"Since we’re on the subject of family, tell me more about your father?”
"You just want me to kiss you. All you have to do is ask, no need to play a game," Hunter teased.
"No, I want to punch you," she replied seriously. "Are you going to answer?"
"Remember I told you my father was a great man, but he was also too giving to a fault. He saved Castor, Theo and Melita, but he always wanted to play a hero.” He un-popped the lid of Gatorade, and squirted a stream down his throat.
“Who else did he help?”
“Is there a specific question you want to ask?”
Luxor yawned and rubbed her eyes, acutely aware time was ticking away, and her family was the last thing she wanted to talk about.
“Let’s get you back.”
“No, no. I like it here.”
Hunter rested his head against the bark of the tree, his hands clasped within each other on his chest. "Everybody has issues, we are all screwed up in one way or another, we either claw our way through it and find the light, or let the darkness consume us." His tone was sombre and dejected as if he was self-analysing. "Lay down."
Luxor raised her eyebrows, not believing what he was asking of her. "Since when did you become philosophical?"
Hunter tapped again with vigour. "Like I said I've seen and done things and you learn...the majority of the time."
She sighed, and slumped her shoulders. Scooting down, she hesitantly laid her weary head on his lap. If Hunter tried anything, she would punch him knuckle down in the one place it would hurt the most. "What if that person is too far gone?"
"Do you want to confess your sins?"
"It was a generalised question."
"Nobody is ever one hundred percent evil, hell I bet the devil has redeeming qualities." Hunter twirled her hair around his finger. "Compared to me, you're a saint."
"Hmm mmm." Was all she could manage, but her thoughts said Cane would never be deserving of redemption.
Her shoulders loosened, her body rested up, yet it hit a state of adrenaline coursing through her body. It was the little touches, the strokes of her hair, the constantly asking if she was comfortable, that drew her closer. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she concentrated on the rhythm of her breathing.
Five minutes, that's all I need.
"Don't go to sleep Angel, it's almost time to go back." Hunters warm breath breezed along the shell of her ear.
"Hunter, what are you doing?" Luxor called out as she jogged forward.
Up ahead, Hunter was knee deep in the riverbank, swishing his hands about, zoned out and seemingly unaware she continued to call him. She picked up a twig and lobbed in forward.
"Damnit." Hunter turned around, the twig hitting him square in the back. He climbed out and shook the excess water off.
"You don't play nice Angel, let's see how you like it." Hunter stalked forward, a flash of mischief behind those alluring toffee eyes. Before she could run away, he seized her, his arms caging her in. "Say sorry, or else."
"Or else what?" she taunted.
He twirled her around, and with ease lifted her up over her shoulders. "Say sorry."
"No way." Luxor giggled. She was tipped upside down, her hair all over her face but she couldn't help the laughter.
"Then you must pay the consequences."
Even though she wasn't physically on the ground she sensed they weren't on the grass. When she saw the rippling water from her distorted vision, she kicked her legs out, banging her fists on Hunter's back.
Luxor yelped when there was stinging slap on her backside. "You did not just spank me."
"Oh please, you probably enjoyed it." His laugh reverberated through her body.
Before Luxor could punch him again, she was dumped in the frigid water, submerged backwards. When she came up, she splattered and coughed out the salty liquid. She waded through the water and climbed out, pushing her stringy hair out of her face.
"I can't believe you did that!" Luxor snapped, removing the jacket.
"But you can punch and kick? Double standards don't you thin…" Hunter's words trailed off, his eyes widening.
"What?" Luxor followed his line of sight, and gasped. She froze, and covered her breasts to hide her modesty.
In her haste to remove the jacket that held her down she didn't realise she was revealing her nightwear.
Hunter gulped, both of them idle, and neither daring to move.
After goose bumps formed on her skin, she covered herself with the blanket from under the tree, and sat on the grass. "Well you've finally seen me wet." She smiled and leaned her head on her arms.
