second before her eyes opened and our gazes collided.
I stopped in front of her, my eyes taking in her wet hair and damp skin. “You don’t mind the rain?”
“No,” she replied.
“Most chicks would be worried about ruining their hair.”
She turned and walked down the path. “I’m not most chicks.”
“Yeah, I got that.” And it wasn’t because she was sick; it was because there was something different in her. She was stronger than she let on, but it was like she’d given up. Her fight had been too long with no way out.
We walked in silence a few minutes, the sound of our feet splattering through the puddles, which had gathered along the path.
She rubbed her arms and I noticed goose bumps on her neck.
“You need a jacket. Why the hell would you come out here in the rain without a jacket?” It pissed me off that she wasn’t concerned for her own well-being. Not eating. Out here in the rain without a jacket. I might not give a shit about anyone, but at least I looked after myself.
A strand of wet hair latched onto her mouth and I raised my hand and gently pushed it aside with one finger.
What the hell was I doing? I didn’t do tender and sweet.
I snagged her wrist and brought her to a stop. “Babe, you need help. Don’t know shit about what’s going on, but right now, all I do know is you’re pale as fuck. Thin. Weak. And you barely eat.”
She pulled her arm free and kept walking. I bowed my head, took a deep breath and went after her. “Rayne, fuck, I want to help.” She ignored me as she continued down the path. “Jesus Christ, woman, you’re dying,” I finally exploded.
“I know,” she whispered, and they were the sweetest words I’d ever heard, because if she knew, then there was hope. Her steps slowed and her shoulders slumped. “I know something’s wrong. I shouldn’t feel this way all the time, but getting out of this is scarier than staying where I am.”