Hateful Desire
Page 22
“At least that’s one thing you taught well. Because what I’m about to do is going to take all the strength I can get.”
“What?” Her mother stumbled forward. “What are you about to do?”
“I’m leaving Chayton.”
Taylor threw up her hands. “That’s just like you, always the quitter.”
She pointed a finger. “This has nothing to do with quitting, and everything to do with me being selfless, which you know nothing about. I love you, Ma, but I don’t like who you are. Until you can see me as your daughter and not a problem you can fix, then I’ll consider having an actual relationship with you. It took me so long to grow up. I think it’s about time you did the same.”
Taylor rushed forward, eyes darting with panic. “You’re making a mistake. I may not be the greatest mother, but Chayton is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
Inwardly, she froze. Her mother was right, but she wouldn’t tell her that. “I’m sorry you wasted the trip.” She hobbled inside and shut the door. Each step became a struggle, like traipsing across thick mud. It had nothing to do with her injured leg, but with the throbbing pain in her heart.
She snatched her phone off the counter, and hit the name saved in her contact list. Heavy static scratched the line at first, followed by a clear ringing.
“Amber? Is that you?”
The clog in her throat prevented her talking. Her heart shattered, as if the organ slammed into a wall. “Brianna.” A sob broke out with the name. “Oh, please help me.”
****
“What are you doing here?” Ian asked, packing his boxing gloves. He had been giving lessons at the gym for the last year. Chayton trusted Ian’s technique. After all, Ian had taught him self-defence years ago. Those days had been tough. Not only was Ian a great trainer, but he was like an older brother he never had.
“Last time I checked, I worked here.”
Ian leaned against an empty walk machine. “I thought you’d be with Amber, or at least at the tournament. So, I’ll ask you again. What the hell are you doing here?” He crossed his arms.
Tired, weak, and so sick of how his life had transpired, Chayton trudged forward. “I’m not competing anymore.”
Brown eyes widened. “Are you serious? Why not...? Oh shit!” Ian ran a hand through his dark hair. “It’s Amber, am I right? She’s unable to have children?”
“No.” He paced, then stopped. “I don’t know. We haven’t received the results yet.”
Ian’s shoulders sagged. “How’s she doing?”
How should he answer that? To be honest, Chayton didn’t know. Physically, she improved, but the emotional side of her was numb. He couldn’t sense her, and he didn’t know if his own personal turmoil interfered with their link. He remembered her expression this morning; she was upset about the loss of their baby. If only he could make it up to her. But his every thought ended with her brother’s bitter words. Amber would be better off without him. A selfish side of him, however, refused to let her go. She belonged to him, always would, and he wanted to keep her forever.
“Health wise, she’s fine,” he finally answered. “But we haven’t spoken much since the day of the Dream-Walk. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even look her in the eyes.”
“And why’s that?”
His mouth twisted. “Guilt, anger. All sorts of messed up shit.”
“Anger at her?” Ian asked.
“No, at myself for letting things get this far, for not telling her the truth. And I’m angry at Stacy for tricking her into drinking the damn tea.”
His friend placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Go home and sort this out with your mate.”
“I can’t, at least, not right now. Can I stay at your place for a few days?”
Ian blinked once. “Hell, no.”
“What?”
His friend grabbed two towels disregarded on the cycle machines, dumping them into the towel bin. “You heard me. You have a mate who was recently released from the hospital. What dilemmas can you sort out if you’re not there?”
“I ask you to take me in, to help me out, and this is what you do? What type of friend are you?”
“The best, and you know it. She’s your mate, Chay. Go home, make things right…before it’s really too late.” Ian slumped into a chair and took a swig of water. His gaze shifted to the side, a faraway look shadowing his eyes.
Chayton snickered. “I’ll remember this the next time you ask for a favour.”
