(Un)wise (13 page)

His arms loosened, and he pulled back enough that I could see his face.  His anguish.  His frustration.

“Don’t,” he started saying, but his voice broke and he had to stop.  He swallowed hard and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his look made my heart turnover.  Need.  Desperate need flooded the hazel beauty of the eyes I’d come to know so well.

He leaned in, lifted a hand, and slid his fingers through my hair.  His gaze followed the movement which started at my temple and ended with his fingers cupping the back of my head.  Despite the pains, my stomach went crazy and my settling pulse leapt.  Then, he did the same with his other hand.  He held me gently, studying every inch of my face.  He leaned in further, moving closer until his lips hovered over mine.  My heartbeat tripled its already exhaustive efforts.

“Don’t ever try to tell me goodbye again,” he warned in a thick voice.  “We’re not done yet.”

He closed the minute gap separating us, crushing his lips against mine.  He set fire to my thoughts and burned away all my pain with his touch.  I forgot to breathe.  His fingers held me still as he tilted his head and demanded more, needing the affirmation that we were both still alive.  The teasing patient man was gone.  With his mouth, he claimed me in a way I’d thought he hadn’t wanted, a way he’d hidden from me.  I lifted my hands to his shoulders holding him in return, not wanting this to stop.  I kissed him back, finally sure fate knew what the heck it was doing.

The desperation began to fade, and I felt faint when he tore his lips from mine.  He didn’t relinquish his hold though.  As I gasped for air, he kept my senses spinning wildly with soft kisses to my cheek.  My jaw.  My neck.  Tingles raced over me at the first touch of his lips on my neck.  His lips softened and returned to skim my own with small little kisses that started a yearning in me. A yearning I well understood from previous lives.

Too soon he pulled back, leaving me shaking, and my breaths coming out in hot little clouds.  Without his attention, the cold wrapped around me, and the pain crept back in.  I wrapped an arm protectively over my middle.  His pupils shrank while I watched, and a twinge of regret crept in with the change.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized gruffly, looking away.  I reached out a hand to comfort him and whatever he felt sorry about.  None of this was his fault. The burden of guilt laid solely on me.  I shouldn’t have tried walking away.

“That won’t happen again,” he spoke slowly, his jaw muscles clenching.  Then he looked at me with promise burning in his eyes. “Until you’re eighteen.”

My mouth popped open, and I made a choking sound while my brain tried to come up with the words to articulate my feelings.

“And don’t ever try hurting yourself again,” he growled.

Completely ignoring his reprimand, I half-yelled, half-gasped, “Are you kidding me?” as the shock of finally understanding his standoff attitude toward me wore off, and my brain started functioning again.  “That’s the problem?  We almost just
died.
We almost lost a chance for an ‘us’,” I flailed a hand back and forth between us, “and you’re worried about how old I am?”

“Bethi.”

“Don’t ‘Bethi’ me,” I hissed.  “First stop, I’m molesting your butt, and you’re going to like it!”  We both felt the pull, we both had feelings for each other, and I suffered dream after dream because the timing wasn’t right for him?  What did he think a few months would do for us?

I picked my blade up from the ground before the literal meaning of what I’d just said sank in.  Luke’s smirk didn’t help cool my temper.  I stomped off—as much as I could with a gigantic cut decorating my stomach and aches in places I hadn’t known I possessed—in the direction I hoped led toward his bike.  I slayed small saplings and maimed trees in my wrath.  He trailed behind me, wisely remaining quiet.

“How did you find me?” I asked after I cooled down.

“Your scent.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Why did you leave?”

I let out a slow breath.  “That’s not important anymore.  I won’t leave again.”  Not even when he frustrated the heck out of me.  Now that I knew his reasons, I’d stick to him like glue.  “How long until we reach the Compound?  This is only going to get worse.”

“Tomorrow.”

I glanced at him and met his troubled gaze.  I reached out and clasped his hand.  He let me, twining his fingers through mine.

*    *    *    *

When we reached the bike, we both stared at each other.  The gore on him was too much to possibly be real.  Ugh!  I’d kissed that.

He studied me just as intently.  Untangling his fingers from mine, he reached up to brush a hand gentled along my cheek.  “You’re pale,” he commented.  “And you’re still bleeding.  We need to get that looked at.”

