“I never told Dominic to go after you, but if I hadn’t bullied you in the first place, you would have never been a target. In fact, they wouldn’t have known you existed.”
He sighed, clasping his head in his hands. “You don’t get it. Yesterday, when I was at the game, I realised I forgive—”
“Knock, knock.” A man in a white coat entered the room, holding a clipboard. “I see someone is awake. Hello, Amber. I’m Doctor Marcom.”
She recognised the name. “Marcom?”
“Yes, you’ve already met my son, Sani, and his wife, Kaya.”
“So that means you’re a…” She didn’t finish as he lifted his sleeve and revealed the half-moon tattoo on his wrist.
“Myself and Doctor Tate are the only ones who know about the Dream-Walk. The rest of the staff believes you were mugged.”
Chayton jolted out of the seat and focused on the doctor. “How is she?”
He tapped the IV monitor and took notes in his chart. “You’re out of the danger zone. You’ve responded well to the medication, and we’ve stopped the internal bleeding without surgery, which is always a good thing. But there are a few tests I’d like to run.” His voice softened a fraction when he took another step closer. With a small ophthalmoscope, he shone the light first in her right eye, then her left.
“Sounds serious.” She swallowed.
Doctor Marcom scribbled extra notes and tucked his pen in the top pocket of his jacket. “I’m concerned about your reproductive organs and want to be sure you’ll be able to conceive and have natural births in the future.” Silence followed his statement, as though to allow the information to sink in.
The nape of her neck infused with heat, and a soft, irritating ringing started in her ears. If she had known the result of the tea would jeopardise her chance at future children, she’d have stayed clear of it. “Why would you be worried about me trying to become pregnant?”
Dr. Macrom tucked his chart beneath his arm, and sighed. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but tests show you’ve had a miscarriage.”
The blood drained from her face, like the rush of liquid pouring down a drainpipe. Pregnant? And she hadn’t even known. “Are you sure? It would be too early to tell.”
“You were further along due to the fact the baby was half werewolf. Werewolf pregnancies are more rapid than normal humans.”
Chayton? She twisted to him. He stared into nothing. She wasn’t even sure if he heard the doctor at all. His mouth trembled, the news at last settling in. She’d never seen his coffee skin so pale.
“I’ll return later and run those tests.” Doctor Marcom excused himself from the silent tension and shut the door behind him. The sound of it clicking in its frame snapped Chayton out of his stupor.
“Chayton, please.” She cleared the lump in her throat, but said nothing. What else could she say? How were they meant to talk about this? What words could make things right? She had agreed to drink a tea which destroyed a life, their baby’s.
He shot her a look, dark as night eyes glazed with unshed tears. Slow and careful, he retreated to the door, shaking his head. “I…” The single word was firmer than cement. “I need to get out of here.” He staggered the remaining steps, flung the door open and ran out.
She sat in silence. Ruthless emotion ripped her insides, and she wanted to scream, jump, and throw things. Trapped in her own body, she lay there, weak. And yes, it always derived back to that…her being powerless.
The build-up in her throat grew until a sob that sounded more like a gag erupted. What was wrong with her? Why did she obliterate everything she touched? Chayton once told her this bond was meant to be a blessing. Then why did she feel as if she was his curse?
****
Chayton sprinted into the hallway, sidestepping nurses, patients, and visitors. Pregnant. She had been pregnant.
“Chayton?”
He paused when Doctor Marcom hurried toward him. The doctor patted him on the shoulder. “I know this is terrible news—”
“How far along was she?” he cut in. Why he asked the question, he didn’t know. Not as if it would make a difference now. The damage was done.
Doctor Macrom shrugged. “My guess is conception would have occurred two weeks ago, but the fetus would have been the same size as a twelve-week pregnancy.”
Two weeks. The same night he marked her. “And…” He struggled to release the next words. “You think she won’t ever be able to conceive?”
