Hateful Desire

by Marianne Willis

  She slapped her hips, and twirled on her sneakers. “Asshole.” As she headed up the hall, Chayton approached his locker. “Time for some damage control.” She stalked toward him, hands fisted by her sides. “Hey, you!”

  He glanced over his shoulder while dumping several books into his bag. “What?”

  “Tell anyone about what you saw and I swear you’ll live to regret it.”

  “Whatever,” he said, removing his calculator and grabbing a set of highlighters.

  Panic pierced her insides. If word spread she had been crying she’d lose her tough-girl appearance. No, she couldn’t allow that to happen. She stepped closer, and tugged him to face her. “I’m not kidding, loser. Don’t mess with me.”

  He glowered, eyes darkening with hatred. Flinging his arm out of her hold, he shut the tin door and stormed down the hallway.

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” she called after him.

  The image of Chayton faded, similar to a curtain closing in on an olden day movie. The focus restored seconds later, but this time she wasn’t by the lockers. She sprinted past students and approached a closed door. Opening it, Mrs. Brown whirled with a sour expression. Wait…she never had this teacher for any of her classes.

  “Mr. Locklear, better late than never.”

  Chayton’s here?

  “Sorry,” she uttered. Her voice! Wow, it sounded different. She took a seat, and laid her arm on the cold desk. No, not hers, this arm was tanned, a red sleeve scrunched up at the elbow. She was in Chayton’s body? She had no idea the tea would allow her this in-depth experience.

  He paid attention to the class, scribbled notes in his book and raised a hand to answer questions. When the final bell sounded, students jetted out of their seats and rushed out the door, but Chayton didn’t. He took his time packing his bag, and then headed into the hallway.

  A young girl with dark, frizzy hair waited for him in front of his locker.

  “Hey.” He lowered and kissed her.

  “No PDA, guys,” a teacher interrupted when passing. “By the way, excellent work with your speech today, Miss Snell.”

  Chayton grinned. “Great job, babe.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, good work, Miss Smells!” someone shouted when they ran down the hall.

  “Hey, stop right there.” The teacher jogged toward the disobedient student.

  Stacy rolled her eyes, ignoring the comment. “How was class?”

  He opened his locker and grabbed an mp3 player. “You’ll never guess what happened today.”

  “What?” She leaned in close, her dark eyes wide and curious.

  “I saw Amber Johnson crying in the library.”

  She snorted. “Does the bitch even have tear ducts?”

  “I thought the same.” He gazed across the hall, and shuddered with violent force. Amber stood next to a locker, glaring. “Shit,” he said, shooting his gaze to the floor. “She’s looking this way.”

  “What?” Stacy asked, about to rotate.

  “No. Don’t look.”

  She obeyed, and faced him once more. Chayton zipped his bag, swung the strap around his shoulder, and took Stacy’s hand. They strolled out of the hallway. “Man, sometimes I wish I would just shift already. My wolf instincts would be so useful. Did you see the look she gave me?” he muttered. “Like she wanted to hex me or something.”

  “She probably could. My mother says her family are one of the clans.”

  “Witches! For real?”

  “Yeah. You know the country club where my mother works?”

  He nodded.

  “She waited on their table. Mrs. Johnson sat with a group of women, and my mother swore she heard them talking about witchcraft.”

  “Amber Johnson, a witch? Well, that makes a lot of sense.”

  They entered the school parking lot. An old sedan waited with the engine running, and a woman in the driver seat waved.

  “There’s my sister,” Stacy said. “Do you want a ride home?”

  “Na, I’m looking forward to the walk. I need to break in these new shoes.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and wrapped him in a hug. “Don’t get started on those damn shoes. I love you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  He hugged her tight, nose nuzzling below her ear. “I love you, too.”

  He loved her? The way he’d said it, slow and sweet. Amber shivered. A pang of jealousy struck her chest. He never uttered those words before, at least not with her. The fact he said them to a different woman was like acid coating her body.