He hesitantly moved forward, keeping eye contact to access what she might be thinking. He was an expert at reading body language, and right now she wasn't giving off negative vibes.
"If it's any consolation, you still are beautiful." His voice was soft and comforting.
"Wow, can I get it recorded? You might deny it later on," she replied sarcastically.
"Come here." He wiggled his forefinger.
"No, I don't trust you. Who knows what you'll do next.”
"You really do think the worst of me, don't you?" Ignoring her comment, he crawled on his knees to be as close as possible. Taking initiative, he moved in slowly, his hand rested below her ear, his lips in the crook of her neck. "O Theós eísai ómorfi. And I won't deny it."
Luxor closed her eyes, absorbing the words to remember them, his thumb caressing her cheek. Why did she care if he thought she was beautiful? It was one person's opinion. But it did matter, his words mattered.
When she didn't move away, he nuzzled her neck and lay a soft feather kiss at the back of her ear. She dug her nails into the ground, her breath hitched in her chest. Hunter smiled against her skin and kissed below it. "Open your eyes," he whispered, his warm minty breath fanning her face.
Luxor fluttered her eyes open. "Was that a punishment?"
"Was it horrible?" his voice was hoarse.
Luxor shook her head, if anything she wanted more. "Close your eyes."
Without another word Hunter did as she asked. Her hands trembled, as she neared him, her hands laid on the side of his face. There was no space between them, her nose against his, and before she could back out, she gently placed her lips against the softness of his.
Hunter's eyes flitted open, and burned a deep copper. She could feel the drumming beating of his heart against her chest, and his hands entangled in her hair.
Luxor pulled him in, her hands around her neck, and closed her eyes. His lips brushed against hers, teasing as he runs his tongue along her bottom lip asking for access. Her lips parted, his tongue slipping in her warm mouth. As if they were made for each other, they moulded and worked in perfect synchronisation. Scorching hands snaked up her spine, a burn trail being left in its wake.
Luxor never wanted the moment to end. She wanted to continue to savour him, to lose herself and let everything ebb away, yet she was scared. Not only had she never done this before, but she didn't want Hunter to get hurt...like last time.
Around them the wind picked up, the trees swaying with ferocity. Hummingbirds circled above their heads, the males and females, shrilling and chirping, flying low in a dance.
"This is so much better than I'd imagined." His voice low and husky, nipping at her bottom lip. "You taste like apples." He licked his lips.
"Shut up and kiss me more."
Hunter chuckled and leaned in. An electric charge buzzed between them, intense that it robbed her of oxygen. "You're wet. And it's sticky." She felt around but the sizzling had disappeared. And so had he. "It's blue. Wake up Angel." A deep urgency laced his tone. A beeping continued, but she didn't know where it came from.
Luxor was shaken, taking a couple of minutes to snap out of her stupor. She gasped, sitting straight up. "Hunter, where did you go?"
Hunter's hair stuck out in all directions, ruffled and unkempt. He rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm, and stared at her, his eyes wide and anot
her emotion...fear?
Did he fall asleep too?
"Let's go." He scooped up his backpack, and shoved everything back in a haste, holding the bag in front of him. Not waiting for her, he just shook his head mumbling, "It's impossible, how can this be?"
Luxor searched around the tree for the jacket, and after not finding it, jogged to meet up with Hunter. The wind flapped, the hood swaying around, her hands getting lost in the sleeves. Sleeves? Luxor halted.
She had the jacket on. She wasn't wet, apart from a blotch of Gatorade all along the bottom.
So, what the hell happened?
Luxor swayed on the balcony, the infusion of fresh air a great relief. Long strips of bandage unravelled from her arms as she unwound the white cloth splattered with blue dots. She was finally rid of the constriction, and when revealed, her arms had cleared up despite it only being a day since she was locked up in The Renaissance Centre.