The notion alone burned his internal organs. To think he destroyed her chance at motherhood. Their unborn baby was a bitter reminder of his selfishness. He’d wanted her pregnant so he could lead his pack.
Not once had he considered her views on becoming a mother, even when he boasted about what a great parent he’d make. But now…now he desired to watch her stomach grow round with his child, craved to make them a real family. Too late, he’d lost the chance.
Doctor Marcom squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The tests I’ll be running will confirm if your mate is still fertile. I know this puts you in a difficult situation with the competition for leader, but I suggest you ask your father to hold off the games until we know Amber’s condition.”
The competition. He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and marched off. Why bother competing, when after all these years he was still weak and pathetic. When he surged out of the building, he stormed along the sidewalk, bypassing more visitors.
Across from him, cars searched for parking spots, a wooden bench sat in the middle of a garden. He craved to pound his fist beside the no-smoking sign on the brick, but his weak body sagged, and he instead sank against the wall, hands raking his hair.
“Chayton?”
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson stood in front of him, faces taught with worry. William had one arm wrapped around his wife who clenched her hands. “Where is she?”
They might be the worst parents he’d ever met, but they weren’t as bad as him. They hadn’t let stubbornness kill their child. “Room 201. It’s down the hall, last on the left.” He gazed past their shoulders, refusing to stare them in the eyes. How could he face them after what he did to their daughter? They nodded and stormed past.
All his fault. He let the past interfere with the present, and almost lost his mate in the process. A part of him desired to track Dominic and beat the living daylights out of him. He’d thought about doing so years ago, after he’d transformed. But sensibility had been more powerful than his emotions; just because he could beat him up, didn’t mean he should.
He’d even seen Dominic at the reunion, and deliberately stopped in front of him, but the drunk couldn’t see him or anyone else for that matter, and had been kicked out of the function.
Revenge on Dominic wouldn’t make things right between him and his mate, but he didn’t doubt how great it would feel to knock that guy’s teeth out. Seeing Amber on the sofa had been the cruellest anguish he ever endured, and he’d tear the bastard limb from limb if he ever crossed paths with him.
He once believed his time in the hospital marked the worst day of his life. He was dead wrong.
“What the hell did you do, wolf?”
He glanced up, this time Lucas was before him.
“I ruined things, big time,” he admitted and rose from his crouched position.
“Did you hurt her? What the hell happened?” Lucas demanded, fists clenched by his sides.
If he didn’t know any better, the warlock wanted to take a swing. He wouldn’t stop the guy. “Amber drank a tea that recites the past. She relived the day I was beaten and now suffers the same injuries.”
“Why the hell would she do…” He paused. “Wait. The cheerleading uniform she made me drop off, did it have to do with the dream? Was that why she needed it?”
Ha, so that was how she obtained the uniform. Chayton nodded.
Lucas winced. “I should have questioned her, and not just given what she asked.” He paused, eyes widened. “I think
I can fix this.”
Chayton’s heart jolted hard in his ribcage, and he clutched the warlock by the shoulders. “You can? How? Can you make it as if this never happened? Can you alter time or something?” The desperation in his voice was evident, but he didn’t care. If he had a chance to reverse what happened, he would. Amber would be pregnant, and he could make this work. His thoughts ceased as Lucas shot him a quizzical look.
“No. The damage is done. But I do have a healing spell. It isn’t strong, but it might help with some of her injuries. Maybe even the pain.”
So, there was no way to rewind the clock? Of course there wasn’t. He hoped for a miracle that didn’t exist. “Yes. Anything. I just want her better.”
“Better?” Lucas sneered. “Did you ever think she’d be better off without you?” The warlock barged past him.
He leaned back into the wall and withdrew a broken shoelace from his pocket, the one he’d pried out of her grip. How could he lead a tribe when he had no control over his own life? He failed his wife. He failed his baby. And once again he failed himself. For the first time in seven years, Chayton let the tears fall.
