Lies & Devotion: Blood & Iron Warriors, #3

By Kat Kenyon

Rayne:
I'm flying apart at the seams. I want to be back to who I was, but everyone keeps trying to pull me apart. Tyler's the only thing holding me together, but he shouldn't have to. I have to find my feet again. And I will. I just don't know how.

Tyler:
I listened to the school. My coaches. My therapist. Let my dad get in my head. Every time I listen to anything other than my heart, Rayne gets hurt. So now, the thumping in my chest that says, protect her, is the only thing leading me. Now when the system lines up against us, I'll defend her. I just don't know how.

Love puts everyone through the fire of chaos. Some burn away, and others are tempered over and over into the strongest steel. How hot is the fire Rayne and Tyler will have to fight to come out the other side?




High-steam romance series about the same couple. For 18+
For TW see website.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kat Kenyon
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781732970175

Book preview

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Blood and Iron Entertainment, LLC

12421 Pearl Road #1079

Strongsville, OH 44136

United States

www.KatKenyon.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places, are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2020 by Katrina Kenyon

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America

No AI was used in the production of any part of this book. Nor may any part of this book or cover be used for training any AI project.

Second Edition, 2021

ISBN 978-1-7329701-6-8

ISBN 978-1-7329701-7-5ebook

Editing by: Karen Lawson

Proofing by: Marla Selkow Esposito

Cover by: MadChat Design

Formatting by: Cherie Varian

Logo by: Shanoff Designs

Photography by: Shelly Duncan Photography

Publisher: Blood and Iron Entertainment, LL

Contents

Preface

Dedication

Chapter

END OF JANUARY

1.Rayne Mathews

2.Tyler Blackman

February

3.Tyler Blackman

4.Rayne Mathews

5.Tyler Blackman

6.Rayne Mathews

7.Tyler Blackman

8.Rayne Mathews

9.Tyler Blackman

10.Rayne Mathews

11.Tyler Blackman

12.Rayne Mathews

13.Tyler Blackman

14.Rayne Mathews

15.Tyler Blackman

16.Rayne Mathews

17.Tyler Blackman

18.Rayne Mathews

19.Tyler Blackman

20.Rayne Mathews

21.Tyler Blackman

22.Rayne Mathews

23.Tyler Blackman

24.Rayne Mathews

25.Tyler Blackman

26.Rayne Mathews

27.Tyler Blackman

28.Rayne Mathews

29.Tyler Blackman

30.Rayne Mathews

31.Tyler Blackman

32.Rayne Mathews

33.Tyler Blackman

March

34.Rayne Mathews

35.Tyler Blackman

36.Rayne Mathews

37.Tyler Blackman

Preview

Afterword

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Preface

The beginning is easy to fall into and the end always pulls us up but the muddy middle often drags us down. But that’s what makes it real. That’s life. Things that drag us down are what make us stronger. They become our power.

Please be aware that this book contains adult content suitable for people over eighteen. There are topics such as abuse, violence, sex, and high-stress situations in this book.

This is Book 3 in a planned series about the same couple that will continue throughout their college experience. I write in chronological order however, so the next planned book in this series will be about Dylan McVey.

Dedication

This book is for those who have been betrayed by the system. To those who have been abused by those who should have protected them. To those who haven’t been believed because it seemed unbelievable.

I believe.

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Chapter one

Rayne Mathews

The rhythmic pounding of my feet on the treadmill doesn’t stop when the sound of the TV invades my headphones. I don’t know why I left it on when the news broadcast started, except I’m a glutton for punishment. Even with my music booming, all I hear is the parrot on-screen, detailing police efforts to hunt down All-American heartthrob, Gabriel Stevens in connection with an ongoing investigation.

Sweat may run down my spine, but it’s not the run or the pain in my ribs that make it hard to breathe; it’s the image of his face compared to my beaten one that they flash casually on the screen, asking who the audience believes, the broken girl from a bad home or the perfect boy from a good one? They don’t connect the broken face to the boy, they just ask which is better, perfect or broken?

We all know which we’d pick.

For the first week, the police were able to keep the situation quiet. My name was hidden as a courtesy paid to assault victims, but that ended after a paparazzo found us at the beach house we’d been renting. Then it was a full blitz. He got his pictures, and the tabloid rags began printing my name and battered face with stories that have run the gamut from close to the truth to total fantasy.

Being at the beach let me zone out, but I lost that freedom. The next day, we moved into this secured complex with a new security team used by political dignitaries and A-list stars, along with a new sense of being at war.

They’re here, Tyler calls from the living room, breaking through the news and the music I no longer hear.

Closing my eyes against the prospect of seeing anyone, I force myself to stop the machine. Okay, I yell back, looking down.