  Stacy hopped into the car and waved goodbye. He strolled out of the schoolyard, down the narrow road of Grindstaff street, and cursed at his mp3 player. “Darn battery,” he groaned, stuffing the device in his bag.

  Sunlight crossed the nape of his neck, but a slight coolness eased the burning sensation every time a large tree shaded the path.

  Chayton’s gaze remained on his feet. His emotions didn’t stir within, but the smile tugging his lips validated he was ecstatic about the new shoes. He didn’t take his eyes off them. Even when he kicked at an empty cola can, he assessed the leather shining in the sun.

  “Nice shoes.”

  Unaware someone had followed, he spun. Dominic stood with two of his brothers. Not far behind them was a car parked in a strange angle, as if stopped suddenly. It had to be one of these guys’ cars. Their expressions fell between a scowl and a smirk. Panic tightened her chest. Chayton swallowed, taking a step backward. “What do you want, Dominic?”

  Dominic enclosed his fist, the cracking of his knuckles reverberated in the air. “I wanna know what you did to my girlfriend?”

  “Nothing,” he insisted. “She seemed upset and I asked if she was all right. That’s all.”

  “Oh,” Dominic tapped his head. “That’s all. Well, don’t sweat it then.”

  “Really?”

  Dominic shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Chayton sighed and walked away, his pace a little quicker. Immediate pain struck the rear of his head. Falling forward, he slid across the road, and painful tingles burned his palms from the instant graze.

  She wanted to scream, wanted to urge him to his feet and run. Why bother reliving the past if she couldn’t change what happened?

  Amber concentrated on his body, forcing him to swing an arm, a leg, anything to counteract them, but couldn’t. A sharp blow pummelled his stomach. The pain. Oh, the pain speared to the back of his spine. He coughed and gagged. His hands raked at the road in an attempt to raise himself.

  Reeled onto his side, one of Dominic’s brothers hovered above him. Smack to the jaw, one to the eye. Crack. The last one was to the nose, and the pulsating throb thrummed all the way into his cheeks. Chayton licked his lip, a metallic taste verified blood.

  His leg shot out, aiming for the groin. The movement was not by her, but Chayton…defending himself. And he failed. Just before impact, Dominic stomped his thigh. The muscle throbbed so much, he cried out.

  “You wanna try something like that again, freak?” Dominic shouted.

  Chayton shrieked when the attacks pummelled from all angles. The group kicked and punched with relentless force. Warm air touched his sock-covered feet.

  One of Dominic’s brothers had removed his shoes. Ignoring the pain in his limbs, he swung his limp arm, only managing to capture a single shoelace. The guy hauled, but Chayton refused to release his grip.

  The lace snapped. Chayton fell back. A throbbing burn slammed his skull when his head smacked the asphalt.

  He elevated his clenched fist, revealing what remained of his new shoes, a broken lace. Another scream erupted. Unable to defend himself, he endured the force of their blows.

  No! Oh, please! Amber screamed. Stop! You’re hurting him! Stop! Her attempts were pointless, but she continued to shout. If only she could lay her body atop his and protect him from the continuous attacks. Please, stop!

  ****

  “I’m proud of you, son,” his fat
her patted his shoulder, then ambled to the table with bottled water.

  Chayton didn’t know why. He hadn’t won the game because he’d been too preoccupied. Just when things were going well, a storm crashed into him and Amber. He tsked, forcing the awareness from his mind.

  “Someone seems distracted.”

  He turned to the familiar voice. “Hey, Stacy.”

  “What happened out there today?”

  He shrugged, not in the mood to talk about his problems. “My head wasn’t in the game.”

  She tucked a strand of sweat-slick hair behind his ear. He inwardly recoiled at the simple touch. Only Amber's caresses were welcome, her gentle fingertips comforted and teased in unison.

  Last night he'd let his emotions control him. Did it matter what happened in the past? Even if Amber did request for her boyfriend to beat him, it shouldn’t affect their present or future.

  After many weeks with Amber, it was clear she wasn’t the same woman in high school. Every day he waited for her to slip up, expected her true colours to shine through.