I didn’t move.  “Or you could just take us to a hotel, I could clean up and you could help me with some gauze and tape.”  He looked like he was about to argue so I added, “We can’t afford the questions a hospital would ask.”

He reluctantly nodded and moved toward the bike.

“We can’t ride around with you looking like that,” I said, stopping him.

“What do you suggest?”

I pointed to the nearby marsh, which had a thin layer of ice over the water it offered.

His lips twitched.  “You’re liking this, aren’t you.”

“I’ll get Tinker Bell ready.  And you better hurry.  Who knows what’s still headed in this direction.”

He snorted, but got back off the bike and pulled his shirt over his head.  The muscles in his back rippled as he tossed the shirt aside.  I fought not to sigh. I was liking this.  Far too much.

Fortunately, Tinker Bell was unnecessary.  He had most of our clean laundry—including a pair of pants for himself—in his saddlebags.

He washed while I stood shivering on the gravel shoulder.  I pretended the shivers were a reaction to his muscled back flexing each time he bent to rinse away more blood.  In reality, exhaustion had claimed its due.  The sprint through the trees, the fight, and the blood loss took their toll.  Dreams whispered to me, and the insistency of them depressed me.  What more could I possibly learn other than more pain and death?  And sadly, I didn’t have the strength to wrestle Luke down and Claim him, like I’d threatened to, to stop them.

Standing in the cold facing the inevitable, I just wanted to get on the bike, wrap my arms around his waist, and let them have me.  I knew he wouldn’t like me sleeping while we drove, but I didn’t want to delay getting to the Compound by stopping at one more hotel and falling asleep there.  It just increased the chances of another run-in with the others.

He doused his hair one more time and turned toward me as he shook the water from it.  Sunlight glinted off the droplets that flew.  Rivulets ran down his chest.  Steam rolled off him.  When he turned still dripping water, his eyes roamed over my face for a moment.  Concern crept into his eyes as his gaze flicked to the arm I held to my middle.  I didn’t try to straighten or pull it away.  The cut hurt.  I couldn’t hide that.  But it wouldn’t stop my determination to push on.

“If we drive straight through, how long ‘til we get there?”

“If nothing happens? Ten to twelve hours depending on the roads we take.”

“We need to push through.  I can’t take another run in,” I said.  He opened his mouth to argue.  “No, Luke,” I sighed before he spoke.  “I can’t.  I’m done.  Do you get it?  Just,
done
.”  I hurt too much physically, and I had the depressing knowledge that I would hurt more in the near future due to the dreams. I lacked the optimism to fool myself into believing we’d make it through what waited.

He strode over to me with an intense light in his eyes.  Both hands gripped my arms lightly.  He gave them a gentle squeeze and then pulled me to his chest, hugging me close despite the arm still wrapped protectively around my stomach.  His lips grazed my hair, and he laid his cheek on top my head.

“Don’t give up,” he whispered.  “Not now.”

He held me for a moment.  I soaked up the comfort and the heat he radiated.  I really wanted everything to be okay.  I just knew we were in too deep for it to be that way.

“We need to get moving,” I said.  “Every minute we stay in one place, the more likely they are to find us again.”

He pulled back and lifted my chin so my eyes met his.  We studied each other for several minutes.  His eyes expressed more than his words because his worry and fear shone there.  “We’ll get there,” he promised.

He wanted my acknowledgement, but I wouldn’t lie.  Instead, my gaze drifted down to his lips.  The memory of his kiss started my heart thumping in a heavy rhythm.  I didn’t want to think about the Compound, the journey there, or the men who’d be waiting to attack us.  I wanted to lose myself in the way he made me feel just one more time.

My other arm took on a life of its own and drifted from my side to his back.  The heat of his skin warmed my cold fingers as I traced the ridges on his muscles.

“Bethi,” he begged.  “Don’t.”

His stupid, misguided moral compass was a pain in my butt.  “Don’t what?  Don’t think of how that kiss felt?  Don’t wish that you’d let your guard down enough to let it happen again so I can forget everything else and imagine a world where just you and I exist?  A safe place where I can sleep without haunting dreams?  A place where men don’t chase me down and cut me?  Yeah, I better not.  Reality and morals are way better, anyway.”

