Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  “Good.”

  “Ew!” Carmen fake-gags. “You two get a room.” I laugh at her crinkled nose and turned up lip. “Let’s head back. I’m dirtier than I’d like to be.”

  “Are you going to jump off the mountain to the ground?” I ask her.

  “A little bit. I’ll jump ledge to ledge until I’m comfortable with the height to the ground for my landing.”

  I nod, looking back to Nathan.

  “We can do that too, Sparks. Or I can run straight down the mountain.”

  “That sounds scarier than jumping. Watching the ground come toward us at full speed.”

  “It is, but whichever you’d prefer.”

  “Do the ledge to ledge jumping. I’ll deal with the turns of my stomach. If I barf on you, don’t get upset.”

  “Please do not throw up on me.” He raises an eyebrow. “I might look at you differently.”

  “You will not,” I sing, pushing his shoulder.

  “I might not, but that would be nasty.”

  “It would.” I jump on his back. “Okay, I’m ready, Nate. Don’t kill us,” I joke.

  He walks to the edge, asking, “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” I tightly wrap around him, taking a deep breath.

  Nathan leaps off the ledge.

  I bury my head in his neck, clenching my flipping stomach. Our first landing’s hard; the sound of Nathan’s boots meeting the rock is loud. He leaps again, and I hold my breath, waiting for another landing to shake our bodies. Excited shouts scream over the howling wind. They’re enjoying themselves. Landing with another hard thud, it’s as unexpected as the first and still wracks my body. “Our next landing’s the ground, Sparks,” Nathan informs, jumping. I keep my eyes closed, squeezing Nathan tighter. The fall’s somersaulting my stomach, giving me a major rush. We land roughly, and I drop off Nathan’s back, stumbling around. Nathan laughs at me, grabbing my arm as I’m about to fall.

  “I’m cool with the mountain climbing,” I say, holding my head, hoping the world stops shaking. “But the falling part, no.”

  “Come on. I’ll run you home.”

  Too dizzy to run back, I let Nathan carry me to the house.

  “You want to go shopping, Tracey?” Carmen asks when we make it to the front yard.

  Yes! I’d love to stay out of this house. “Nathan, is that okay?”

  “Yeah, babe. Go enjoy yourself.”

  I wince, realizing I’ve done it again. Discomfited, I push my hair back, turning to Carmen. “Yeah, I want to go,” I answer, shamed.

  Her eyebrows rise in comprehension then knit in an uneasy disapproval. “That’s got to be annoying.”

  “You have no idea,” I jest. Relieved she’s not passing judgment as others do, witnessing the perks of my bond. I hate the dominance requirement of it.

  Carmen shrugs. “Well, I guess you get used to it after a while.”

  I shake my head. “They say that, but you don’t. This is later, and I’m still not used to it.”

  Getting approval and asking permission is the worst part about being bound. What’s crazy is that it’s okay until I realize it. What’s more messed up is when I do something without asking him first, I feel bad the entire time and my chest aches. Like I’m kicking my own butt for not checking with my mate to see if I can go outside and plant flowers. I often think, oh, I should’ve asked Nathan if I could do this first. Or I hope Nathan would be okay with my going here. And the most annoying one, let me go back and ask Nathan if he doesn’t mind that I do this. This is so freaking ridiculous and belittling.

  We head to the house, leaving the boys standing in the yard.

  “Tracey,” Nathan calls. “Be careful and call if you need me. Carmen! Don’t do anything extra, and let nothing happen to her.”

  “I won’t, Nathan. Geesh. She’s an adult. We’ll be back later.” A wryly smirk flitters across her face when she meets my eyes. “You don’t need to kiss him goodbye or ask Daddy for his credit card do you?” she teases dramatically with her eyebrows high and hands out at her hips.

  “You’re an ass for that,” I mock. But, now that she mentions it, I do need to tell him goodbye. Running to him, I roll my eyes, frustrated with myself. He wraps his arms around me and I breathe him in, comforting my departure. “You know, that is really annoying,” I say.

  “You know, that is what you signed up for,” he replies matter-of-factly.

  “You know, being an ass is a flaw,” I fire back.

  He kisses my forehead and smirks. “Go ahead, Sparks.” He smacks my butt. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  I rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

  “Don’t forget the credit card, baby girl,” Carmen yells teasingly.

  I flick fireballs from my thumb at her. “I have my own card, smart ass.”

  She scurries away from them, laughing.

  CARMEN AND I TAKE Nathan’s car to an outside shopping plaza near her house. Store hopping, she drags me into a boutique with the cutest clothes I’ve seen in a while.

  “Do you think this is cute?” She holds up a peach-colored dress with ruffles at the bottom. With how small it looks, I’m sure it will fit her tightly. But it’s cute.

  “Yes. I like it. Try it on,” I say, pulling out a blue and white dress that’s probably equally as tight. I also find a summer dress that flares out at the bottom and some brown ankle high boots to match it.