“Naw, I love you, too, buddy,” Ian called when Chayton marched off. He didn’t bother waving goodbye to Gwen when he passed the reception desk, and raced to his car in the parking lot. Tires screeched while he sped onto the main road. Why would fate be so cruel to place him with Amber Johnson? This bond would have turned out for the better if she had been someone else, anyone else.
The truck trembled to a stop when he thrust the stick in park, and jumped out of the vehicle. But he paced, not quite ready to set foot into the house. When he at last calmed, and his emotions were under control, he exhaled, and climbed the steps.
A plastic sheet was taped to the broken window and would remain that way until he could be bothered calling a repairman. The cottage was silent…too silent. A black box sat on the coffee table with a note. Heart pounding in his ears, he snatched the paper and lowered to the sofa.
Dear Chayton,
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. An apology may seem worthless, but I truly am sorry for every single thing I’ve ever done and all I want is the best for you. I know what’s inside this box cannot rectify all my wrongdoings, but I hope this gives you a new start.
All the best,
Amber.
She left him. The lump in his throat became impossible to gulp. Breath ceased in his lungs when he lifted the lid. A pair of leather sneakers stared back, shoes he hadn’t seen in years.
Footsteps seized behind him. He hoped his imagination didn’t play tricks, and wheeled around. Amber stood in front of the kitchen, rose-gold hair tied in a loose ponytail and blue eyes red and puffy.
“I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. I was about to throw the note, you weren’t meant to read it.”
He strode toward her without realising he’d moved. “So, that means you’ve changed your mind. You’re staying.”
She shook her head, and a few strands fell loose. “No, I’m not. I’ve been a coward most of my life and that must stop. To do so, I have to tell you to your face I’m leaving.” She waved the cell phone in her hand. “I was about to call you and ask you to come home.”
Someone knocked at the front. Whoever arrived was probably here to take Amber away. He stormed over and opened the door. The oldest man he’d ever seen was on his porch. Deep-set wrinkles and shades of brown age spots covered unnatural yellowish skin. Bristle-white hair fell past his elbows, and his eyes were a kind brown. He wore a black billow-sleeved shirt and dark pants.
“Mr. Locklear,” he said in a croaky voice. “It’s good to see you again.”
Again? He’d never seen this man in his life. “Who are you?”
A shadow in the corner of his eyes surged forward. No, not a shadow, but Amber’s cousin, Brianna.
“Wow, Lord Sylvestre,” she said. “You truly are unrecognisable in sunlight.”
“Lord Sylvestre, is that really you?” The leader of the vampires was at his doorstep. He appeared so different from when he last saw…of course, Sylvestre was an Impure, and the natural age of an Impure became exposed in sunlight.
“So this is what a vampire who’s lived for thousands of years looks like,” Brianna said, her voice in awe.
“Brianna?” Amber called from the kitchen.
The blonde’s head shot up, and she stormed past him. Chayton followed her into the cottage. Amber’s lower lip puckered when she spotted her cousin, and she ran to her.
“Hey,” Brianna murmured, wrapping her in a hug. “Oh, sweetie. It’s okay now. I’m here.”
“Don’t apologise,” Brianna said, wiping Amber’s tears with her palm. “I love you. I’d do anything for you.”
Amber cocked a brow at the wrinkled old man standing in the living room. “Is that Tristan?”
Brianna smirked. “No, that’s Lord Sylvestre, Leader—”
“—of the vampires,” Amber finished. “I’ve heard of him. Where’s Tristan?”
The loving cousin tucked a strand behind Amber’s ear. “It’s daylight. If Tristan came, he’d suffer burns. Lord Sylvestre volunteered to help since sunlight only proves his age.”
Amber nodded, her gaze at last observing Chayton. Face red, eyes and nose puffy, and yet he couldn’t conjure a more beautiful image.
“Give me a moment.” She bypassed Brianna and approached him.
