"I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"How did you get here?"
The sheepish look on his face is enough answer. "You came in your wolf form, didn’t you? You should know better than that." My voice rises as a shiver of worry runs up my spine. My bare feet hit the floor and I stand up, hands akimbo and scold him, "They've recently spotted wolves not far from this city. The Guardians are worried that they are dangerous to the citizens. They’ll kill you if they see you. And here you are, walking straight to them. What are you doing here anyway?" Then, another thought strikes me and I clutch the front of his shirt, "Is everything okay at home? Ma …"
“She’s fine,” he says in a soft voice, clasping my wrist. My pulse thuds against his fingers.
"I had to see you, Maya."
His eyes glide down my T-shirt and I am suddenly aware that it barely skims the tops of my thighs. It's damp in places too. Sweat mixed with water. I curse myself as goose bumps appear on my skin, and my nipples firm, thrusting through the thin material. I resist the urge to tug down the shirt, and am about to step back when his hands grip mine, holding me in place.
"Now that you’ve seen me, why don’t you leave?" The words whisper out of me as he steps closer, his body almost but not quite touching mine. The warmth of his skin swirls around me and I shiver. He looks so good. I'd never realized how striking he really is. Masculine. And strong. A few days with the humans and I can already see he would stand out among them. There's something different about him, which would set him apart. It's the way he carries himself. Confident. And so ... so dark; hinting at the beast inside him. The one that excites me and calls to me, even though I am not one of them. Have I gone too far? In the time I’ve spent with the hybrids, have I become so much like them that I've lost the human inside?
I swallow my thoughts and he lets go of my hands, which rest lightly on his arms. Rock hard muscles jerk below the warm honey of his skin, setting off answering pings of delight racing across my skin. I want to trace their shape with my fingers. I want to trace him with my lips. My tongue flicks out touching my lips gone dry and, rising on tiptoe, I raise my head. Slowly. Slowly. Inch by inch by inch. Until his breath shivers over my forehead. His lips lower to mine. Lower still. His heat wraps around me, a physical presence pushing me against him, and I drink in his familiar cinnamon and sawdust smell. His essence so different from mine. So different from Jai's. Jai! His face flashes in front of my eyes and for a second his lighter, lemon-honey smell fills my nostrils. I pull out of Luke's grasp, turning my back deliberately on him.
My movements jerky, I run my fingers through my hair and, walking to the lone window, I lean out, taking huge gasps of the salt-spiced sea air.
Behind me, Luke makes a harsh noise in his throat. I can feel his silver eyes freezing into ice chips piercing my back. But I can’t turn around. Not when all I can see now is someone else’s face. Someone else's eyes. Amber eyes.
"You’ve met someone else haven’t you?" His voice is flat, certain.
He knows. But how could he sense that I am thinking of someone else? I turn around and don’t say anything. This time, he stays where he is, doesn’t come close to me, and already I miss his understanding presence.
"I have met someone" I finally say, "But I don’t know what to make of it. It doesn’t change how I feel about you," My voice is earnest, and I mean it. But just hearing my worlds is already making me feel as if I am cheating on him. And cheating myself.
"How do you feel, Maya?"
"I still love you, Luke," I say and he comes over to me, padding softly on his naked feet. His jeans cling to his thighs, outlining the muscles and a flame of desire tugs my womb. Here you are, still attracted to Luke, and yet, yet, you can’t stop thinking of Jai, can you?
"Do you? Do you really love me?" The question, part challenge, as if he doubts the fullness of that truth, suddenly. He stops in front of me, far enough to be out of reach. "Come with me then. The pack is getting restive. Food is running low and we are being forced to move closer to the city. We are not too far from the refugee camps on the outskirts. Already some of us have started sneaking into the camps to steal food. It’s only a matter of time before we're found out. And your mother has a lot on her right now. The least you can do is give her one less thing to worry about."