Chapter 17
Soft pounding shook the room. Amber hobbled to the window, the stiffness in her leg prevented her walking with a normal stride. She drew back the curtain with her good arm, captured by the event on the hilltop. Three wolves ran to the crest where a post embedded the ground, then down the slope.
Each smack of their sprinting paws vibrated the floorboards beneath her bare feet. “Three,” she mumbled, sticking her nose to the glass. A grey, a white, and a brown wolf. That explained Howi, Kel and Sani, but where was Chayton, her black wolf?
Ha! Not hers, never hers. Maybe he waited at the bottom for his try in the game. She twisted from the window, and caught her reflection in the cheval mirror. Bruises no longer marred her skin. Relieved from the casts, only her right arm was replaced with a sling.
It had been two days since she left the hospital. After the spell Lucas performed, Doctor Marcom didn’t want the other nurses becoming suspicious about her quick recovery and released her under the explanation she would receive at-home care.
Her brother’s spell helped a great deal, healing most of her injuries and pain…but not the ache in her chest at the loss of her unborn child.
She traipsed into the hall and checked her phone for any missed calls or messages. Her body tensed, anxious to learn the results of her fertility. But none of her messages were from the doctor. Light snoring echoed the room, and she paused.
Chayton sat at the dining table, the side of his face flat across the solid wood. Had he slept like this all night? She ambled over and tucked a strand of jet-black hair behind his ear, which gave her a sense of déjà vu, recalling the first night he slept in her cousin’s home. Dark eyes fluttered open.
“Why aren’t you at the tournament?” He attended yesterday and she expected he’d do the same today.
He wiped the sleep from his eyes and straightened. “I’m not participating anymore.”
She clutched the back of a chair. Did she hear him correctly? Why would he quit the games? That explained the three wolves. She cleared her throat, and aimed for a confident tone. “If you’re worried about leaving me alone, don’t be. You should go and compete. I’m fine.”
He banged his hands on the table, making her jump. “Why are you talking like this?” he shouted. “Like everything is all right? You don’t even seem upset about the miscarriage.” His voice broke with the words.
So much for her bravado. It glided like a wet bar of soap through clumsy fingers. “Of course I’m upset.” Her voice wavered. “But I don’t know how to act with you, what emotions I’m allowed to show without insulting you. Our relationship is not based on communication. We’re pretty much tiptoeing around broken glass, one slip and we get cut.”
A tear roamed her cheek and she swiped the droplet. “Go to the tournament, Chayton,” she demanded, a solid levelness in her voice.
He stared at the ceiling. “What’s the point?”
She swallowed hard. At last, his words made sense. “You think I won’t be able to become pregnant.” Pain pierced her heart at the thought, and she detested the callous sensation. “Doctor Marcom is waiting for the results. I might still be able—”
“I’m not talking about that, Amber. Let me ask you, are you happy? In all honesty, are you?”
A shiver trembled along her spine. How could she be? She ruined everything. She hurt and disappointed this man over and over. “No. I’m not.”
He nodded, slow and sure. “Neither am I.” Standing in front of her, he secured the sides of her head, eyes closing shut.
She frowned, confused. A wave of dizziness made her unstable knees wobble. Afraid of losing balance, she clung to his shoulders, panting, and riding out the weird experience. Dizziness eased out of every corner of her body. “What just happened?”
He tilted her chin with his index finger. “I’ve returned your magic. I was wrong to take that from you.”
This wasn’t good. First, he refused to attend the games, now he restored her power. “Why?” Fear leaked its way into her soft voice.
He swiped his thumb beneath her eye, studying her face. “You need more rest. The dark circles prove it. Go back to bed and we'll talk later. I need to find Ian."
He lowered, placed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I might be awhile. Can I make you a hot chocolate before I leave?”
She shook her head, and with a short, almost robotic nod, he grabbed his keys and strolled past.