The red numbers on the display mock me. Little red bars indicate my race to nowhere, accomplishing nothing, but I want to keep running. Anything to avoid talking. Better to be running even with my injuries still healing, or dancing where no one can see me, then expel the tears sitting just below the surface, threatening to drown me. At least it helps exhaust my body so it’ll shut down and stop my mind from fighting a war it can’t win.

Unfortunately, I’m not tired enough to make a dent yet, so my ribs hurt for nothing. My head drops forward, hanging with the lack of air. When I glance up, Tyler’s leaning against the jamb, watching me. His arms are folded against his chest, hip resting against the frame. His casual pose belies the stress he’s under and even with the soft neutral smile he sends my way, his worry shows through.

Stepping off the belt, I quickly wipe down the machine and walk toward him. His head tilts down as I get close, but he doesn’t reach out; instead, he lets me choose how close we get.

Let me get cleaned up, I say, trying to return his smile. The bruises and damage still painting my face and body scream the lie, and yet I try. He deserves something from me. But a smile isn’t just a simple contraction of muscles. It’s supposed to represent joy or provide reassurance, and I don’t have those to give. The simple stretching of my lips pulls my soul apart.

As usual, he doesn’t push. Don’t rush. Inhaling the nasty mop on my head, he drops a soft kiss. It’s just the whisper of his lips, but I press into it. His soft touches are the only things allowing me to feel something, anything, beyond the pain.

My fingers drift across his waist as I pass, letting him know I appreciate him, before I head toward our room. Tyler silently follows, walking past me into the bathroom. He doesn’t ask, he just seems to know what I need, leaving me alone to kick off my runners and sticky clothing. The faucet starts with the sound of a cabinet opening and closing, followed by the clear sound of bath salts being poured.

He’s the one thing I’m sure of, and as soon as the evidence of my interrupted run is tossed in the hamper, I walk into the bathroom where the smell of lavender slowly fills the space. Standing over the tub, carefully waving his hand through the water to make the salts dissolve, my boyfriend adds another string to the ties that bind us. Because I’m tethered to him in some irrevocable way, and it seems so unfair to him it makes me want to cry.

He’s making sure I don’t fall, keeping me grounded so I don’t slip away into the nothing I crave. He makes sure I eat, take my medication, get out of bed—he never forces me, instead, he slides moments of life between my bouts of internal static. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. Even though they’re always soft, always open…they’re never gold.

Giving his arm a quick squeeze, I sit on the lip of the bathtub, stroking my fingertips through the six inches he’s put in. The water looks more substantial than it is because he’s added bubbles to the salts, but even this is almost too much to handle.

You can do this.

Take as much time as you need, baby. Giving me another kiss on the top of my head, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Focusing on the feel of my muscles, I try to think of anything that’ll distract me from how it feels like the water will drown me. As my toe slips in, I think of silly movies, cartoons…anime. I play scenes in my head, hoping it’ll take my mind off of how the dirt soaks further into my skin each time I touch water.

The sound of people drifts through two closed doors, letting me know our friends are here for the first time since it happened. The scenes in my head shift to the stares that’ll come if I walk out there. Eyes on me, on the bruises, the cuts, the filth. My chest locks and I feel like I can’t breathe. Slipping down, the water rises around my face and I nearly explode out of my skin as I snap upright.

I know they’ve been asking for me, but—

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Pouring a ton of shampoo into my palm, I dig into my scalp and remind myself that my friends would never be that cruel. The people in the living room care about me, but I don’t want to see them.

I’m a terrible friend.

Being around people makes me feel like I’m dying. My heart races, my skin gets clammy, and there’s no air. It doesn’t matter how well-meaning they are. Anyone who comes too close makes me lose grip on my thin thread of control. Tyler’s the only one who doesn’t make me spin out, and since the beach house, he’s made sure no one gets close enough to scare me.

He moved us to an apartment with three layers of its own security and a panic room, plus Vindex Security and Investigation are the best money can hire in the world.

Vindex is run by two former Marines, Neil Dean and Sam Cruz. They’ve taken personal responsibility for my physical safety and the ongoing hunt for Gabe. They make sure at least two people are on me at all times, with extra for the building and Tyler.

The men from the first company made me nervous, but Vindex doesn’t. Their teams let me know where they’ll be so they don’t startle me, and they try as hard as they can not to touch me or come too close, knowing it makes my skin crawl.

They care if I’m scared.

They’re my Shadows. Peter Pan had a shadow that ran away, but mine stick to me no matter what, protecting my body like Tyler protects my sanity.

An image of Neil, with his black beard and tattoos dressed as Peter Pan gives me a moment of amusement before I force myself to rinse my hair out under the faucet. Tyler’s laughter drifts in again and it sounds good. Really good, actually.

Tyler hasn’t laughed in forever, or at least that’s what it feels like, and I’m relieved that our friends are here for his sake. When I hear him get something from our room, I hold my breath, hoping he’ll go back out and have fun because he deserves it.