"But she’s not really my mother. The pack is not really my home," I say. I know I am hurting him, and I hate myself for that, but I have no choice. "I have to find my real mother. The only way to move forward is to first step back, to find out where I came from."
His chest heaves as he takes a deep breath. He's here because he's trying to protect me; he cares for me. A lot. And he's trying to understand why I have to do this. A part of him knows I am right, knows this is something I have to do and on my own. I see realisation sink in. He cannot change my mind, not this time.
"Promise that you’ll come back." Without waiting for my reply, he closes the distance between us. Then he’s hauling me up by my shoulders so I am on tiptoe, and his lips descend on mine. He’s drinking from me as if to remember how I taste. He buries his nose in my throat, and I shiver. He wants to carry my smell with him till we meet next. Desire rams into my chest, and I can’t breathe anymore. The pulse at the base of my neck is pounding so hard it vibrates all the way down to my feet. I’ve never felt like this before. Never felt as alive as this. All that matters is the touch of his lips, the scent of his skin, the brush of his eyelashes over my cheeks. I want to kiss him back. Do it. Now. I close my eyes and start to lean into him when, just like that, I am free. He steps back and the sea breeze rushes between us. Raising his hand in farewell, he turns and, before I can stop him, he is gone, leaving my head whirling in confusion.
7
One week later
I walk up the pavement, careful to keep to the inside, away from the road and the cars whizzing past. Shamil had explained to me in great detail how, many years ago, before the tsunami, the traffic on the road used to be "mind-boggling." His words, not mine. Now as I look around all I see is smooth flowing traffic, streaming between towering skyscrapers of downtown Bombay. And the occasional heritage building, the few which had not been swept away by the tsunami and now so carefully preserved. There's even an artificial water body running through the city, below the bridge I am on which winds its way through the buildings. From here I can see and hear the traffic hurtling past with the sun strong on my back. The same sun has shone down on this place for the last hundred years, and now everything has been changed. The thought disturbs me, more than I care to admit. Making me feel small, so small. And I hurry along, in a rush to get off the bridge. Seeing a narrow path leading off the side, I take it.
Anything to escape the constant hum of the vehicles whizzing by. I walk and almost stumble in my hurry to get away from the concrete road behind. And keep going, on through the winding path. As the sound of traffic fades, I slow down. Look up at the trees on either side. Green trees, leaves rustling, branches soaring up. My shoulders relax and I loose a breath. And then I'm in a clearing.
In the middle, a small group of people is gathered around a man who is standing on a raised platform. He gestures in the air. I can't hear what he's saying. But he's so there. His entire being so immersed in his speech that I am instantly captivated. He's middle aged, grey hair, grey-black beard. Clad in loose white trousers, long flowing shirt, and at his side a sword. A sword? The first I'm seeing in this city.
He's so different from anyone I've met so far here. So ... so real. I reach the small group in time to hear him say "—The council has us trapped in a golden cage. They feed us, provide for us, keep us safe, and wrap us in cotton wool. Like animals. Like rabbits. Or domesticated dogs. They give us all material comforts and, in return, they take away the one thing that defines us as human. Choice. They take away choice. The choice of how to live our life, how to think, to decide what we want, what is important for us. Of where we must live. They even want to define the kind of person to ma
rry; how many children to have. Everything, everything is influenced by them. And you take it; we take it as if it doesn't matter to us. But it does, fellow citizens, fellow humans, it does. Let them not take away the last basic shred of human emotion in you, the one that differentiates you from animals, let them not take away the choice of how to lead your life—"
A yell has me turning my head in time to see four men, all in black, with that familiar blue armband, come running towards us. Guardians - Rookies like Jai. Someone screams. A man and a woman break away from the crowd, making good their escape. The woman next to me screams at the man on stage, "Aki, we have to get out of here. They’ll hurt you if they get to you."
"I am not leaving, Veena. You get out of here, go."
