Olar laughs. “You know Nate doesn’t lie low.”
I think to ask ‘what’s going on that would cause him to lie low,’ but hold it, too afraid to peep a word around these strangers.
They chat, and no one speaks to me or looks at me again. I try to ignore them as they scope out the girls and comment on their latest “bagging” encounters. I guess if women had more respect for themselves they’d treat us more like trophies instead of condoms—Cum in and toss away.
Noticing the wavering glares that shoot at me from the girls passing, I realize I may be taking up too much of Olar’s space. To them, it probably doesn’t look like I’m only leaning on my cousin.
“Sorry,” I tell Olar, straightening. I also may be cock blocking.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You were saving me from a few frequent flyers I’ve been trying to avoid.” No sooner than I walk away, a leggy brunette takes my place.
I come up on Glen and Scott dancing near the fire. Grabbing her shoulder, I ask, “Can we go now?” She frowns, never stopping her dirty-dancing-grinding with Scott. “Why’d you bring me to a party knowing I can’t talk or dance with anyone? This isn’t fun for me,” I tell her. She flips her hair and turns away from me, pretending to ignore me. “You’re an ass, Glen.”
“Hey! Don’t I know you?” comes from a voice that’s all too familiar. Its owner taps my shoulder.
I face loudmouth, Melissa—a girl who’s stopped by Nathan’s house and caused ruckus—and three other girls. One redhead I recognize as Annabelle, with whom Melissa shared Nathan. They both have their fun with calling and texting Nathan at all hours of the night. He doesn’t give either of them an ounce of his attention, but they don’t give up.
I look over my shoulder at her. “No. You don’t,” I say, turning back to Glen, who’s now stopped dancing to give her attention to my encounter.
“Yes, I do. You’re my ex-boyfriend’s new toy.”
Toy! Turning back around, I peacefully say, “I told you, you do not know me. And he was never anything to you.” This is about to escalate to into a confrontation I know I should avoid. But because I’m already on my last straw, I can’t just turn the other cheek and walk away. I need to release the anger, and I wouldn’t mind releasing it on her.
Her tanning-bed bathed arms fall to her sides. “That’s not what I remember him saying. And I guarantee you he’ll remember me long after you’re gone. And know, doll, he thinks about me while he’s with you. Count your days, darling.”
Girls must think lines like that work when they’re old news. I laugh. She doesn’t make me mad, but boy does she get under my skin. I turn away, leaving her before I do something I’ll later regret.
“That’s right, you stupid wench, walk off.”
“Oh no, she didn’t,” Glen mutters.
Whipping around, I spit, “You weren’t shit, but pu—” A sledgehammer of a fist crashes down on my mouth.
I stumble back, grabbing my chin. My blood boils as my hand falls away from my throbbing mouth, splatters of crimson tent my blackening palm. Dammit, this girl packs a punch. I lick the corner of my mouth, tasting metallic. It stings. Fuming with anger, I eye her, weighing my options. She picked a great day to make me mad.
Lifting my foot from the ground to go after her, I retract.
“Don’t do it, Tracey,” Olar warns, pushing down my drawn back fist.
“Well, if Tracey can’t do it, I sure as hell will,” Glen says from my side, pushing past Olar.
Before she can gather two steps, Scott has his arm wrapped around her waist. “You won’t either,” he says, pulling her back.
Loudmouth talks good stuff on the other side of Olar. I press my palms together, pleading, “Olar, you need to let me do this. Please?”
“No, Tracey. You might kill that girl. And you’re mad about other things, too. Let Nathan know you’re okay, even if he doesn’t respond.”
I ignore him. If Nathan cared, he’d be here.
Glen tries to pull away from Scott. “Olar, move. She hit her first and deserves to get her ass handed to her.”
Loudmouth laughs, saying, “She will be handling nothing.” Her friends follow in her titters. “Too short, tell my man I said to come find me when he’s kicked you to the curb.” She winks and flashes her whitening strip smile.
