Hateful Desire

by Marianne Willis

  Had she dreamed of a huge white wedding with the dress, cake, and other crappy trimmings? He understood women fantasised about their big day, but he never considered her views on the matter. “Have you changed your mind? Because I must say, you’re a little too late.”

  She met his stare. “No. I made you a promise, and I’ve kept my word.”

  He did not possess the strength to look elsewhere, lost in her blue eyes. Her breath hitched when he followed the sexy line of her flat stomach, and cupped her breast. He cradled the heavy weight, a tad bigger than a handful, but all natural. Apple and pomegranate invaded him. He kissed the column of her neck. A sweet and tangy mix of sugar and salt met his tongue.

  Kneeling in front of her, he spread her legs, and for a long moment admired the delicate beauty between her thighs, pink, slick, ready. He lifted her off the mattress and close against him, kissing from one shoulder to the other. Her shaky breathing played like a melody to his senses.

  “Do you like my touch?” he asked, nipping her earlobe.

  “I do,” she whispered.

  “Spread your legs for me.” She did as requested, moaning in response. He stroked the silky smooth skin of her inner thigh, and her body gave a visible shudder. Toward her entrance, he traced, then back down, teasing, building her desire.

  “Chayton.” The cessation of her breath was evident when he neared her sex, and he swallowed, unsure who felt more tormented. He needed inside her, anticipated her warmth, her willingness. His penis twitched. Unable to wait a second longer, he surveyed her face, forestalling her reaction to his next move.

  He cupped her bottom with one hand, raised and guided two fingers beneath her slippery folds and into her heat. Groaning at the sample of her wetness, her inner walls squeezed him. With a soft cry, she grabbed a fistful of his hair, a delicate flush staining her cheeks.

  Slow and deliberate, he pumped. Her small whimpers thrummed in his ears. A tremor rocked her body, and he gripped her bottom to keep her steady.

  She chewed her lower lip, then her mouth parted with a gasp. “Chayton, I’m gonna...”

  He increased pace, driving her over the edge. Her back bowed, and he flattened his hand against her spine for support. With quick flicks of his thumb across her little nub, her cry echoed in the room. Breathless, she fell back, and he lowered, snaking his arms around her waist. She observed him, cheeks still coloured, azure eyes wild and feverish.

  Her chin tilted. “Kiss me.”

  “What?” The question rushed forth without thought, perhaps to stall. He couldn’t kiss her. Not like this. Not when his heart pounded so close to bursting out of his chest.

  “Kiss me,” she repeated. This time insistent, but a playful smile quirked her lips.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess her powers were still active because he was sure she placed him under a spell, and he craved nothing more than to submit to her wilful command. He ran the tip of his thumb across her lower lip. Fuller than usual, a result of her nibbles when he’d pleasured her. The pink plumpness increased the temptation to ravish her.

  Could he though, without opening himself? They were in a very intimate embrace as it was, and if he further engaged in the affection, he might unlock a whole new world of emotions. Was she worth the risk?

  Cold eyes and harsh threats rushed from the past to the present, imprinting itself clearly in his mind. He bit the side of his cheek. “I can’t.”

  Her smile dimmed. “What do you mean?”

  He brushed his thumb over her mouth once more. “I said no.” He lowered his face above her shoulder to avoid the confusion in her eyes. He thought a slither of satisfaction would consume him, knowing his rejection would insult her. For the first time in his life, the tables had turned, but he was not a cruel person by nature. Even though Amber Johnson offended him many times in the past, he didn’t aim for revenge. His dismissal was to protect himself.

  He scanned her outer thigh, and dragged her leg across his waist. Rotating his hips, he paused when the head of his cock nudged her wet opening. She sucked in a breath, and he entered in one quick thrust. Her arms tightened around his nape, face sinking into his shoulder, followed by a low moan that sent shudders into his skin.

  Lost in the unbelievable tightness, he pumped in and out. With her inner walls squeezing him, her soft moans muffled, he thrust faster, losing himself to the motions. Seeking more of her sensual heat, he arched, taking his length to the hilt.