Her chin trembled, and he forced his arms to remain by his sides. Deep down, he craved to haul her to him and never let go. Unable to help himself, he cupped her soft face. “You said you weren’t going anywhere.” The low harshness of his whisper revealed his desperation.
He remembered the night they made love. She had whispered the reassurance against his mouth, like a declaration she was forever his. So, yes, he had a right to confront her with the promised words.
Bright blues shone with tears, as if recalling the moment. A sharp pang assaulted his insides. Her pain. At last, he felt connected to her again…just as he was about to lose her.
“I can’t stay. I can’t live my life lying anymore, I’m sick of it.” Warm hands encased his larger ones. “Be happy, Chayton. Promise me you’ll be happy.”
He couldn’t gaze at her. Even if he longed to, it was impossible with the heat engulfing his eyes. She brushed his knuckles in a chaste kiss, and he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting to keep his emotions subdued.
Her hand slipped out of his, and the soft taps of her retreating steps made him wince. He blinked back the tears, and glanced at the centre of the room. Amber waited beside her cousin and Lord Sylvestre.
Was this the last time he’d ever gaze upon his woman? Would this be the last image of her, surrounded by the two dressed in black, ready to flash her from his life forever? Chayton sucked in a breath. He would never have the privilege to be the reason for her smile, or be able to raise a family with her, grow old with her…make love to her.
Trembles raked him, but he didn’t dare move. He wouldn’t take her freedom. In the last few weeks he’d no doubt confused her with his yoyo of emotions and attitude. She wanted to leave, and he’d at least permit her that. But how would he survive this? “Amber,” he whispered.
She whirled around. Tears hovered at her chin, and she raced to him. He wrapped her in his embrace, careful with her injuries. Their cries muffled in unison, and their pounding hearts beat against each other. She kissed the side of his neck, and he did the same to her forehead.
A mutual understanding formed, and a part of him took comfort in the goodbye. As difficult as it was, he preferred to hold her one last time rather than watch her flash out of his living room.
“I’m sorry I have to do this.”
He stroked the silky strands of her hair. “Don’t. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
With a quick brush of her lips over his, she eased from his embrace and retreated to the centre. The leader of the vampires placed his hands on Amber and Brianna’s shoulders.
Chayton shuddered, determined not to drag his mate to his side. Their bodies faded into ghostly forms, until evaporating altogether. With his woman gone, he sank to his knees as a pain-filled sob vibrated the cottage.
Chapter 18
The darkness was not peaceful or comforting in any sense, but he preferred silence rather than facing the light of day. Chayton buried his face into the pillow. The scent of fabric softener greeted each inhale. He’d changed the sheets after Amber left.
The slightest memory of her struck a shivering pulsation deep inside, and her fruity fragrance had been so prominent in his bed, like a stain of sorrow, a reminder of what he’d lost.
He couldn’t handle the wonderful smell and yet not having her. This way was better, this was reality.
The wooden bedside table vibrated a nanosecond before his ringtone echoed off the walls. “Oh, just stop,” he groaned, recognising the personalised tone, Ian.
How many times had he tried calling? Chayton shot a hand from under the covers and fiddled in the darkness for the small device.
“What,” he snapped into the phone.
“Chayton? Are you still in bed?”
“What do you want?”
“There’s an emergency at the gym. You’re required here ASAP.”
He knocked his head against the pillow. “Fix the situation yourself, I’m busy.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are, just like you’ve been busy these last three days. But I insist you be here in the next ten minutes or I’ll stop by. Don’t forget, I have a set of keys.”
“Don’t you dare…Ian? Ian!” He’d hung up. “Dammit.”
He threw off the covers, switched on the lamp and leaped out of bed. A grey shirt lay on the floor and he donned the cold material while withdrawing a pair of black sweatpants.
Snatching his keys, he stormed out of the room. He loved his friend, but Ian would regret dragging him out of bed. The piercing sun made him squint when he dashed outside, and he shielded his eyes, hopping into the truck. He dumped his wallet and phone in the glove compartment and sped out of the driveway.
