Hateful Desire

by Marianne Willis

  Rosabel smiled, disregarding her hand and tugged her in for a hug. “Please, drop the formalities. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  Amber encountered the refreshing combination of vanilla and sea salt. Rosabel veered back, and shot Chayton a smile. “Your father said she was pretty. The word doesn’t do her justice.” Chestnut eyes settled on her once again. “You are beautiful.”

  The compliment was not expected, neither was the show of kindness. Rosabel seemed like a wonderful woman. Sudden and intense jealousy consumed her, eating her inside like a viral infection. Amber frowned.

  The way Rosabel treated her and Chayton…if only her own mother had the same characteristics. What an amazing childhood he must have had, being raised by this woman and Len.

  Rosabel hooked their arms and ambled into the house. The party was in the yard, every member of the tribe present.

  “Guess who arrived,” Rosabel called, and the attention turned on them. Some cheers erupted while others clapped.

  “About time,” Ian said. “Your mother has been pacing the floors waiting for you.”

  “You knew about this.” He pointed to his dad next. “You did, too, I bet. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “He’s always hated surprises,” Rosabel whispered.

  Amber smiled. “Yes, that’s one of the first things I noticed about him.” The memory of Chayton’s expression when she had cast the Keeper Spell fused in her mind. That felt like a lifetime ago compared to now.

  Len approached, and the three shared a family group hug. Amber took the opportunity to step in front of Ian. “Hey, can I drop this somewhere?” she asked, holding her handbag.

  “Sure, follow me.”

  They entered the house, and into a hallway. Delicious spices lingered in the air. Family photos lined the peach-coloured walls. She followed him into a bedroom painted in light blue. Several posters decorated the walls, one of Tupac, some of bikini models, and the rest of BMX bikes. “Nice,” she said, her voice etched with humour.

  Ian smirked. “It was mine. My mother didn’t remodel a thing after I moved out. She still thinks I’m going to come crawling home one day. It’s been seven years so far.”

  Amber snorted a laugh. “Well, I think it’s sweet. My old room is boxed up for sure.” She couldn’t picture her parents leaving it untouched. “You have a room at Chayton’s, your own place, plus a room here?”

  “What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m just welcome everywhere.” He pointed to the bed with the Ferrari doona cover. “You can leave the bags in here.”

  A large framed collage hung above the head of the bed. Ian, from his teen years. He still had the long hair. Most of the pictures were of him and a group of guys with BMX bikes. A few natural shots of bike stunts stood out, especially the one in the centre of Ian.

  Black shirt billowed over his rock-solid torso, tattered denims hung loosely at his waist as he held onto the handlebars of the bike, feet dangling in the air. Good to see he was a smart boy and wore a helmet.

  Other shots were of him and a group surrounding a campfire. Amber recognised a few of the outdoor locations and national parks. “You used to ride?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “These pics were before my professional days. My friends and I held private competitions. Over fifty teens camped out on weekends to watch our match. Good times.”

  One image in particular caught her eye. Behind a smiling Ian and his friends, a girl rest against a tree in the background, her stance vaguely familiar. She faced the direction of the camera, but a hoodie obscured her features. Rachel? Amber squinted, but the face wasn’t clear. No, she had to be mistaken. Her cousin had never attended events like that.

  Amber dumped the bag, but withdrew her mascara when spotting the mirror attached to the wooden closet. “I wish you’d have told me Chayton’s mother would be here.”

  “Is that why you’re touching up right now?” He leaned his big frame into the wall. “Ooh, someone wants to impress the in-laws.”

  “Shut up,” she jested, concentrating on not smudging her makeup.

  “You know, I don’t understand why women open their mouths when applying that stuff.”

  Amber spared him a glance. From first impression, anyone would know not to mess with such a robust man, but Ian was a softy on the inside. “I read somewhere the muscles are connected, so when the eyes are wide open so is the mouth.”