  Trying on clothes and matching outfits with shoes and accessories, we spend hours in one store. After buying our clothes, Carmen pulls me to another store for men.

  While she picks out clothes for her brothers, I pick out some for Nathan. Not that Nathan needs any more clothes, but I like buying him stuff. I find some dark denim and gray denim jeans and a few button-down plaid shirts. They have shirts with names on them and I just so happen to find one that reads Tracey. Laughing, I hold it up, thinking about his reaction. Snagging some black and gray Nikes, I meet Carmen at the counter.

  Her arms are loaded. She heaves clothes on top of the checkout table as if they were too heavy and hurt. “They are going to owe me big time.” She pants. “What’d you get Nathan?”

  I laugh. “Just some jeans, shirts, and shoes,” I say, looking over the items I hold. “Not that he needs them.”

  “Everybody always needs more clothes.” She hands the cashier her card.

  “I know right.” Her saying that reminds me of Glen. It brings joy than saddens me at the same time. I shake it off. . . “You think you bought your brothers enough stuff?” I ask, watching the cashier bag her abundance of items.

  “Yeah, well, see, Carteal doesn’t like to wash clothes, so I had to make sure he has something to wear while we’re at Aunt Nati’s house. And Courtney’s a child, so if I buy Carteal something I have to buy him something too,” she answers, grabbing her many bags from the cashier.

  I check out my things, and we head back to the car.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” she suggests, buckling her seatbelt.

  Drawing my lips to the side, I meet her gaze. I’m ready to go home now. We’ve been gone for over four hours, and I hate to say it, but I miss him badly. I need to get back and make sure he’s okay and see him, maybe give him a hug.

  Carmen’s eyes narrow, then she rolls them. “Really, already?”

  “What?” I grump. “Is it written on my face?”

  She faces forward, propping her elbow on the door. “Yes. You look pitiful.”

  “I know.” I pout. “I can’t help it.” I’m not ready to go in the house yet, just see Nathan. Once I see him, I’ll be fine, and we can go back out. “We don’t have to go in to stay. I’ll see him and then we can leave again.”

  She shakes her head, half-smiling. “Can’t you just talk to him and be fine? It’s about to get dark, and we aren’t going to come back this way. It’s too far.”

  “It’s not the same, Carmen,” I whine like a child denied a candy bar.

  She throws her hand in
her face, as she snickers, laughing at my childish annotation. “Okay, Tracey, let’s go. Maybe if we get closer, it won’t be so bad, and we can stop and get something to eat.”

  I nod, starting up the car and driving away.

  Carmen stops singing mid-tune and turns down the radio. “Do you like it?”

  “Like what?” I ask, frowning.

  “Being bound.”

  I take a minute, considering my answer. “Um, I like being bound to Nathan. If that answers your question.”

  “No, it doesn’t actually.” She twists her upper body. “I’m asking how you feel about it, not about him. Just your feelings. How do you feel about the topic?”

  I sigh. There are a lot of ways I can answer this question. But I don’t want her to take what I say the wrong way.

  “The only reason I’m asking,” she starts, “is because I’d like to know what it’s like. I want someone to feel that way about me, and I feel that way about someone. Every Sephlem girl wants to mate and be bound. Like human girls want to be married.”

  “Oh, Carmen, you are such a girl. Never suspected you for the sentimental type.”

  She laughs. “I am, but only around people I trust and know I can talk to.”

  “Should I take that as a compliment?” I joke.

  “You should,” she sasses. “Now can you please tell me? I watch you and Nathan, and you two seem happy. Or would you say it is just the bond?”

  “Um. My loving him isn’t just the bond; those are my real feelings. It was because of the bond and our mating, though, that I fell for him so quickly and did things with him quicker than I would’ve if we weren’t mated. All of the checking with him before I do things and not being able to go hours without missing him is the bond.” I pause. “I mean, I’d still think about him, not miss him to the point where I’d want to take breaks in between what I’m doing to see him. That’s the part I hate. It steals my independence and that so cliché. The least I can do is walk away without feeling tarnished I didn’t tell my mate first. You know?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t like that either.” She finally turns back in her seat, releasing me from her head-on stare. “Can I ask you another question? I know you don’t know me that well and this may seem a little personal, but I won’t know unless I ask.”

  “Yeah, go ahead,” I say nervously.

  “Don’t think I’m a bitch but, when you had to choose between Nathan and Roehl. How close were you to choosing Roehl?”

  I don’t mind answering, but I’m sure her mind will change about me. “Don’t think different of me,” I mutter as if someone were listening in on our conversation.

  “I won’t. I know what your choice is,” she assures.

  “I was, really close to choosing Roehl. The thing that steered me away was that our heartbeats didn’t match like Nathan’s and mine. And Nathan’s cry for me when I was choosing to leave with Roehl. I don’t know what he did, but it was in the way he said my name.” I immediately go into explaining why knowing that sounded bad. “I didn’t want to choose Roehl. It was just that he did something to me to make me want him. But I didn’t, and I don’t.”