Within a few minutes, he entered the gym parking lot, unconcerned with occupying two car spaces. He slammed the driver door and jogged inside.
“Hi, Chayton. I didn’t know you were coming in today. I would have…”
He didn’t even acknowledge Gwen and strode past the reception, down the hall, and into his office. Ian was seated, back to him, and staring out the window.
Slow and deliberate, his friend swivelled in the chair, reminding him of a Don out of a Mafia movie. But instead of a glass of brandy in one hand, Ian held a juice-box.
“Well, well, well, how good to see you, Mr. Miserable. I expected you to be at Howi’s celebration party last night.”
“You didn’t drag me here to talk about Howi winning leadership. What’s this about, Ian?”
The annoying slurping sound shrivelled the box in his hand. “This is about getting your ass out of bed, you lazy mutt.”
Tension solidified his body. “Are you serious? You called me here for nothing?”
“No.” Ian sprang off the chair. “Not nothing. The problem is outside, let me show you.” He used the empty juice-box as a basketball and fired the scrunched container into the bin.
In no mood for his stupid games, Chayton stormed out, passed clients using aerobic machines, and the painter who worked on the juice bar. He pushed open the backdoor, and rubbed a hand down his face. The roughness of stubble scratched his skin.
Staff cars sat parked across, right beside the huge dumpsters. “This better be important. You said it’s an emergency.” He spun and breath caught in his lungs.
The fire hose connected to the side exit now rested in Ian’s firm hands. He must have snatched the damn thing on their way outside. Ian’s dark eyebrows rose. “I assure you, this is an emergency.”
The simple tone made Chayton rigid with unease. He raised his palms. The calm gesture should have made his friend lower the thick, grey pipe. Instead, his grip tightened. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Wakey wakey.” Ian tugged the lever. Water surged forth, sucker-punched him in the stomach, and he staggered backward.
A growl thrummed his vocals, black claws stretched from each fingertip. He bared his canine teeth, and Ian released the lever, ceasing the spray.
“Naw, who’s an angry wol
f?” He sprayed a second time.
Chayton fell on his ass, fists pounding the asphalt beneath him. “Ian!”
He stopped, slinging the hose over his shoulder. “Had enough?”
Cold, wet, and royally pissed off, he glared. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Funny.” Ian rolled his eyes. “That’s my question to you. You find your mate, your one and only, and you let her leave.”
He rose from the puddle and wiped his face with forceful hands. “She wanted to leave, and I wasn't about to stop her.”
The pleasant playfulness in Ian’s features hardened into frustration. “You were meant to fight for her.” He shrugged and observed the blue sky. “You act like you don’t care. I thought you were beyond your differences, but you never cared for her, did you?”
How dare he! Ian had no idea what suffering he endured, and talking about his dilemma made the sensation worse. The pain he’d ignored in these last few days now resurfaced, fresh and new.
Chayton charged, arms circling Ian and knocking him to the ground. He secured Ian’s collar with his fists, and jerked. “Don’t act like you know how I feel. I hated seeing her leave, it killed me, still is.”
Brown eyes slitted. “Then go to her. You think she’s happy without you? She’s your mate, Chay.”
He shoved him in the chest and stood. “Did you ever consider she’s better off?”
His friend huffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I was not good enough seven years ago, and nothing has changed. I destroyed our bond before it had a chance to grow, and now I’m too late. I’m a loser, always will be. I don’t know about you, but I say Amber deserves better than some nobody.”
Ian glowered and groaned. “You fool. You know what’s too late? This,” he said, jumping to his feet and lifting his shirt. “This is too late.”
A U-shaped scar marked his hip. The same U he once recognised as Ian’s birthmark now shined pink, like a blister. “Why is your mark scarred?” Oh shit. “That means your mate—”
“Is dead,” he finished, his tone soft and miserable. “Whoever she was is now dead.”