  “So that’s why when a woman’s on her knees, looking up while sucking—”

  “Ian!” Her chide developed into a chuckle while his rumbling laughter echoed the room. She scoffed and crooked her attention to the matter at hand.

  “Amber,” he said, scooting next to her. The low tone of his voice made her twist. She didn’t think she ever heard him be so serious. “You look fine.”

  She shrugged. “That’s the problem. I should be more than fine. This is the wrong outfit for meeting his mother. I should have worn something nicer, or put my hair—”

  “Amber,” he repeated, ceasing her rambling. His shoulders lifted in shrug. “Have you always been this paranoid? Man, I can’t believe I had a little fear of witches…when you lot are scared of yourselves. Stop worrying about what people think. Just go out there and have a good time.”

  He had a small fear of her kind? Anyone would assume someone of his height and size did not fear anything. She sighed, placed the mascara in her purse, and unzipped the black bag to withdraw the camera. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He sighed with relief.

  As they strode out of the room and toward the yard, she paused and patted his shoulder. “Thanks.” For some reason Ian understood her, it was nice having him on her side.

  He grinned. “No worries.”

  The party continued into the afternoon. Amber laughed with Jackie and Dakota. She didn’t expect to have this much fun.

  The men spoke near the steaming barbecue, holding beers. When the women rose to dance in front of the stereo, she rotated in her seat to see who else remained at the table.

  Stacy and her mother sat at the end, speaking in a low, private tone. She refused to intrude and doubted Stacy would talk with her anyway.

  Laughter erupted behind her. Three adorable children chased each other in the backyard. The toddler must have grown tired of his clothes and ran in just a diaper and feather headband.

  He was Sani and Kaya’s firstborn, and the two young girls were Ian’s nieces. Their sweet laughter sang in the air and roused wonderful memories of growing up with Brianna and Rachel.

  She snatched her camera and headed toward the children.

  “Amber, come dance with us,” Jackie called.

  Amber waved her camera and pointed to the kids.

  Jackie smiled with a shrug. “Maybe later, then.”

  She focused on the children, and perched on the wooden seat facing the lawn. Click, click, click. Their bright faces and joyful behaviour captured in the afternoon light made great shots.

  They stopped when noticing her. One of the girls approached. She had short dark hair that bobbed at her chin, and her grin revealed a missing tooth. Amber guessed she was no older than five.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a singsong voice.

  Amber held out the device to show the picture she took. The girl slapped her mouth and chuckled. “I look funny.”

  “You look very pretty. What’s your name?”

  “Ayita. And that’s Inola.” She thrust her finger at the other girl who appeared about the same age, but had longer hair in split braids. “And that’s Tyler.” She pointed to Jackie and Kel’s little boy.

  “Are you two sisters?”

  Ayita shook her head with so much vigor, her dark hair swayed across her face. “She’s my cousin.”

  Amber lost her smile, heart rising to her throat. “I bet you two are close, more like sisters than cousins. Am I right?”

  The girls nodded with enthusiasm. “Do you have a cousin?” Inola asked in a sweet, small voice.

  She smi
led. “Yes. And they’re like sisters to me, too, but they’re not here anymore.” It took everything to keep the tears at bay, but she couldn’t control the tremble in her chin.

  “Where are they?” Ayita shrugged, unaware of the emotional mess Amber sank into.

  “Um, Brianna lives in France with her husband. And Rachel…” She paused and swallowed. Unable to answer, she lifted her camera and decided to take her mind off the terrible image that surfaced. Rachel lying in that alley, covered in blood and unmoving. “May I take some pictures of you kids?”

  Now that she had their attention, no way would they run and play, but instead started posing. She chuckled when Inola and Ayita placed one hand on their waist and the other high in the air, like mini supermodels. She clicked, taking some good shots she would later give to their families. Tyler shuffled in front of them, not wanting to be left out.

  “Do you wish to pose, too?”

  The little boy nodded, threw his hands in the air and star-jumped. Joy tickled her insides, and she laughed with greater force.