To be released, she had to adhere to two stipulations: antipsychotic medication and her therapy sessions to be twice a week instead of once. Back at The Chalet, she was administered one tablet instead of two, Meredith hovering over her until she had swallowed, then abandoned whilst she went to work. The medication was only supposed to be for nights, but Meredith wanted to make sure she wouldn't be trouble day and night. Before the tablets could take full effect, Luxor dashed to her bathroom to the toilet, stuck two fingers down her throat and regurgitated it. She refused to cry, she would bottle everything up, and return back to her method of showing and telling people what they wanted to see and hear.
The Chalet became a bubble of suffocation with her every move monitored and questioned. She rifled through her drawers and cupboards and clumsily threw on a pair of track pants, a long-sleeved top, hoodie and sneakers, all in black. Was it symbolic? Or by chance? Either way, she mourned normalcy more than ever. On a whim, Luxor threw in various pieces of clothing in a backpack, and would keep it at Evie's house. If she could at every opportunity she could stay there, it would make things easier.
Too many things had transpired and she couldn't stay there especially after what Meredith did. And it all started with slipping a sleeping pill into her water and ending up at the Renaissance Centre. When Luxor needed her most, after her nightmare, Meredith did what she was a natural at, shipping her off with someone else to deal with. If Luxor did stay there, she would put a chair underneath her door handle. It wasn't just Meredith who she was running from, it was also the night terrors, and Ayla and Pandora who refused to give her space.
She shoved the last of her clothes into her backpack, and tried to push the thoughts of what was happening to the back of her mind, but it kept re-emerging.
How is it even possible I was in my mother's body possessing it like my own? But most disturbingly it was in the past.
Being transferred into her mother's body and mind was an experience she never wanted to happen again. But it was beyond her control. Was there a trigger? She had wanted answers, and she got her wish, but new questions surfaced, like what was Hunter's father's association.
Was it fate that I met Hunter? Was there even a name for what happened? Was I psychic or plainly psychotic?
I'm losing my mind...the blood, feeling everything, and losing control.
The grey clouds expanded into spoiled marshmallows, demented and ugly, mirroring the day. Luxor tied her hair in a low ponytail and topped it with a baseball cap, pounding the pavement as she headed to the school over. She pushed herself to the limit as if to erase every never-ending lie which had been told. Whenever she assumed her life was heading back on track and the hurt subsided, another slap of betrayal pummelled her back to where she started. She slowed down her pace and lay against the grass to gather her breathing.
How could Meredith keep all this from me? She was there when my mother died. She was the first one to hold me.
"Are you okay?"
Luxor’s eyes flashed open. She sat upright a bit too quickly causing her head to spin slightly and slump back.
Xavier's stared back at her from an upside-down perspective. "Easy now," he said extending his hand. She dusted grass from her hands and rejected his gloved hand. "It'll be better catching your breath sitting up." He was dressed immaculately in a black cashmere jacket, woollen beanie, and dark blue jeans. Luxor slipped on her backpack and made her way across the field towards the Village Bowl. "I'm not doing anything, do you want to join me for some breakfast or maybe a hot chocolate to warm up?"
"I'm busy, maybe another day," she said shortly, avoiding his gaze.
"Luxor." The soft and pleading way he spoke her name stalled her. Her name from his lips stirred a warm and fuzzy feeling within, a relief from the all too consuming sparks Hunter gave her, but like Hunter she craved and hated the effects.
"What's the use of joining you, so you can lie tomorrow that you ever saw me?" She refused to withhold the bitterness in her tone.
Xavier stopped short. "No, I promise I won't. Come even for five minutes."
A sense of serenity swept over her as she created a short pros and cons list in her mind. A part of her wanted to stand her ground, but another part, one which evoked an unshakable emotion ended up swaying her, and she couldn’t determine where it came from. He seemed adamant and curiosity poked, and had her wanting to know why.
Let's see if he's a liar, or keeps his promise.
She tugged her top down and attempted to fix her appearance, and even suggested to meet up with him later after she changed her clothes but he shot it down.
