WYLDER

by Kristina Weaver

  “No fair. You made me bring Harri to the house.”

  “Because you’re my little sister and I wanted him to meet Hawk, who made it clear he’s not opposed to murder or death row.” I grin, recalling the exact words Hawk used when he spoke to the little asshole.

  I may not get along with him all the time, but Hawk is a breed all his own. The last guy who tried to intimidate Hawk was in the fourth grade, and no matter how big he was, Hawk won that battle.

  “Fine, but I’m going to tell Mom to harass you about it,” she mumbles through half-chewed bread and salami.

  “Bitch.”

  “Asshole.”

  We both laugh, and I spend the afternoon watching Dare Devil while she pervs over Ben Affleck and his weird nads in that red getup, laughing when she sighs and swears she’d foreswear true love for Ben.

  Taking her home turns out to be a mistake, shoulda shoved the brat on the bus, because Mom comes out when we pull up to the house and makes it clear I am not leaving.

  By the time I get out of there, I’m desperate to run and just call Leila, even if I can’t talk to her past a hello and telling her to sleep well.

  “Hello?”

  “Lay.”

  “What do you want, Lyon?”

  Her tone is stiff and cold, and for a minute I think she’s kidding, until the silence drags so long it gets awkward.

  “Well, I thought I’d call my girl and tell her goodnight…”

  “Oh, yeah? Which girl would that be? What am I, number three, four on the list of girls the great Lyon has on the hook? Do me a favor, okay? Just leave me alone!”

  “Lay—”

  I hear the click before I can ask her what the hell she’s talking about and decide to go over there an hour later when I can’t stand it anymore. Getting into the girls’ dorm at half past eleven at night is not easy. I have to scope the place out for like five minutes and dive into a bush when one of the chicks I didn’t take up on her offer comes out, but I duck in and beat the door, going for the stairs at a run to get to Lay before someone kicks my ass out.

  “Lay,” I whisper, knocking so softly I hardly touch the door.

  It’s useless, but I’m victorious when the door swings open and my girl is standing there looking adorable in a pair of tiny sleep shorts, a vest, socks up to her knees, and huge old lady glasses.

  “What are you doing?” she hisses, pulling me in and checking the hall frantically for witnesses.

  She can get kicked out of the dorm for having a male in her room after ten. I know this, but give me a break. After that phone call, I was going nuts not knowing why she’s upset, and she wouldn’t answer her phone.

  “I came to see you, of course.”

  “Well, I don’t want to see you. I want you to leave and just…leave me alone,” she hisses, giving me a look that makes me feel like scum.

  “What the fuck? What is going on, Lay? I left you smiling this morning—”

  “Oh, just me?” she sneers, shoving me away when I try to touch her. “Or am I just the morning session, asshole? I can’t believe I fell for it. I can’t believe I swallowed all that smooth shit you fed me.”

  “Lay, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’m not happy right now, baby—”

  “Like I care, you…you Casanova! Why don’t you go to your other girlfriend, you pig. Just leave me alone.”

  Her back is to me as she says it, but I hear something in her voice that I am certain is Lay crying. That makes me feel so out of my depth I almost miss that last part.

  Other girlfriend? What the…

  “Baby, I don’t have another girlfriend,” I say gently.

  “Yes, you do! Jan saw you with her this afternoon, and she was all over you and-”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “What a crock,” she mutters, her shoulders shaking so hard I can’t stand it.

  Taking her in my arms, I ignore her struggles and just hold her, my chest thumping when her soft breasts are pillowed against my chest.

  “Lay, I swear that was Sparrow. Did Jan describe her as a tiny little brunette with blue eyes and a Native American looking face? She looks just like Ma, Lay. You thinking she’s my…it’s just gross, Lay,” I mutter into her hair, feeling her melt into me.

  Her eyes are soft and wet when she finally looks up at me.

  “Really?”

  “Really, baby,” I say, taking her soft look at a run and kissing her with all the love I feel.