  The sensation overwhelmed him. Dizziness clouded his mind, a slave to the bliss. Sweat trickled between them. He climbed higher, his body tightened, ready for release. He should be embarrassed, had never been this quick with other women. Then again, at no time had a woman delivered him to such heights so fast.

  His pelvis fell into a relentless rhythm, driving deeper with each quick motion. Eyes watered as the heated sensation amplified, he moaned. Unable to reflect on anything, save the ecstasy, he threw back his head, and shuddered with violent force. A loud moan strained his throat as he relished the release.

  He closed his eyes, whirled onto his back, and focussed on the ceiling. What the hell was that? Words failed when he attempted to describe the experience. Being inside her, one with her…he thought the pleasure would kill him.

  Amber stared into nothing, panting for breath.

  Maybe this would be an opportune time to explain his abrupt rejection.

  “It’s not you,” he lied. “Kissing during sex seems very intimate.” True, but he never had a problem doing so in the past. “It’s not something I do.”

  “But I’m your mate,” she said. Her voice was aloof, as though she stated a mere fact.

  “Yes. Even so, I can’t pretend we’re something we’re not.”

  She responded with a short nod. “You’re right.”

  He returned his gaze to the ceiling, but from the corner of his eye, she sat up in bed and snatched the silk robe off the floor. “I’m going to have a shower.”

  Footsteps padded down the hall a few seconds later. Hands behind his head, he sighed. One hour into their sealed bond and he was already dispassionate about it.

  No, he could not see a possible chance of their relationship growing sounder. Too much had happened to simply forgive and forget.

  But perhaps he shouldn’t have sounded so cold. He punched the pillow beside him, forcing himself not to care. He wouldn’t allow the solid brick wall he built over the years to break. In fact, a brick wall no longer did the job. He’d require an electric fence and guards, too. Last night he almost let go of his inhibitions. Tonight he was close to losing it again. He must stay in control.

  A stinging pain lanced in his chest, so pulsating and sharp he all but gyrated off the mattress. He rubbed at the sore spot. “What the hell?” But he recognised the familiar pain, the sensitive current running in him.

  Amber was upset.

  “Dammit.” What was this, the second…third time he’d hurt her feelings today? If only he could shut off the blasted connection between them. He contemplated a quick apology, and threw the sheets off. But before he lunged out of bed, he froze.

  ****

  She inspected her reflection in the mirror. Nothing differed; she didn’t feel more like a woman. Other than the slight ache between her legs, she was the same. She had wanted him so much, had thought from the way he stared, he’d make love to her. But she wasn’t desired, not like that. She brushed her fingertips across her mouth. He had refused her kiss.

  Their foreplay had been wonderful. The way he stroked her, the way she climaxed in his arms. It was beautiful and frightening all at once, like being edged at the height of a rollercoaster, just seconds away from the big drop. That had all changed once he laid her down. He seemed emotionally shut off, and resembled a robot going with the motions.

  The intense flame of pain surprised her when he’d first entered her, and it had taken everything not to scream. Instead she hid her face in his shoulder and clumsily kept going with it.

&nbs
p; Tears streaked her face. She untied the knot in her robe, and the pink silk pooled at her feet. In the shower, she twisted the lever, and more tears glided to her chin. A sob surged in her throat, and she smothered the sound with her hand. Leaning into the glass frame, she slid to the tiled floor, and bent her knees to her chest. A small trail of blood smeared her inner thigh, and another sob rose. She swallowed the sound.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Breath caught in her throat. Her gaze shot to the locked door.

  “Amber!”

  What did he want? Couldn’t he leave her alone? She gasped a mouthful of air and called out, “What?” Even so, the word sounded coarse.

  “Open up,” he said, his voice full of command. “Now!”

  Her heart slammed into her chest, hard and unrelenting. “No. I’m showering.”

  “I’m not kidding. Open the damn door!” He banged with severe force. If he kept this up, the entire cottage would collapse.

  “Go away, Chayton,” she yelled, this time the hurt broke through her voice.

  “That’s it.”