Don’t we all get what we deserve?

Choking, I try to imagine my bodyguards chasing Peter Pan and failing to catch the boy who never grows up.

I’m drowning. Abandoned to die.

What I deserve?

Gasping from the black thought, I scramble out of the tub, dragging myself away from the memories, heart pounding. The struggle to get my lungs to work saps what energy I have left, hacksawed breaths burning their way in and out as I stumble to our bed. Collapsing at the foot, I slide down, resting my head against the soft cotton.

When Tyler comes in twenty minutes later, I’m huddled on the floor, the air-conditioning freezing my bare skin. I haven’t been able to move from the floor to the closet for clothes.

You okay? His voice is light, but fear darkens his face as he looks down, making me cringe at having him see me this way again when he’s trying so hard to make things normal for me.

Tyler… My voice cracks as he picks me up from the floor and puts me on the edge of the bed.

Disappearing into the bathroom, he comes back a moment later with a towel. Wrapping my hair, he puts me to bed, pulling the blankets over me.

Baby, you don’t have to do shit, he says softly, sitting beside me, fingers barely stroking my skin, his eyes never breaking from mine.

My voice is hoarse when I try to talk, I know you want—

His eyes soften even further as he cuts me off. Rayne, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything. Not for me. I’m fine. Dropping a soft kiss on my forehead, he stands, saying, And they’ll still be your friends when you’re ready. Until then, let me deal with it.

He means it. He’s militantly protective and I know he’ll do anything for me, but it’s not okay. He takes care of everything and gets nothing. He just gives, just accepts. And I let him. He’s struggling and I feel horrible, but I nod and close my eyes.

I miss my friends. I miss my life.

I miss me.

Chapter two

Tyler Blackman

Even as the elevator closes on Mike and the sound of the guys laughing and joking disappears, I know I’m not bringing them back anytime soon. While it was good to see everyone, she isn’t ready.

The bruises and ribs will heal, but the fractures underneath are as deep as the San Andreas and just as unstable. I didn’t break her this time, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Nodding at Sam at the end of the hall, I wait for the monolith to speak into the mic in his ear. I don’t close the door until he gives me the sign everyone’s gone and he returns to his silent watchfulness, leaving me confident I don’t have to sit in front of the door with a shotgun laid across my lap all night.

After the last security team allowed a journalist to get onto the beach house’s property, I fired them, and within three hours, Neil and Sam were there introducing themselves.

She’d freaked when that camera flashed in her face and didn’t speak for an hour. I was scared for a moment it was permanent, but these terrifying Marines made her feel safe. Holding my hand, she trusted me when I trusted them, and she began calling them her Shadows the next day.

I lock the door and clean up, making sure snacks and drinks get dumped in the trash before I flip off the light and head to the bedroom.

The carpet is thick under my feet, my toes sinking into the plush gray pile, and as quiet as I can, I open the door, hoping I don’t wake her. I put her to bed two hours ago, and I’m praying she’s still there, still asleep. There’s always the chance she’s slipped into the other room to try to run herself into a coma. It doesn’t work, but she does it again and again.

Better that than her staring at the wall trying not to break.

Closing my eyes, my forehead falls to the door. Breathing in as much calm as I can, I push into the quiet. The crystal lamp casts a soft glow, decorating the room in splashes of color. And curled up in the bed, looking small and vulnerable, is my girl.

Her hair is still wrapped in the towel, and her delicate white skin stands out in the light, soft blue veins making a subtle map on her neck and hands. Even in her sleep, she’s tortured, brows drawn, a twitch flickering in the corner of her eye. She’s always been tiny, but she feels it now, as she grips the blanket like it can protect her.

I take a step. Then another. My footfalls take me into the small bubble I’ve been able to create for her. Each one bringing me closer to her body, but I don’t know how to get closer to her heart, which is all I want to do. If I had a solution, no matter how hard it was, I’d do it for her. But I’ve got nothing…except that I love her and I’ll do anything to protect her.

Another step with no clue.

She whimpers and I know if she wakes up, she won’t go back to sleep. Whipping off my shirt, I pad to her side of the bed where she’s curled in on herself. This is the one thing I know to do. It’s the same thing she’s needed every day since I carried her out of the rain. My sweats hit the floor and I turn off her light, sliding in bed behind her.

When my skin brushes her, she startles, and every word of love and protection I can think of comes out as I wrap my arms around her. My words whisper across her skin…and her hands relax ever so slightly.

A slight stutter in her breathing tells me she’s awake the moment before she twists her body to face me. Beautiful blue eyes stare into mine and the clear recognition she’s not alone flickers. Her eyelids shutter again, hands flexing on my pecs for a moment before her hands slip around me.