  God, she tastes good. So good that by the time I lift my head, I’m surprised to find myself on her bed with Lay straddling me.

  “Babe—”

  “Shut up, Lyon. And kiss me.”

  I come out of the memory with Lay’s taste coating my lips and groan when I look up to see her so still and lifeless. My chest hurts with it all, and I can’t stand seeing her so…

  But she’s alive, and that’s all I need right now. The rest will come when she wakes.

  Chapter Four

  Leila

  I panic when I drift out of the memory of our first kiss, the longing to stay a steady pulse that has me struggling to stay, but I hear voices, loud male voices, and I can’t resist the urge to listen.

  “Jesus, man, I can’t believe it’s her, Lyon. When’s the last time you saw Leila?”

  Eight years ago, I think, remembering that day with a resentment that still burns within me. Lyon was out of it for a while before that, his sister’s death hitting him hard, and no matter what I did, he wouldn’t let me in.

  We’d not seen each other for two weeks by that stage, and I was in hell myself, as Mika got so sick from an infection I didn’t spend one minute away from her side.

  We were both hurting, but I was there, or I tried to be there, for him through his grief, while he refused to return my calls the last three days.

  Finally getting through to him, I’d sighed in relief only to hear him slur a hello through the receiver.

  “Lyon.”

  “Lay? That you, babe?”

  He sounded toasted off his ass, but I didn’t care right then because I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe.

  “Lyon, I need you. Please.”

  And that was it because he didn’t say a word, just hung up the phone. That wasn’t the last time we spoke, of course. The real deal happened later that night, but it was the beginning.

  “I don’t want to talk about this, Lynx.”

  “Too bad, Lyon, because we’re here to talk about it. It’s been, what, four days now, and you aren’t saying a word. You look like shit, you stink, and Mom’s crying herself to sleep with worry.”

  I think that’s Hawk I hear, and if I could, I’d smile because I remember how stubborn and downright mean he could be when people didn’t jump to his orders and dance to his tune.

  I only ever met two of Lyon’s brothers, the other two of the trio that is the Wylder triplets, and I adored them both. Where Hawk is hard and unyielding, his beliefs so set in stone he won’t budge a damn, Lynx is the joker of the group.

  They’re all three so different. Maybe that’s why I never got confused, not even once. Lyon is the introspective, quiet one, and most people believed that he was the opposite because he liked to go out a lot and was social.

  That wasn’t him being outgoing or the life of the party though, believe it or not, just Lyon saying that being around people wasn’t always all bad and that he liked watching them in different settings and situations.

  More often than not though, we’d stay in and be together, just like the night he came over to my dorm and kissed me after a crying fit and some truly nasty accusations.

  I want to smile just thinking about that night and how, after telling me I was freaking out about his own sister, he kissed me so good I was desperate for more.

  Buuuut we were in my dorm room, and no way was I doing hot monkey acrobatics with Lyon only to have Jan see it when she snuck in. So, we went to his place…

  “Sssh, if we’re no
t quiet, we’ll wake them, and I won’t ever get you alone. They’re nosey assholes,” he whispers, pulling me into the apartment behind him on tiptoes, his sneaking movements making me stifle giggles behind my hand.

  “Too late, super-spy!”

  I blink when the light turns on suddenly, the brightness turning me blind for a second before it clears and I see a man who looks just like Lyon grinning as he leans against the wall, his only covering a pair of boxers that are not loose enough to hide a thing.

  He’s lazing there, unashamedly showing off, while Lyon snarls and steps in my way, cutting off a sight that has me gaping. Okay, I don’t know what Norse god created these guys, but they are all just…phew.

  “Goddammit, Lynx, fuck off already.”

  “Nope. Hawk, man. Hawk! Come on out here, bro. Come meet Leila before Lyon locks her up in his room and keeps her there the next twenty years.”

  I have to giggle. I just can’t help myself because another one comes strolling out in his underwear, his dark smile making Lyon snarl like a truly rabid animal.