I pulled away from him and walked toward the bike.  He hesitated a moment and then followed. He didn’t leave me waiting long or remind me that I’d technically cut myself.  I dug through the bag and handed him a clean shirt without looking at him.  I couldn’t.  I’d start drooling and become more bitter.  It didn’t matter.  The memory of his pecs and his muscled shoulders...I sighed and eased my leg over the bike settling behind him.

I flung the strap of my bag over his head and wrapped my arms around his waist.  No air existed between us.  My cheek pressed against his back.  I closed my eyes even as he warned me not to fall asleep.

“Just get us there before I bleed out.  And don’t stop because I fall asleep.  Just nudge me or something.”

He pulled off the gravel shoulder with ease.  A chill wind whipped my hair around my face.  Even with the layers I wore, I’d freeze by the time we got to our destination.  Only a werewolf would bring a motorcycle for a human in November.

We drove north pushing straight toward our destination, forgoing the erratic back road routes.  We met up with a group of five other riders on motorcycles.  I smiled at one before laying my head back down on Luke’s back.  We would draw less attention with others.

Penny grabbed the toy from my hand and hit me.

“It’s mine,” she yelled, her face turning red.

It wasn’t her toy.  It had been lying on the ground when we both arrived at the park.  Her mother tried reasoning with Penny, but Penny swung out a hand and hit her mother’s face.  Her mother, shocked by her daughter’s sudden tantrum, didn’t move to stop the second swing.

I liked Mrs. Hught and didn’t want to see Penny hit her anymore.  “Stop.”  I said it softly, but clearly, pushing the thought and the inaction toward Penny.  Penny’s arms dropped to her side.  Her face grew even redder, and she turned to glare at me.

She knew what I could do and had made me promise never to do it to her.  It was a promise I had to break.

“You can’t hit your mommy,” I tried to explain.

“I can do anything I want,” she screeched at me.  But we both knew that wasn’t true.  The hatred in her eyes burned me, and I released her will.

She turned away from me, threw her arms around her mother’s neck, and cried.  “I want to go home,” she sobbed.  “I don’t want Charlene to have a sleepover anymore.”

I emerged from the dream slightly when Luke reached around to push me toward the center of his back.  I’d slid to the side, dangerously unbalancing us.  Shivering, I sank right back into the next waiting dream.

Sitting at the long black counter in biology class, I tried to ignore Penny’s quiet mutterings from the table behind me.  We hadn’t been friends since first grade, which suited me fine.  Middle school had killed any lingering traces of friendship.  For two and a half years, she’d tormented me, spread rumors, and caused me nothing but trouble.

I’d been pulled into the counselor’s office at least twice a week for the last three months to discuss the malicious relationship we had.  The school was just trying to cover themselves in a bullying case, but I had sat there and listened to Penny’s pathetic explanations for the rumors she started.

Something hit the back of my head.  I turned as I reached back to feel my hair.  Gum.  Penny didn’t meet my eyes but looked straight at the teacher as if she’d been paying attention the whole time.

“Ms. Farech.  Is there a problem?” Mr. Melski asked from the front of the room.

“Yes.”  I struggled to keep all the emotion from my voice.  “Someone just threw gum in my hair.”  I stood and picked up my books.  “I’ll see if someone in the office can help.”

His eyes flicked to Penny.  The faculty knew.  So why in the heck did they let her sit behind me?  It was a small school.  Because we were in the same grade, we had most of our classes together.  Not all, though, because I’d managed to squeak into a few of the advanced ones.  Hard classes, but I loved them because she wasn’t there.

I kept my pace even as I walked out the door.

The secretary, an older woman who yelled at most kids, made a sympathetic noise when I walked in and showed her the gum.  I hadn’t touched it much and had walked carefully so it wasn’t too embedded.

“Why on earth does Penny dislike you so much?” she asked as she worked.

“Because when we were kids, I told her not to hit her mom.”  The truth, yet not all of it.  Penny was the only one who knew my secret.  Never once did I give the rumors she had started any credence.  But she and I both knew I could do what she claimed.  I just didn’t let her push me to do it openly.

The secretary extracted the gum wad within minutes, only taking a few strands with it.

“Make sure you don’t sit near her at the assembly,” she warned just before I left.

As if I would purposely do so.