  No need to deny it any longer…Amber Johnson had changed. And he wished the realisation had hit him several hours ago rather than in this instant, but from the bottom of his heart, he forgave her.

  “Do you believe in karma?” she asked, cutting in on his revelation.

  Where did that come from? He needed to leave, find Amber and apologise for last night. He must make things right between them.

  “I do,” she continued, and he doubted she heard his response, as though lost in a trance, staring at the open space. “What comes around goes around…isn’t that what they say?”

  “Stacy, are you okay? You don’t seem yourself.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “I did something. You need to know I had her consent. This was the only way to show her the truth.”

  He frowned. “Show who the truth? What are you talking about?”

  “Amber asked about the day you were beaten, so I gave her the tea.”

  The air thickened, sudden and intense, as if Mother Nature herself wanted to suffocate him. “You w-what,” he stuttered. He didn’t hear right; he couldn’t possibly have heard right.

  “She wanted this.”

  Oh, hell. “Amber’s in a Dream-Walk?” he shouted.

  Her gaze darted around them, and she shuffled closer. “Shh, you’re making a scene.”

  He didn’t give a shit about the damn commotion he made. “You know what that’ll do to her?” he rasped. This couldn’t be happening.

  “She wanted to know what happened. This is the only way.”

  “No!” He shook his head, eyes burning with fury. “What have you done?”

  He reeled around. Other members of the tribe whispered with concern. Ignoring their blatant stares, he searched the table, whacked bottles of water to the floor. “Where the hell are my car keys?” He shot a look to the meadow in front. “Fuck it.”

  Running as fast as he could for the cottage, he whacked branches out of his face and sprinted. Twigs cracked beneath his feet. Birds cawed and fluttered high above. He leapt over a small boulder.

  Panting, sweating, he ignored the ache in his thigh muscles and kept running. Up ahead, the grassy hill to his home surfaced. His hands fisted by his sides, and he pumped his arms as he drew closer.

  “Amber,” he shouted, racing up the driveway and almost stumbling on the set of stairs. The door rattled in its frame when he tried forcing the thick wood open. It was locked. He staggered to the window. The drapes were drawn, and he peered inside.

  There, on the sofa lay his mate. “Amber!” His scream scratched his throat. Blood covered her nose and mouth, and her body thrashed.

  Her dislocated arm sagged against the sofa in an awkward position, the same right arm he had broken all those years ago.

  He reeled to one of the porch chairs and raised the seat overhead. The timber crashed through the window, glass shattered along his wooden floor. He jumped the sill, unconcerned with broken shards stabbing his bare feet, and rushed to her side. “Amber.”

  He slid a gentle hand beneath her back and lifted. Lightly patting the side of her face, he urged her to wake up. “Come on, baby. Snap out of it for me. Please. Please.”

  Azure eyes flew open, and she screamed in pain.

  “Amber.” He captured her attention, and her eyes widened. Tears ran down her red, swollen face.

  “Chayton,” she whimpered. She stroked his jaw with her good arm, then cupped the nape of his neck and urged him forward. “I’m here, Chayton. I’m here,” she cooed. “I’ve got you. They can’t hurt you. I’ve got you.”

  He froze at her soothing tone. He should be the one reassuring and comforting her, yet here she was.

  “I’ve got you…” Her voice grew faint.

  Chayton veered back. “Amber?”

  “I'm sorry.” She choked on a sob. “I didn’t know,” she said with frantic haste, staring into his eyes. “I swear, Chayton. I…” Her eyes drooped and her neck lolled.

  “Amber!” Something was wrong. He didn’t react like this when he was beaten.

  “I…didn’t, I…” She sagged into unconsciousness before she finished.

  Chapter 16

  A continuous beep chimed from a far distance. Was that a reversing truck? She opened her stinging eyes. A fluorescent light lingered above, shining against the bright white walls. She raised her arm, but her muscles resembled jelly and sagged like a ragdoll. The heavy scent of bleach lingered in the air.