Turning to Glen, I nod, saying, “I’m gonna blast her.”
“Do it,” she encourages.
“Tracey, do not do that here,” Olar says, chuckling.
Goosebumps pinch my skin as my mate’s demanding presence takes over this area. I alternate between feeling happy, angry, and sad because I know he will find a way to talk me out of introducing loudmouth’s face to my fist and then the ground.
As Olar’s turning around, I veer around him, watching Nathan approach Melissa. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he says to her. “How hard is it for you to back the fuck off?”
Melissa peeps a rebuttal, and Nathan waves her off.
“You were just a good blowjob and a quick fuck. That’s it.” Pointing past her to me, he says, “She’s a heartbeat.”
Melissa stands silently. I can’t see her face, but she shifts her weight and her right hand whips back. Before it can fly at Nathan, I rush forward and grab her wrist. “Don’t make tonight worse on yourself,” I warn her.
She’s a hair shorter than Nathan and decided today that she’ll take it easy on the make-up, but dressed like a Barbie doll. I have every intention of jumping up there and jabbing her right in that perfect, plastic surgeon structured nose.
Melissa snatches her wrist from my hand, smiling at me. “What are you, like, four-two? You’re an elf, darling. No comp.”
Although I should ignore her and walk away from this, she hit me first. And it’s only right to stand up for myself. I stop a slap flying toward my face and jab my fist in her jaw, hurting my hand. She flies back, hitting the ground. I tried not to put that much force behind it. Once on her feet, she charges at me. We go jab for jab before we hit the ground. She falls on top of me, and I flip us over. With my knees planted in the dirt, I kneel over her, and I try my hardest not to crush her face under my punches. I hear a couple of cracks, and before I can draw back again, Nathan pulls me away.
Leaking blood from her mouth and nose, Melissa fumbles to her feet, helped by a blonde who’s wearing the same outfit as she is.
Looking me over, Nathan wipes my face and pulls grass, hay, and whatever else from my hair. Glen stands behind me, dusting off my back and encouraging my horrid behavior. “You needed to whoop somebody’s ass today, Cey. It was either going to be Nathan’s, Roehl’s, or that giant woman. Don’t feel bad.”
“Nathan!” Melissa shouts. I hate hearing his name come from her. I twist around. “I called Nathan, not you!” Her jaw is swollen but her bleeding has stopped. Knowing she’ll be okay, I don’t feel as bad.
“I don’t care who you were talking to. The next time you speak to him, I’ll make sure you can’t open your mouth period.”
Nathan nudges my arm. “That’s harsh, babe. You sound like me.”
“It’s the bond. I don’t like her talking to you and being all, he’ll come back to me after he drops you.” Looking away from him back to Melissa, I chaff, “Do you have something to say, Melissa?”
She analyzes my threat as her friends pull her to walk away. Rolling her eyes, she follows suit. I turn back to Nathan, digging the dirt from under my fingernails. “Dumb broad.”
“Feel better?” he asks, nodding for me to follow him.
I stroll at his side. “A little. Thanks. What about you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I drag my gaze away from him, listening to the noise of the crowd lessen as we add distance between the party and us.
definite maybe
Instead of riding back to Nathan’s house with Glen, I convince Nathan we should walk back. It’s quite a walk, heading through the forest instead of dow
n the main roads. We need the time and the fresh air. Although, strolling hand-in-hand for the past twenty-five minutes in complete silence is uncomfortable.
“I love you, Nathan.” My icebreaker.
Nathan sucks in a breath. He releases it, saying, “I know, Sparks.”
“Well. . .” I carry on. “I’m sorry.”
He slowly shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”
I shrug and draw my arms behind my back. “It is. You just don’t want me to feel bad about it.”
“No, that’s not it. I could’ve prevented all of this a long time ago.” He tries to cover the distress in his voice with a sigh.
“That may be true. But you made the decision you needed to at the time.”