I went to the bathroom to check my hair before heading back to class.  Hopefully Penny wasn’t chewing more gum in anticipation of my return.  The door opened behind me.  Penny’s eyes met mine in the mirror.

“Why?” I asked, turning.  “What do you get from doing this?  You were never mean when we were little.”  She continued to eye me hatefully.  I tried again.  “We were friends once.”

“Ha!” she barked bitterly.  “You were never my friend.  You never listened to me.”

I knew exactly what she meant.  She’d wanted me to use my ability to make her mom look away so we could sneak candy when we went to her house.  She didn’t understand as I did that my ability wasn’t meant for that.  Somehow I’d always known I shouldn’t misuse my power.

“You always asked too much,” I said sadly.  “Just let this go.”

“No.  At some point you’ll make a mistake, and I want to be there so everyone knows I was right about you.”  She reached out and slapped the books from my arms.  They tumbled to the floor.

“All you’re going to prove is how mean you can be,” I said glancing down at the books.  She didn’t answer.

When I bent to pick them up, she pushed me over.  I snapped and grabbed hold of her will.

“Stop.”  She froze poised in a half-crouch ready to come after me.  I held her still with my will, but I forced nothing else on her.  I felt bad enough for holding her like that.  “I’m really sorry, Penny, but this has gone on long enough.  Forget your hate.  Remember the friendship we once had.” I picked up my books and stood.  “Don’t try to hurt me again.”

I walked out the door intending to get a good head start before I released her.  From behind, I heard her yell through the door, “I still can’t move!”

The dream shifted, but not far.  I still wore the same clothes.

Sitting on the gym bleachers surrounded by the entire student body, I looked around warily for Penny.  She would hate me even more, now.  I should have made her forget.  I just couldn’t bring myself to mess with someone’s head like that.  It wasn’t like anyone really believed her.  Other than the bullying, she wasn’t a threat to me. I had no justification for taking the extreme measure of robbing her of her memories.

“As some of you know, there have been cases of bullying.  This is a serious matter that this school will not take lightly.  We have a short film to help educate you on what steps should be taken if you are bullied, or witness bullying.”

The overhead lights dimmed and a beam of light from the AV room near the top of the gym pierced the gloom.  The AV room, a recent addition accessed by a set of stairs outside of the gym, was prized by the faculty as a means to broadcast school news.

A shot of the girl’s bathroom burst onto the white gym wall we used for projection.  My mouth popped open as I saw myself walk into the bathroom and go to the mirror.  Some students near me started laughing quietly.  The faculty, standing on the gym floor, started conferring in whispers as on screen, Penny walked in and we started talking.

One of the teachers left the gym presumably to reach the AV room and stop the movie.  The lights in the gym turned on as Penny knocked the books out of my hand.  No one moved.  Everyone stayed focused on the projection.  My stomach filled with piercing shards of ice.

“The assembly is over.  Return to your last hour class.  Those with Physical Education should go to the locker rooms and wait there,” the principal shouted, unable to use his microphone as the PA had been taken over by my voice, “All you’re going to prove is how mean you can be.”

No one moved.  All eyes remained riveted on Penny as she stared at me, and I moved to retrieve the books.  I could taste my panic, the flavor disgustingly reminiscent of vomit.  Penny had finally succeeded.

I closed my eyes as the recording of my voice rang out.  “Stop.”  A murmuring rose in the gym, loud enough that others started shushing their neighbors as I gave Penny my little speech and then left the bathroom.

Opening my eyes, I caught the angle of the video change as the cameraman climbed off the toilet and opened the stall door to zoom in on Penny’s outraged face.  Penny’s words, “I still can’t move,” echoed through the eerily quiet gym.  The last image on the wall was of Penny suddenly falling to the floor.  The projection shut off.

My face heated unnaturally.  Someone next to me whispered to their neighbor, “Holy crap!  Penny wasn’t lying.”

I sat up in the bleachers, surrounded by my peers. All eyes turned to me.  A side door opened, and a teacher escorted a beaming Penny into the gym.  As I stood, I grabbed everyone’s will but hers and planted a seed.  My voice rang out.  “You just witnessed proof of Penny’s dogged determination to expose something extraordinary.  Instead, all she did was paint herself as a bully and show she has an amazing ability to act.”