I’m thrilled when her breathing evens out, letting me know she’s asleep again. Until she coils around me. The sensation of her skin on mine is like a drug to an addict, and I’ve been without a hit for so long. It’s messed up and guilt makes me freeze. No matter how much I tell my body it shouldn’t, it wants her, and the feel of her moving terrifies me.

Trying to fight it off, I count prime numbers in my head. I work through the hardest equations from class, willing my body to get with the program. If she wakes and I scare her, I’ll never forgive myself. It’s all about her.

One night at a time.

Kissing the top of her head, I wish her a night of sleep.

I hope she sleeps in peace.

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Chapter three

Tyler Blackman

Well, we can get through this shit and head to campus around ten. Rayne smiles a little as she waves at our statistic’s homework on the table. My sweatshirt swamps her small frame over snug jeans, and even though her hair’s in one of those weird girl-knots on top of her head, she looks beautiful.

Another week has gone by and she’s started back to a few classes. It’s only her dance classes and our stats class, but it’s a big deal. The dance classes help her vent, and she feels safe in statistics because I’m with her. She’s also catching up online with the rest of her classes, and fortunately the school isn’t arguing with her. And they’d better not. She’s still got bruises and that’s on them.

Her skin’s mottled, the bone deep bruising taking a long time to heal. Her ribs are still cracked, the cuts on her back from the alley’s broken glass are still mending, and the finger he broke won’t heal for several more weeks.

She’s so fucking strong.

She’s running and dancing even though it brings tears to her eyes and she can’t laugh without pain. Technically, she shouldn’t be doing any of it. Not dancing, not running, but she won’t listen. Every follow-up doctor appointment, and every shot they give her to make sure she doesn’t get sick from what that fuck did, sends her right back to physical absolution. She welcomes the pain as if she relishes abusing herself.

It pisses me off.

So, I’m celebrate even tiny smiles. Every brief ray of sunshine that touches her, I try to magnify.

Baby, whatever you want. I lean back in the dining room chair and grin at her, encouraging the almost positive attitude she’s had since we woke up. After class I have some game film I have to watch. Coach has a stack of stuff for me to review, I just need to pick it up.

Sounds good. Who’s with us? She grabs the assignment we’ve been messing with, staring at hers for a moment before she shoves it in a folder.

Neil’s on point today.

She gives me a quick nod and breathes out, Okay. Her voice is stronger than it’s been in a while. As long as a Shadow is with me when you go to Dixon.

Always. I give the back of her hand a soft stroke.

She flips her hand over and squeezes mine. I’m glad she’s calm because I don’t know how she’ll take what I have to say next. Baby, we’re going to need to add a team member to the group. Neil wants to make sure you have round the clock coverage and his team needs more breaks.

New men, dangerous ones at that. The rise of her chest quickens, and a slight hiss slipping from her lips, are the only outward signs of struggle she shows before she sighs. I know.

She’s accepted the team we have, but after we went back to class last week, Vindex realized the job would take more manpower than expected. With them running her security, mine, and a manhunt, Neil and Sam need more people.

Neil said you can review them, I say.

I like the team I have. Her nose scrunches.

Shit’s still adorable, even in the middle of hell.

But you need more.

She finally lets go and rolls her eyes as she shoves her homework in her backpack, wordlessly saying all the things an annoyed girlfriend thinks. So much so, that I find myself chuckling at the silent cussing out she’s giving me, expecting to get smacked with her homework or mine.

Not that it’d change much. In most things, I’ll give her whatever she wants, but this one thing isn’t up for debate. The paparazzi have gotten out of control since the beach. They’ve chased us in the car, followed me on campus, and one actually took pictures of me in class. Not to mention the students who’ve harassed me for information and the online bullshit. She’s getting the best protection I can buy. Especially with him still out there.

I don’t know what he’d do right now if he got his hands on her and I don’t want to find out. Weeks and that fucker is still on the run. We know his dad has to be helping him because there’s no way he’s been evading the cops for a full month on his own. He knows he’s in deep shit and that makes him even more dangerous. Which means no one gets close to her.

She reads my face and sticks her tongue out. Get me a new Shadow, she mutters.

I love you, I tell her, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand. Her skin’s soft and warm; her pulsing heartbeat is the center of my life. I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect her.

I love you too. Her chest rises and falls with a wave of pain from her ribs. I’m sorry, Tyler, I just… Her eyelashes close, shuttering like a camera lens.

It hurts when she closes her eyes to me.

You never need to be sorry. Cupping her cheek, I try to send the truth through the invisible threads that bind us. "I have one job. Love you. And loving you right, includes making sure you’re safe. Her eyes get glassy as her body slumps. Unconsciously, my thumb finds the lips I get to kiss, yet miss desperately. Just focus on finding your feet, okay?"

Pressing gently against