Evenly, he drones, “That is not an excuse.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I tell him. He flicks his gaze to me, then away. By the peacefulness of his voice, I can’t tell he’s upset, but he feels like it.
“I am. But with good reason.”
I study him, searching his face for some kind of answer. A hint of doubt lies heavily in a slight twitch of his right eye. “I don’t want him.”
He sighs and time slowly ticks by before he says, “Sparks, you do.”
“Nathan, I don’t,” I reply too loudly.
“Tracey,” he barks my name in the dominating tone he uses that I hate so much. Daunting words stick behind his dark eyes. He breaks his gaze away from me, stuffing his free hand in his pocket.
“What?” I pry. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me, Nathan.” I have the slightest idea of what it could be, but a stinging hurt lies behind his deep brown eyes along with whatever the truth is or whatever he’s holding back. He drops my hand and cold washes over me. I shiver, rubbing my hands over my arms.
Gaining a few steps ahead of me, he huffs, thrusting his hands through his hair. They rub down over his neck and grab at his inner shoulders where he usually holds most of his tension. Turning back around, he lets his arms fall to his sides, but his lips remain sealed.
I grow impatient, watching him literally juggle telling me or not. Heavy breaths further his stall.
It must be bad.
What could be worse than him telling me he’s part demon and killed innocent people for the hell of it? Worse than what I’ve seen him do?
“Sparks, don’t,” he states aggressively.
“Well, tell me what’s going on.”
He breaks our gaze and continues walking, turning his back on me. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sparks.”
“Ugh, tell me,” I say as calmly as I can. I can’t figure him out. I get it; he has a lot going on, and I probably make it no better because I have a lot going on. But he needs to stop being so sheltered, so blocked off from me.
He looks over his shoulder with a face void of all expression. “You do want him.”
“Are we arguing about this? You know I don’t,” I defend, annoyed and high-pitched.
Twisting around, he admits, “You dream about him, Sparks. Often.”
“I don’t,” I snip in distaste. “The only time I even acknowledge him is when he’s in my presence or has just left.” Mostly . . .
“You wouldn’t know.”
Scowling, I ask, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I take them away,” he calmly confesses, as if we’re talking about scrambled eggs for breakfast.
He’s bullshitting me. There’s no way I can dream about Roehl. I only remember dreaming of Nathan and me or nothing at all. I think . . .
“I erase them,” he says, hurt so thick in his tone his voice shakes. He clears his throat. I watch him rubs his hand down his face, wiping away the hint of discomfort he held for that split second.
“Why haven’t you told me this?”
Throwing his arms out as at his sides, he aggressively says, “How do I tell my lady she’s dreaming of another man? And that when she dreams of him, she’s happy about it? That I don’t cross her mind, not once? And only to keep her from worrying about it or thinking about it while she is awake because I can’t stand seeing it, I erase it from her mind completely?” The anger in him plays with his words as he tries to remain calm. A low rasp’s in his voice that I can tell wants to escalate into a growl to release his animosity.
I could say he’s lying for argument’s sake, but I know he isn’t. Though I wish he was. Honestly, I can believe every single word. I know Roehl’s frequent pop-up visits in my mind while I’m awake, sitting in class, while I’m in my room, or eating dinner. He makes me daydream about him, instilling within me a desire to touch or see him. It’s all true. I just don’t want to admit it to Nathan.
“So, what, Sparks?” Nathan jerks a shrug, grabbing back my attention. “I told you!” he snaps. “You feel better now?” Fury flashes in his eyes as his brows snap together, and he gnaws on his bottom lip. The pain from him doing so keeps him from spazzing out.
His anger is as surprising as my realization of Roehl’s truth in my life, and exactly what this means.
I part my lips to speak, and he raises his hand, saying, “Don’t, Sparks. It’s not your fault.” He tilts his head back, and his anger passes. His voice returns to its modulated tone, as if he didn’t just practically blow up a second ago. “Don’t worry about it.”
I don’t like him blocking me out.