"I am not leaving you, Aki! No" She screams and, pushing through the fast dispersing group, climbs onto the platform and clings to him.
The Guardians reach us, and most of the group is gone. I must follow them, I must, but I can't move. I know what's happening; a part of me knows this man represents freedom, choice, and the part of me that loves to be free ... like the hybrids. And I want to stay and help. But the Guardians, they'll hurt me. They will. And then, I am being pulled along. "Hey!" I scream as my hand is grabbed, and a smaller group that's running away pulls me along. "Let me go!" I yell, but they run and don't let go, and I let myself be dragged along. Turning only once to see one of the Guardians raise his stun gun at Aki and the woman, Veena, both of them crumpling to the ground still holding onto each other, and then I lose sight of them.
I don't realize I am crying, sobbing till we reach the bridge again. The stranger who'd grasped my hand hisses "Go, run, hide, we cannot be together, it's easy for them to track us if we are. Stay low for a few days and if we're lucky no one will ID us."
And then he's gone, running the way I had come.
I stand there stunned before making my way in the other direction, under the blazing sun. Not everyone was happy in utopia. How could they be, when the things we hybrids took for granted—the freedom to live as we wanted—was not something they'd ever know?
8
One week later
I haven’t seen Jai since the poetry session, and now every time the café cafe door jangles I find myself searching for him. Luke’s visit has left me in a tizzy and all I want now is to see Jai again. To reconfirm how I feel about him. To ask him more about himself, to ask him about … what? How he feels about me? He doesn’t even know me. And yet—
"He’s away training," Shamil says, catching me glance at the door. Again.
My cheeks grow warm, "I wasn’t looking out for him."
"No, of course not," he says with a straight face before going back to looking at the computer screen in front of him. "You know he doesn’t live too far off, right?" He asks in a casual voice. Too casual.
My eyes dart to him, "Do you have his address?" I try not to show how eager I am, and fail.
"Do you want his address?"
"Yes, of course I do." I don’t bother denying.
"Finally! A girl after my own heart. One who takes initiative when it comes to pursuing a man." He chuckles before scrawling it down. "Just make sure you complete your shift first," He warns as he hands it to me. "You’ve been making really good progress here. You have a natural talent for making customers feel welcome."
I stare at him, and as if reading my confusion he asks, "Perhaps you’d like to stay on longer, now that your first six weeks is up?"
"Are you offering me the job then?" I grin, feeling as if I've just passed the biggest examination of my life. A much-needed accomplishment in my new self and identity, a self that has been struggling to find solid ground for weeks.
"If you want it," he replies without looking at me, as if he hadn’t just offered me a lifeline. A temporary home. A place to hold onto till I figure out what is happening to the rest of my life.
"I do. Thanks."
He waves away my gratitude.
When I get off work, I head away from the motel and towards the address.
9
I hesitate by the little bungalow on Land’s End, overlooking the bay. My heart is hammering against my ribs and my mouth is dry. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unsure of myself. What is there to be afraid of? At the most he’ll tell you to leave, right? Go on, just go up and talk to him, tell him how you feel. You have nothing to lose. No, that's not true. I have everything to lose.
I really don't want to mess this up. There’s something about this guy that calls out to me, something on a very basic level. When I look at him, it’s as if he holds many of the answers to my life. I've barely met him; how could he know anything about me? And yet, he does. I know he does. If nothing else, I just want to spend a little more time with him.
We might fool ourselves into thinking we’re perfectly rational beings, but that is far from the case, of course. Emotional factors affect how we make decisions all the time.
Ah! The rational explanation of being confused, of what I am going through, but that doesn’t help me at all right now, does it?
Even as I’m dawdling by the gate, I hear the roar of a bike pulling up the hill not far off. I sprint past where the wall curves at the far end of the property. I've just ducked out of sight when Jai pulls into the gate on a bike. By the time I sprint back to peer around the gates, he's disappeared around the driveway towards a small garage. And just like that, for the first time in my life, I turn stalker.