  Confusion fogged her head as different faces and scenes flashed in her mind. The faraway beep grew louder. Not a distant truck, but the monitors to her left.

  A hospital?

  Her temples throbbed, and she just managed to squint through her left eye. Was it swollen? She swallowed, but the scratchy rawness surged forth a throaty cough.

  Rushed movements closed in. Someone hovered above her, and a vague memory surfaced of three guys crowding, fists closed and swinging into…Chayton. She whimpered.

  “Amber. I’m here.”

  She blinked and focussed. Chayton, his dark eyes dancing over her face.

  “Hey, you,” he whispered.

  What happened, she aimed to say, but her sore throat failed her.

  She projected a thought to him. “Thirsty.”

  He snatched the cup on the side table and brought the water to her lips. Small mouthfuls moistened her tongue and throat. “What happened?” Even though croaky, she released the words.

  He did not respond, but peered at her body. She followed his gaze, and gasped at the horrid sight. A cast enclosed her elbow to her wrist. Another encircled her left thigh to her ankle.

  Bruises marked the visible skin of her unbroken limbs. It seemed painful, but her body remained numb. Was she pumped on morphine? She usually prided herself on her appearance, always made sure she personified perfection.

  The one thing her parents adored was her many beauty pageant winnings. “I want to see my face.”

  “Amber, please rest for now.”

  “Show me.”

  Maybe the croakiness in her tone infused his expression of pity. He opened a drawer at the side table and withdrew a small mirror. When he held up the round glass, surprise made her jolt.

  A blue-black bruise swelled her eye, and the other was no better with the purple smear beneath that stretched out to the corner of her busted nose.

  Three cuts marked her lips; two in the lower, and one on the top. She snickered. “Not quite Miss North Carolina, now, am I?” She tilted her chin to view the extent of the bruising.

  “Are you joking?” The softness of his tone couldn’t have sounded more serious than if he’d yelled.

  For the first time since awakening, she examined him. Black hair dishevelled, bloodshot eyes with grey circles beneath expressed his exhaustion. He seemed so sad, even angry. Okay, so humour might not be the best approach, but she had never been good with serious situations; they made her uncomfortable and levity was her
defence mechanism. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand how this happened.”

  “What do you mean? The Dream-Walk. Does that ring any bells?”

  She averted her gaze, and paused at the analog clock above the door. Midday. How could that be right? “How long have I been like this?”

  “Since yesterday afternoon. You were rushed into the ER. You’ve been out of it until now.” He sighed. “What the hell were you thinking? How could you be so stupid to participate, knowing you’d obtain my injuries?”

  The pain in her neck pulsed, but with slight movement she shook her head. “I thought I’d be dreaming. I wasn’t aware I signed up for the full experience.”

  “Wait.” He blinked. “You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  His face changed from a frown to a scowl. “Damn Stacy. I thought she told you and you agreed.”

  “I did agree, but like I said, I didn’t know I’d encounter all you had.”

  He sat in the chair beside the bed, and ran his hands along his hair. “In that case, I’m sorry for calling you stupid. You knew nothing of the consequences. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have done it.”

  She played with the bedding to avoid his statement.

  “You would not have done it,” he repeated when she didn’t agree. “Right?” The last word dashed out like a whip.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I would have.”

  A growl reverberated in the room, the sound similar to the deep rumbling of an engine. “Then I stand corrected the first time. You really are stupid.”

  She flinched at his harsh tone. “If you think about it, I deserve this.”

  “What?” His eyes almost popped out. “No one deserves this. I understand you were anxious to learn the truth about the past, but suffering like this isn’t worth it.”

  “Aren’t you at least the slightest bit curious as to what I learned from the tea?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he groaned. “I should have never argued with you. What’s in the past is in the past. It was wrong of me to throw it in your face.”

  After the way his mother acted the other day at lunch, it was no wonder the anger from the past erupted within him. She didn’t blame him for his outburst, but he still needed to hear the truth.