  I expect to see him foaming at the mouth any minute when Hawk leans past him and grins at me.

  “Hey there, hottie.”

  “Hawk!”

  “Whaaaat?” he laughs, giving me a wink.

  I have them all pegged in a minute as I peer past Lyon and get a look at his exact copies. Lynx is built like Lyon, but he’s ever so slightly shorter, by like a millimeter, and he’s got a naughty look that makes me think of the Irish for some reason.

  Hawk is…huge! Not taller, just built like he bench presses trucks as a light workout, and he’s got a harder look about him, even when he smiles.

  “Leila, this is Hawk, the morose bastard I told you about, and I think you’ve already seen Lynx around the site a time or two. He’s mentally challenged and only understands head trauma.”

  “Hey, guys,” I squeak, laughing outright when he catches me looking and slaps my butt with a growl.

  “They’re both ugly. Don’t look, baby.”

  “They are not! They look just like you,” I laugh, sputtering when Hawk gives me a slow-eyed glance and then runs when Lyon takes a step forward.

  “Coward.”

  “Goodnight, Leila! See ya in the morning.”

  “‘Night.”

  Lynx does not take the hint, and I squirm when he keeps staring, his blue eyes speculative.

  “You’re not going to stay with this ass, are you? He’s the slow one. I made better grades all through school. And he picks his toenails like an ape and eats them,” he lies, his eyes stretching on the last words.

  I’m still giggling when Lyon makes a move to tackle him and Lynx darts into his room, laughing so hard I can still hear him when Lyon throws me over his shoulder and carries me into his bedroom.

  “Now, my little jealous kitten, before I kiss you into next week, have you eaten dinner?” he asks, still scowling at the door even when I snort and nod that yes, indeed, master, I have filled my belly with your mom’s delicious cookies.

  It was awful of me to eat them while plotting his death in a tragic campus shooting that is never solved, but they were so good.

  “Okay, then, let the kissing commence,” he growls, coming down on me in a blink.

  I love the feel of him all over me, and the taste of him, coffee and chocolate, is so good I kiss him like I’m starving and he’s the chocolate I crave.

  My lips are wet and tingling when he pulls back what has to be an hour later, and I’m panting and writhing against him, every inch of me on fire for him.

  My nipples are two hard points against the shirt I threw on with no bra, and I see him swallow and lick his lips, staring at my breasts as if transfixed by the sight.

  “I want to lick your nipples so bad.”

  My shirt clears my head so fast I blush and bite my lips, and Lyon huffs out a surprised chuckle at the speed with which I ripped it off. He doesn’t laugh long though, and I moan when all he does is cup the underswell in his left hand and stroke my skin.

  “So pretty.”

  “Lyon.”

  I’m breathless and pushing my chest up, demanding more when he meets my eyes and swallows.

  “I promised I wouldn’t do this until date six.”

  “Screw date six! Date six can kiss my ass.”

  His laugh is loud, and he shakes with mirth as he drops his head to the valley between my breasts, his breath singeing my nipple, making me want harder.

  “I want to kiss your ass. And your boobs. And your sex. I want it so bad, babe, but I promised. I promised I wouldn’t move too fast, and I won’t.” He groans, shaking with lust when I push closer before I can stop myself.

  He’s hard all over and warm where his skin is touching mine. I want to rub myself all over him, touch him all over, and sate myself on his body in ways that aren’t quite moral. But I don’t care because I have never wanted like this and he feels good.

  “It’s only one more date, Lyon. Please,” I pant, pulling his face up to kiss him with all the passion I can muster.

  He groans into my mouth, kissing me back hard as I rub my nipples into his chest, trying to drive him over the edge with my body.

  “Stop. Please, you’re killing me, Lay.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t do it even if my balls are pounding and you ask me to. I made a promise, and I won’t break it. Date six.”

  Shit. Hell. Every other curse word in every language in existence!