  “Why are you laughing?” The abrupt voice cracked the air like a whip. She lowered the camera and stared at a glowering Stacy.

  “Pardon?”

  Stacy glared from her to the children, then back. Her nose scrunched with distaste. “Are you…teasing them? Is that why you’re laughing?”

  The kids tilted their heads, uncertainty shadowing their small faces.

  Amber shot out of the seat and stepped close to Stacy, so the children wouldn’t see them quarrel. “Are you kidding me? No, I’m not teasing them.” She hoped her low voice presented her irritation. “What’s the matter with you?” The fact Stacy still thought of her as a mean old bully made her sick. No, literally…Amber swallowed the bile rising. Her stomach coiled into knots and sudden dizziness smacked between her eyes.

  “Stacy,” Chayton said, now beside them. “That’s enough.”

  “Chay, I think she teased—”

  “I know what you thought, so did the entire party. You’re wrong, Stacy. Now get the hell away from her."

  The entire party? Of course, wolf hearing. Amber gazed about the backyard. He was right. Everyone furrowed their brows at the scenario. Oh, how embarrassing. Chayton didn’t focus on Stacy, but eyed her, face softened in concern. Why concern? How pale did she appear?

  “Sorry,” Stacy muttered. “After all, Cherokee children have always been her targets.” The dark-haired beauty sauntered away.

  He closed the space between them, arms snaking her waist. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

  Her stomach agreed, churning. “Is there a taxi service in this area? I’d like to go home.” The mention of home unveiled an image of her peach and white king bed in Asheville. That was not her home anymore. Her home was a cute little cottage nestled in the heart of Qualla Boundary.

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No, don’t leave the party on my account.”

  “I’m leaving with you, Amber.” His words sounded final, and she didn’t have the energy to fight him. Too embarrassed to say goodnight, she stormed into the house with her head bowed, snatched her bags from Ian’s old room, and made for the front door.

  “Is everything okay? What happened?” Rosabel asked behind them. Amber didn’t dare turn.

  “Amber’s not feeling well,” Chayton said. “I’m taking her home.”

  “Okay, mon fils. Promise me the four of us will catch up soon.”

  “You know we will.”

  A moment later, he placed his hand at her lower back and led her to his truck. She wound the window when they drove off, drawing back deep breaths of the cool night air. The tight knots entwining her stomach settled as they drove.

  She thought about what happened at the party, and her heart clenched, face hued with hot mortification. Warmth encased her fingers when he took hold of her hand.

  “It’s okay, Amber.”

  Dammit, how could she forget he experienced her emotions? It was an invasion of her privacy. She’d rather endure the pain in silence, had never been the type to burden others with her thoughts or troubles. Of course, Amber Johnson wouldn’t be so perfect if she had problems; at least, that’s why she never told anyone. No one knew of the sad woman behind the mask. The fact Chayton could seep beneath the surface and discover this, goaded her. She contemplated nudging his hand away, but lacked courage at the moment.

  ****

  Chayton switched off the engine and sighed.

  “I did not tease those children.” Her voice sounded weak, almost defeated. She still faced the window. Did she refuse to peer at him?

  “I know. I’m sorry about Stacy, she shouldn’t have done that.” Stacy had been out of line. He was taken by Amber when she played with the kids, and understood she laughed at their fun and games.

  The children enjoyed making her chuckle in response, pulling funny faces and posing silly. He once said he couldn’t picture this woman with kids, but seeing her tonight…he’d been wrong.

  She amazed him. He’d been sipping his beer when her sweet laughter first snagged his attention, so different from the fake she expressed in front of the Elites.

  No, this had been natural, and the adoration in her gorgeous face tightened his chest. He had no doubt Amber would make a good mother.

  He followed her to the house. She rushed to place the key in the door, her hands trembling.

  “I’ve got it,” she snapped when he leaned in to help.

  The door swung open and she sauntered in, placed her handbag on the counter and removed the band tying her hair, letting the wavy locks fall over her shoulders.