Running on silent feet to the bedroom window, I peer inside only to be faced with the biggest bookshelf I have seen in my life. The entire wall of the bedroom is covered with books. I want to reach out and pick them up and take some home. Never could resist books. It’s another thing that set me apart from the pack. My thirst for knowledge. While the hybrid kids chose to indulge in physical activities, I much prefered to read a book. And, home-schooled as I was by Ma, she’d always encourage me in this too. And then Jai walks in.
His head hangs, and his movements are slow, sluggish as if he’s exhausted. He’s close enough for me to see the splotches of blood on his shirt. He turns his back to me and when he sheds the bloodied shirt I stifle a gasp. Scratches, deep gouges, some still oozing blood mar his back. Wolf claw wounds, made by the hybrids. My hybrids. My pack.
What would he say if he realized that I was one of them? The very hybrids he is trying to protect his city from. No, he’ll never want to see me again if I told him where I come from. Paralysed with indecision, I wait there when, without removing his jeans, as if he's too exhausted to care anymore, he walks into the shower.
I'm still standing there, unsure what to do next when my eyes fall on a framed picture by his bedside. It shows a young family. The man in the photograph resembles a grown up Jai enough for me to realize that he is Jai’s father. There’s a young woman next to him. And in her arms a little girl, his sister. Her familiar features stare out at me and all I can do is stare. I can't really register what I am seeing, my mind refuses to process it. My hand shakes as I raise it to push the hair away from my face and I don't realize my knees are trembling till I reach out and support myself against the bedroom wall. Still I can't tear my eyes away from the photograph.
Jai’s probably three or four in it, and looking up at the man, who stares confidently into the camera, his arms around his family. Strong, protective. A father I never had. And it’s the picture of his family, that normalcy of his everyday life, that makes me feel terrible. He's known a more typical childhood, has made a life for himself. And now here I am intruding on him. If I tell him of my feelings it will only turn his life upside down. But you owe it to him to tell him, don't you? And then he can decide what to do with it. No, I don't owe him anything. I have no relation with him, I don't. Why, I barely knew him till a few weeks ago. And how did I even run into him so quickly within my first week in this city as if, it was meant to be?
Serendipity: The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.
But there are no coincidences, not in science. And, do I even believe in fate? In destiny? Ma does. Ma with her unshakeable trust in her gods. It's how she'd found me, by chance. And now here I am, draw by destiny. Or am I? What if I had never been lost, would I then also belong to a family like Jai's? Would we have been a unit? One against the world. Still lost in thought, I walk back out of the driveway and cross the road. The next thing, I hear the screech of tires and am flying through the air. My head hits the road and I black out.
10
Amber eyes. Light brown, with sparks of gold floating in them. Jai’s eyes? No, not Jai. This man is older, wrinkles creep out from the corners of his eyes, and grey-flecked hair falls over his forehead. I blink, try to sit up and pain spurts from my ankle. I reach towards it and when I touch the throbbing skin, red and white sparks shoot through me, making me faint with pain.
"Take it easy," he says as I sink back onto the ground.
I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, letting the whirling world around me settle.
"I don’t think you’ve broken your ankle, or anything else, for that matter," His voice rumbles over my skin. "Luckily I swerved in time, but my car’s fender brushed you. It’s just a sprain; you should be fine once you rest up."
To my relief, the world feels steadier and, when I try to get up, he helps me to my feet, his touch gentle.
"I am okay," I say finally, and he nods as if satisfied.
He’s tall, with broad shoulders that block out the sun for a second as I get my bearings.
"You were at Jai’s place?" I redden and half nod.
"Uh! Yes …" I manage.
He bends down to pick up my fallen backpack and I sling it on, wincing slightly when I put weight on my injured ankle. To my relief it holds, but it’s throbbing so bad that I have to bite down on my lips to swallow down nausea.
Feral - Many Lives Book 1 Page 4