  Silence followed his little warning. A loud whack erupted. The door cracked off its hinges and slammed to the tiles. She jolted where she sat. In the doorway in nothing but a pair of boxers, he stared at her crouched position.

  “Get out!” She swallowed, determined to make him leave before he realised. The embarrassment of this night couldn’t continue.

  “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions.” He bypassed the broken door and stormed toward her. “Why is there blood on the sheets?”

  Her cheeks scorched. The sheets? So much for less humiliation.

  “Amber,” he said her name with hesitancy, “were you a—”

  “Oh, just get out!” She cringed, and smacked the back of her head on the glass.

  “Amber,” he snapped.

  Her eyes narrowed. He sought the truth, fine. “Yes. Happy now? Can you leave me alone?”

  “I don’t understand.” He shook his head, and ignored the fact she told him to go. “You’re Amber Johnson.”

  Oh, how she hated her name said in that way, as if it would be listed in the dictionary under whore. She had herself to blame. After all, she built that image. Stupidity and popularity shot to her head, and living the facade seemed simpler than facing reality. “Amber Johnson is a lie,” she said, teeth clenched, and staring at the stream of water crashing on the tiles and spraying over her feet.

  “So, you did what…?” He knelt next to her, his tone gentle. “You made out you were some easy girl? Your reputation was just a rumour?”

  She had fooled around, but whenever the occasion arose, she felt wrong, whether it was the timing, the place, or the man. “It’s not like I saved myself, but every time I thought it would happen, I felt sick.”

  Except for tonight; she yearned for him more than her next heartbeat. Perhaps the bond they shared played a part in this. Could that be the reason she never had sex with other men? “So, yeah, I lied about my experience, and I’ve continued to lie after all these years.”

  “I don’t understand why you would fib about your sex life.”

  She gazed at him this time. His face was soft with compassion. Maybe he did care to understand. A new tear slid down her cheek, and her voice broke. “Because, for once in my life I wasn’t resented and I loved the feeling, so I did everything I could to stay on top. I was mean, selfish, and I went along with every story spread about me.”

  A bitter laugh escaped. “And you think my great grades and popularity mattered to my parents? No! I wasn’t as good as Lucas or any other Elite.” Her chin trembled. “Every time the clans gathered, I became a laughingstock. My own mother would degrade me in front of the other witches. I guess it was her way of covering her embarrassment.”

  His jaw clenched. He didn’t have to say a word; the serious expression displayed his belief. Besides, it was no secret what a disappointment she was to her parents.

  “You should have told me you were a virgin. I could have been—”

  “Could have been what?” she spat with sarcasm. “Gentle, slow? You could have opened a bottle of champagne, or decorated the room with rose petals and candles?”

  “Stop it,” he growled.

  She didn’t. “As if you’d believe me. Admit it. You would’ve laughed in my face.”

  His Adams apple bobbed, and he shifted his gaze to the floor before glancing back. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes,” she answered in a curt tone.

  “Dammit, Amber, you really know how to piss me off.”

  “Get out.” She pointed to the open doorway. “I mean it.” He didn’t budge, still crouched next to her. When she was about to repeat herself, he rose and made his way out of the bathroom. She closed her eyes, and wished time would freeze. How could she face him again after tonight?

  Chapter 12

  Amber shifted upright in bed and yawned. The spot next to her was empty. She shoved off the sheet, snatched the pink robe, and traipsed into the hall. Her stomach grumbled. Blueberry pancakes floated in her mind. If she possessed her magic, she could whip some in a matter of seconds. She had practiced a few magical recipes over the years, but with her lack of power, the traditional way would have to do.

  Quietness lingered as she neared the kitchen, and she stole a quick peek in the living room. A sheet lay folded on the coffee table with a pillow. So, he had slept on the sofa…again. At first, she’d been relieved he hadn’t shared their bed, but that had been a few days ago. Now, loneliness sprouted a hollow ache inside, and like a seed in soil, it grew.

  She entered the kitchen, running a hand through her dishevelled hair. Shock seeped out of her like perspiration. He sat at the dining table, dressed in a black singlet, long hair touching his jaw.