  “Can I get you anything?” Earlier, he assumed she would puke. She had been so pale.

  “No, I’m fine now.” She passed the kitchen and made for the hallway, but paused and wheeled to face him. Her lips parted, but after a silent moment, she said, “Goodnight.”

  He doubted that was what she intended to say, but didn’t stop her when she stalked down the hall and into his bedroom.

  After brushing his teeth and stripping his clothes, he strolled to the sofa. The pillow and sheet lay where he left it. His head spun as he settled in for the night. Exhaustion formed his limbs into dough.

  The tournaments were full on, but they weren’t the entire reason for his lack of energy. It was Amber, and the constant silence. He was sick of it. Staring at the ceiling, he yawned. The heavy weight of his eyes drooped, and he gave into sleep.

  Strident whooshing and crashing waters made him open his eyes. He was no longer in his living room, but at the river near his house.

  Black and grey mammatus clouds covered the sky. Sharp white, vein-like streaks cracked within the darkness. Droplets sprayed him. He observed the watercourse, which was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

  Rough, roaring billows smashed the rocks with loud slaps. Wild winds blew through the leaves, and each tree swayed side to side. He dreamed, but why a storm? Did it represent something? Twigs snapped beneath his bare feet as he trudged along the course and searched for a way out.

  Movement to his left caught his sight. Shading his view, he squinted. Across the river, behind the trees, Amber hiked, arm shielding her face from the austere wind. Her hair was wild, blowing in all directions. The same dress from the night of the marking clung to her body.

  “Amber,” he called, but wasn’t sure she heard him with the harsh surfs colliding between them. “Amber!”

  She stopped. He rushed to the rocks, and water hurtled over his feet. Her lips twisted, and she continued walking.

  “Amber, talk to me. Isn’t it bad enough we ignore each other during the day, do we have to do it in our dreams, too?”

  “Just like in reality, Chayton,” she called. “I have nothing to say.”

  “Amber wait, will you just wait!”

  She stopped, and whirled to face him.

  He couldn’t do this anymore. Living in the same house, breathing the same space, but unable to share each other’s
company. It drove him nuts. “I wanted to kiss you that night.”

  “What?” She stumbled back.

  “Before you asked me to do it, I craved to kiss you.”

  “Just stop, Chayton.” She ran a hand through her hair, observing the area, perhaps contemplating which way to go. “I know where I stand with you.”

  “No, you don’t.” He took a step forward, the water lapped at his calves. “I ran my thumb over your lips and I hungered to feel my mouth on yours. I desired to kiss you, and I’ve kicked myself every day since because I didn’t.”

  Her throat bobbed. She peered at her feet, then at him. He could feel her emotions at war with each other. A deep pang of rejection blocked her desire...desire for him. That manner of spiralled feelings could drive someone insane. He knew all too well how that felt, wanting someone so bad it meant ignoring the pain they’d caused.

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really.”

  A smile curved and broke into a soft sob. Clutching her dress, her brow puckered in concentration. “I think I’m trapped. How can I reach you?”

  “We’ll find a way.” He scrutinised further down, but couldn’t see the canoe tied to its usual post.

  She traipsed back.

  Wait, she wasn’t going to…yes she was. “Amber, don’t!”

  She ran, dived into the water. Her body disappeared beneath the swell, then surfaced as she swam toward him. He surged forward, arched his arms above his head and dove under. His strokes did nothing against the strict knocks of waves, and he was shoved further out rather than drawn closer. “Amber!”

  “Chayton,” she called. “I can’t reach you!”

  He used all his strength, arms aching from the continuous movement. “I’m trying.” A large surf plunged over his head, dunking him under. He tried again, but was thrown by yet another wave. He surfaced, but couldn’t see her. “Amber!”

  Chapter 14

  Amber shot up in bed, inhaling sharp and fast. Her heart pounded with a furious beat. She was no longer drowning. Dismissing her robe, she rushed to the door. Darkness veiled the corridor, and she patted outside, finding the switch.