Averting her gaze to the table, she flinched as the front door softly closed. She wasn’t in any condition to run after him, and from the tension radiating off him, he obviously required some alone time. How long had she stood there, gazing at the wooden table? Long enough for the ring pattern on the oak wood to etch into the corners of her mind.
Someone knocked at the front door, snapping her out of her daze. “Chayton,” she called, limping with what little speed she obtained. She swung the door open, and her shoulders sagged.
A man smiled, holding a package. “Amber Johnson?”
“Yes. That is me?”
He handed her the parcel and placed an electric device on top. “Sign here, please.”
She did, her signature a horrible scribble with the wrong hand. Once in the kitchen, she tore at the brown wrapping. A shoebox? Behind the tissue paper sat a pair of Air Jordans. She gasped. “How could I forget?” After she had spoken with Lucas the day of the Dream-Walk, she had purchased these online. A tear ran down her cheek. It was a sign. She knew what she must do.
Tap. Tap. Tap
Could the delivery man have forgotten another package? She opened the front door, and froze. “Stacy.” Amber uncurled her shoulders and stared the brunette square in the eyes. “Chayton is not here.”
Stacy titled her nose. “I’m not here for him.”
“Oh, well then, I won’t waste my time.”
“If I’d known you were pregnant,” she rushed out, gripping the door before Amber could shut it. “I wouldn’t have given you the tea. I just thought you should know.”
Amber glowered, and charged outside, forcing the brunet to tread backward. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m telling the truth.” A frown scrunched her arch-shaped brows. “I love Chayton. I always have, and I’ve only wanted the best for him.”
Amber bit her lip. In the Dream-Walk, Stacy and Chayton were together, young and in love, and if their lives weren’t dependent on a bunch of freckles, things between them wouldn’t have changed. Amber desired the best for him, too.
As painful as it was to admit, she wasn’t the one to make him happy. They might share the same marks, but his heart belonged to another, and she would always be in the way of their high school sweetheart relationship.
“Can you promise me something?”
“What?” Stacy tilted her chin, suspicion darkening her eyes.
Amber forced
the words out. “Don’t ever hurt him.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just promise you’ll never hurt him, you’ll love him and make him happy.”
Something akin to hope danced in Stacy’s dark eyes, and she shuffled forward. “I promise.”
Amber nodded. This was the right choice. Everyone would be better off. A car accelerated up the driveway. Her mother.
Stacy gave Amber an awkward look, then dashed for her own vehicle.
Taylor parked close to the house and watched Stacy drive off. Her mother wore one of her best outfits, complete with a designer handbag and sunglasses. “Who was that, a friend?”
“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to sound so firm, but couldn’t help the irritation prickling her skin.
“Can’t a mother check on her own daughter?” Taylor removed the shades and tucked them in the side pocket of her handbag.
Amber turned for the door. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Amber Christine, you wait one minute. We barely spoke in the hospital, and you know how worried your father and I were.”
She scrunched her nose in distaste. “Yeah, you were worried, for about five minutes, and then you hassled me for creating this mess.”
Taylor huffed. “Oh, stop. I did not.”
“Amber, why is Chayton so upset outside, what did you do? Amber, you should know better than to drink such a tea. Amber, how are you going to impress Chayton with a face beaten like that? Amber, you’ve jeopardised Chayton’s position for Alpha, let’s hope you haven’t jeopardised your relationship. Ring any bells?”
“Sorry for trying to help, but you need guidance in your life, you always have.”
“Guidance!” she shouted, hobbling down the steps. “I needed love. I needed mother-daughter days, I needed you to support me, not judge me on every turn.” She choked back a sob. “I lost a baby, Ma. And from one mother to another, you couldn’t hold me and say everything will be okay. You couldn’t be there for me just this once.”
Taylor’s chin trembled, as though she fought whatever emotion stirred in that ice-maiden heart. “My mother was strict on me, too. I learned at a very young age affection is for the weak.”
Hateful Desire Page 21