  A cup of coffee secured in one hand, and his eyes glued to the open newspaper in front of him. Did he see her sneak into the living room? She hoped not. Today was the second day of the alpha events, and she expected he’d be with the tribe. He glanced from the steaming mug and met her gaze.

  “Please come with me this morning to the games.”

  The first he’d spoken in the past four days and that was all he had to say? Although, she hadn’t said anything since the night of the marking either. They’d been like ghosts, roaming the house in silence. She hoped to stay home and read the saved articles she’d found on Google about starting a photography business. “I wasn’t there yesterday. What’s so different now?”

  He took a sip of his coffee. The mug clinked with the wooden table. “The men were requested for the opening game yesterday. Today the entire tribe must be there.” He rose and ambled to the sink. Charcoal shorts fell to his knees and displayed tanned, muscular legs.

  She tore her gaze away, staring out the kitchen window. “Where is this game being held?”

  “In the meadow behind the cottage.” He whirled to face her. “Our traditions have a game called A-ne-jo-di, which means the little brother of war. It’s similar to what you might know as Stickball.”

  “I’ve heard about it. You play with sticks to catch a ball and score goals. But how will the game work when there are four of you competing? It’s not like you’re on the same team.”

  “We’re not teaming up. The game we’ll play is a little different. We’ll all be fighting each other for the ball and whoever hits twelve points first, wins.”

  “Fun,” she said in a dreary tone.

  He shot her a serious glare. The last remark had been a bad attempt at a joke. Tense silence assailed the room. Why did she sense an argument coming? She pivoted and dashed down the hall, into the bathroom. Her appetite for blueberry pancakes evaporated.

  After a quick shower, she changed into a denim skirt and white t-shirt. Chayton waited at the front of the cottage, and they strolled into the meadow. Members of the tribe talked amongst themselves. Kel and Jackie were the first to notice them and waved. The rest turned and smiled. Well, everyone except for Stacy and Mrs. Snell.r />
  Sani approached with a strong arm wrapped around Kaya. Why couldn’t her relationship be as blessed as the other women in the tribe? Sani adored Kaya as if she were a precious gem, rather than a live-in partner he had to tolerate.

  “We’re sorry about your uncle, Chay.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a sad smile.

  Amber frowned, then quickly nodded to the couple, pretending she knew what they spoke about. What happened to his uncle?

  “Okay, folks,” Len called. “Let’s make our way to the river.”

  Amber grabbed Chayton’s arm. “Why are we going there?”

  “It’s a blessing ritual. We must be dunked seven times to gain strength and wisdom for the game.”

  At the edge of the meadow, a wide river stretched and narrowed around a rocky bank. Sunlight streaked the blue-green running waters. She slipped off her shoes and the damp grass moistened her feet. Amber closed her eyes, and listened to the song of a northern cardinal bird high in the trees. This place precipitated a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time. When she opened her eyes, Chayton’s dark ones were on her. His blank expression gave no indication to his thoughts.

  “Ready?” he asked through their link.

  “Yes.”

  Two older ladies sang in their custom Cherokee language. One of them she hadn’t met, and the other was Stacy’s mother. She remembered Mrs. Snell from years ago when the older woman had come to the school to complain about Amber’s constant bullying. She’d also been at the welcome party, but Amber did not blame the woman for ignoring her.

  “It’s an old tradition,” Chayton explained, nodding toward the women. “They’re singing to purify us.”

  “Right,” she said. What next? A sacrificial virgin?

  He removed his shirt, together with the others. The women followed their men into the water. Amber treaded behind Chayton, grateful she’d chosen a short skirt for the occasion. They halted when knee-deep, and he settled into the river, sitting with his legs bent in front and the water at level with his chest. She shot a quick glance to Dakota, who bent to dip Howi. Seemed easy enough…she hoped. Amber placed one hand at the nape of his neck, the other over his chest. Gently, she lowered him for the first dunk. With the background singing and the responsibility of this chore, nerves tickled her spine.