Again, he turns his back on me and continues onward, crunching broken branches under his steps. I follow behind him, biting my tongue. I don’t want to ask any more questions, nor do I want to feed into his impassive mood. I want to say sorry, but that doesn’t seem right. He’s right. How does a couple talk about one of them desiring someone else? Is that even a conversation couples should have?
We’re nowhere near the house. Rather, I just don’t know my surroundings. With a my-size body width space between us, we don’t touch. We only walk in the night with each other’s confusion and anger bouncing between us like a Ping Pong ball.
The half-moon sits lonely in the barren dark blue. It’s the only light we have to illuminate our desolate path of trees and shrubs. The forest sounds with the wind, fresh leaves shaking in the cool breeze. I cross my arms to combat the chill. Besides the small sounds of night critters, it’s the only other thing that comforts the silence. Strikes of light draws my attention to the mountains in the distance where a storm appears to hover. A quiet rumble of thunder shakes my eardrums. The clouds are thick and darker than the night blue sky as they roll in, heading for us.
Nathan’s mild-mannered tude annoys me. My life would be so much easier if he’d just let me in his head.
“Sparks, you don’t want to be in my head,” he responds to my thought.
“Well, you are clearly in mine.”
“Not now,” he warns.
“Nathan.” I reach over, grabbing his hand, stealing the anger from him. “I love you. No one can change that or take me away from you. My heart in your chest only beats for you.” I pull him to a stop. “I know right now it may appear otherwise, but believe me, I only need you. I’m sorry doesn’t justify what I’ve done, but if I could do anything to change this, I would.”
He looks down at me, remorsefulness and annoyance resting in his deep brown swirl. “It’s not something you can control, Sparks,” he says, cold and composed. He speaks to me as if I’m one of his victims he’s taking it easy on, and I hate it.
“Then help me control it and stop turning away and leaving me. I don’t know what to do about this. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want this!” I try to ignore the aggravation flaring in me, not wanting this to escalate into another argument.
He shakes his head. “I’ve done what I can.”
I spread my hands, asking, “What do you want me to do?”
“There’s nothing you can do. Just time.”
“Well, you do something, Nathan! Gah, you’re hurting this situation more than you’re helping it!” I say hostilely. He has no be
tter answer than just time! Whatever the hell that means. He breaks away from me, leaving once again. “Nathan, stop walking away from me!”
“I just can’t right now, Sparks,” he says from his throat, still containing that rumble in his chest and the tension in his neck. There’s more he isn’t telling me.
“Nathan?” I call, enunciating with an internal demand that forced him to give me his attention. A mate’s calling that can’t be ignored. I picked up on it earlier, and I know he hates it, but I have some control too, and dammit, I’m going to use it.
He halts, shoulders high and tight. Slowly, he turns on his heels, glowering at me. “Sparks, I’m not going there with you right now.”
“No! You tell me what it is. And tell me without all that damn breathing and stalling,” I demand, pointing toward the ground.
He silently stares at me, not at all faltered by my attempt at intimidation.
“Now, Nathan, dammit!”
He throws his head back, scraping his nails across his beard. “Last night.” He shrugs, rubbing his hand down his neck. “You called out to him . . . strongly,” he says with emphasis that causes his voice to deepen. “Your body craved for him.” His sober eyes meet mine. “He came for you, and once he called your name, you jumped out the window to get to him. I was out right behind you. He caught you, and I yanked you from him.” Nathan stalls, knitting his brows. “You fought me,” he says the word in a whisper. “Really fought me. Blasted me and everything.” His left hand pushes over his chest. And no sooner than his distress shows, it wipes away. Shrugging, he clears his throat, and unaffected, concludes, “He laughed and held me still. No one can do that. I was so damn distracted. You smiled at me, happy I was stopped, glad I could no longer take you from him. You willingly left me for him.”
I throw up my hands, waving them in front of me. “Stop, Nathan, don’t say it. Don’t say anything else,” I cut him off. My stomach can’t take much more truth.
Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2) Page 22