"Relax, you look good," he assured her.
Yeah right.
The Hive buzzed with activity with patrons taking up a great majority of the room. Stools at the counter were occupied, mugs and cups of coffee and hot chocolate steaming from them. Luxor headed straight to the ladies’ bathroom to assess the damage and see exactly how much of a wreck she was, while Xavier ordered their drinks.
The mirror wasn't kind when she surveyed her reflection. Her ponytail had unravelled, and she released the elastic, her platinum hair falling in waves. She turned the tepid water on, and splashed her face over her unusually pale complexion, soothing her cheeks that blushed pink from the cold.
As fast as she could she entered an empty stall swapping her track pants and hoodie, shoving it into the backpack, and retrieved a pain of black low-rise skinny jeans, and a cream V-neck top.
In the next stall, somebody coughed in between spurts of throwing up giving her an even quicker reason to hurry up. Only when she coated her lips with apple flavoured lip gloss did she feel half way presentable to leave.
"Great clothes swap, much better than the trackies." Hunter leaned outside the door a huge smile on his face. He assessed her from her to toe. "Did you do it for me?"
Luxor jumped back and yelped. "Can you stop doing that? What are you doing loitering out here? Are you stalking me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Egotistical much? I'm waiting for the guys."
"Outside of a girl's bathroom?" she said incredulously.
"Melita's in there, she's feeling sick," Hunter replied. "Why do girls take so long?"
Melita, of course. Probably the girl who was throwing up.
"So, did you dress up for me?" he repeated.
"You’re not worthy of making an effort for," she barked, and stepped forward.
He blocked her way. "Ouch." He held his chest in mock offense.
Luxor glowered. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to someone who is."
"Can I explain about the other day?”
"I don't care, just stay away from me,” she spat, trying to contain the volume of her voice. If they were alone, she would have used words that a priest would have a heart attack over.
"Can't, I'm enchanted by you." He smirked, ignoring her outburst.
She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, more cheesy lines. You really should be a topping on a pizza you ooze so much out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somebody waiting for me.”
Hunter narrowed hi
s eyebrows. "Wow. I'll let you get back to that person who’s worth your special attention. Maybe you can share your oh so charming personalities with them." He knocked her shoulder as he passed.
Yesterday after they had woken up from their shared dream, Hunter had fled without a word to her, just a side-ward glance. As soon as the frosted doors opened, Castor was waiting on the other side, and was ordered to, "Be careful." Disregarding his words, Castor was anything but gentle or careful, grasping and twisting her limbs until she was cuffed again.
When Valencia uncuffed her, she questioned her on where the Gatorade came from. Learning from her past and the repercussions of saying, "I don't know," Luxor blamed Dana with great ease who tended to her before her breakout. What made it bearable was instead of being locked up in a padded room, and isolation, she was set up in a room decked out with a flat screen television, Netflix, and a PS4 game console with a large selection of games.
Even though she was urged to communicate with the others in the general population, Luxor refused, not wanting to associate with the real mentally unstable people, especially if Mason was there. She stayed in the double bed all day and watched reality television.
My life is as screwed up as theirs.
The events of the last two days played in her mind; the information about her mother, the visions, and exerting her frustration on the track, it had slipped her mind the extreme lengths Hunter had gone to give her a couple of hours of happiness. But how it ended freaked her out, but more than that Hunter's reaction sent an ache to her chest. They had shared a dream, everything she wanted to happen in reality happened there, and Hunter had the same desire.
But how was it possible? How could the same person I despise, bring me the biggest happiness at the same time?
Luxor turned to meet up with Xavier. Even though he confused and ignored her existence, it was too much dealing with both of them. Ultimately dealing with him was easier, and guarded her heart from Hunter who ultimately would destroy her. That was a fact, and she wouldn't allow it.
Betrayed: The Chronicles of Luxor Everstone Book Two Page 18