  “Breakfast,” I warn, breathing out slowly when he tilts his head inquisitively. “Breakfast counts as date six. I’m not working tomorrow, and my professor is away at a conference.”

  His smile is naughty and oh so predatory when he catches my meaning, and he kisses me again, rubbing his chest all over me with a growl.

  “You better eat fast tomorrow, Leila.”

  “Speed of light, Lyon. Speed. Of. Light.”

  I’m laughing when I lose the thread of that memory and even scream a little because it felt so good and right I didn’t want it to end.

  But all things end, just as that passionate love affair was doomed to right from the start. I don’t blame only Lyon for the way things ended. I was obsessed with going to the hospital by then, my fear and the sorrow I felt bleeding into the relationship like a slow-acting poison.

  Lyon understood it though. At least I thought he did because he was always so understanding and gentle with me after I came to him and cried.

  So, no, I don’t hate him. He got me through some of the worst moments of Mika’s treatments and gave me the strength to walk in there and not cry when I saw her slowly wasting away, the once vibrant girl I loved dying in a way that sometimes made my faith ask why.

  I am grateful for what time we did have, but when it was done, all I had were memories and the tears. I think I would have hated him, truly, if it hadn’t been for his own loss and the pain he suffered.

  He did hurt me though, in a way that I haven’t ever healed from. Eight years on and just the sound of his voice brings it all back. The passion and love and angst that only a true love story can have.

  Being with Lyon was like being possessed. He was inside me even when he wasn’t with me, and I carried his thoughts and dreams with me wherever I went.

  At one point, I wanted to tell him I would run away with him, that I’d be the military wife living on base while he lived his dream. If not for Mika, I so would have, screw college and all the plans I’d had since junior high.

  That’s how much I loved Lyon. Too bad he stopped loving me. If he ever really did.

  That thought is halted when I feel a prick in my arm, and crying out silently, I scream at them that I am in here, in here! Let me out.

  “She’s still the same, Mr. Wylder. I’m sorry. The scans show no abnormal swelling of the brain, and we’ve run the blood panels twice. She doesn’t have anything drug related in her system. All we can do is wait.”

  That must be the doctor and—

&nb
sp; “Wait? I have been waiting! It’s been four days, Doc. We’re going on five in a couple of hours, and I’m starting to worry even more. Leila is a fighter. She doesn’t quit, so there must be something wrong with—”

  “Her body and mind are exhausted, sir. Not tired or a little fatigued. I cannot stress to you exactly how bad she was when they brought her in. She had internal bruising, her body was at the brink of death, and she hadn’t had water for at least two days she was so dehydrated. We’re lucky she’s still hanging on. If she needs time to heal, give it to her and wait. That’s all we can do.”

  The words bring something else up, something I can’t—no! I won’t remember now, not when I’m having such nice dreams of all the times I was with Lyon.

  They’re the good parts of those days and all that I held dear even afterward when I thought Mika wouldn’t make it. So, no, I won’t think of that right now.

  I was thinking of breakfast…

  Waking up to the feel of lips against mine, I stretch slowly and smile, squeaking with a horrified push when I realize I have morning breath and Lyon is kissing me.

  His laughter follows me all the way into his bathroom, and after a quick search of the cabinets, I find a new toothbrush and rip it from the wrapping, brushing with one of those heartfelt sighs when the clean teeth thing starts happening.

  There are a few things I like more than clean teeth, but this morning, the only thing that tops it is Lyon, and I refuse to breathe foul breath in his face.

  Once my teeth no longer feel like a moss bed has taken hold, I rinse and dry my mouth and then take care of my morning bladder.

  “Lay! Come on. Hawk made breakfast,” he yells through the door.

  I blush at his eager tone and start glowing like Rudolph’s nose when I peep out of the bathroom to see him leaning against the wall with a shirt the size of a city state, when all he has on are his boxers.

  “Here.”

  It swallows me whole, and I give him a look that says no way when it hits past my knees and the short sleeves touch my wrists.