  “You don’t have to explain to me, Tracey, I know.” She pauses. “If you could do it all over, from the beginning. Would you?”

  Ouch. That is a loaded question. “Um.” I think on that. I wouldn’t give up Nathan and me. I love us. A lot of events we’ve gone through I’d like to relive but what’s done is done. And what is, is. “No.”

  “That’s a cliffhanger.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say uncomfortably. “But the good outweighs the bad in it. Like the comforting feeling he gives when his fingertips just barely graze your cheek overcomes the inconvenience of needing his permission. The freedom you feel when you kiss him overcomes the obligation to be around him. Then the love he gives outweighs all the bad and messed up stuff that’s happened in your lives.”

  “Yeah, and not to mention the sex.”

  I smile to myself. “Right, then there’s that.”

  She readjusts herself in the seat. “Yeah, well, I just hear it’s amazing. To make love to someone’s mind and body. But, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Good,” I mutter. “Because it can be addictive. Especially with the bond and this unique feature where you can get high off each other’s touch and smell,” I say even quieter. “Stay that way as long as you can.”

  “Maybe, or at least until I mate.”

  “No, I think you’re supposed to wait until you’re made.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know these things, Carmen. Nathan doesn’t just keep me on a shelf. I talk to his family and am up to date on all the Sephlem terminology.”

  She laughs. “Okay, so I’m supposed to wait until we’re made. Now that we’re closer let’s stop at a restaurant and eat. I’m starving.” She belches, mocking her statement.

  “Yeah, I can tell,” I chaff.

  “That was a hunger burp, not a full one.”

  I don’t want to stop, but I will because she asked, and I don’t want to make it seem as bad as it is. “Okay, we’ll stop.” But my leg’s jumping, and if I let go of this steering wheel, she’d see my hands fidgeting.

  I drive to the restaurant Nathan took us to with the patio. We order our food, and they quickly bring it out. As we eat, Carmen talks about how she wants her mated relationship to be. And I encourage her with smiles and the experience.

  “Hi, Tracey,” slides from a familiar voice.

  I cuss under my breath not wanting to look. Seeing him will turn this day around for me. Sipping my sweet tea through my straw, I feel Michael take another step closer.

  “I said hi, Tracey,” he restates, standing right behind me.

  I meet Carmen’s questioning gaze and roll my eyes. “Can we help you with something?” she asks, irritated.

  Michael must be standing really close for me to feel the air move around his pulsing body. He’s nervous.

  “No, not you. But Tracey can.” He takes a seat at our table.

  I drop my fork and grumble. “Michael, not today and not right now.”

  He gazes, admiring me. “I’m not, Tracey. I’m saying hi.”

  I roll my eyes again, looking away from him. “Okay. Hi. Now, please go.”

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound seductive. But it sounds all wrong. “Stop writing me off, Cey.”

  “No, you make me annoyed. And I’m trying to have a conversation with my cousin. So if you do not mind, please excuse yourself.”

  The restaurant floods with Nathan’s demanding presence. It’s bombarding, and I hate to consider it, but I hope the shit doesn’t hit the fan. I’m just catching a break for Pete’s sake.

  “I can’t understand why you haven’t moved yet,” Nathan says from behind us, Carteal and Courtney on his flank.

  “Where do you keep coming from?” Michael blurts exaggeratedly.

  Nathan looks at Michael with a devilish grin. “You know. . . I’ve wanted to crush your skull since the first time I heard your voice.” He steps forward.

  Michael jumps to his feet, squaring off with Nathan. He looks like Jack in front of a bean stock. I laugh aloud at my thought, reluctantly standing. “Just because you’re with my ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m going to let you threaten me.” Michael tries to swell his small chest.

  I laugh harder, moving to stand in front of Nathan. “Come on, Nate. Let’s go,” I say, pushing him to walk away.

  “No, wait, Tracey.” Michael reaches out to me.

  I wrench away―faster than I should move with people around―trying to avoid being shocked.

  “What the?” Michael mutters as his eyes suspiciously fixate on me, a puzzled look stealing his poised expression.

  My eyes twitch, and the film demands me to blink.

  “Do it, Sparks,” Nathan says from behind me.

  I take a breath and blink.

  Liquid-like, yel
low eyes peer back at me past lashless lids. The warm toned skin, once smooth and caramel is now a dark and a scaly texture that makes me never want to touch him again. Michael’s tight, curly hair is looser, giving it a wavy appearance. He’s also a bit bigger. There’s nothing familiar about his features, nothing about this beast would tell me he’s Michael.

  My eyes demand me to blink, and I do, bringing him back to short, smooth-skinned, curly haired Michael. While observing him, I hadn’t noticed Nathan had moved to my right side or Carmen to my left.

  Michael stumbles back, jabbering words I can’t hear.

  It hits me like a ton of bricks. All this time we were together, he wasn’t human. He isn’t human. Oh—my—gosh! “Who are you?” I burst unable to hear myself shout.

  Michael throws his hands up, mouth moving a million miles a minute. My hearing has faded and the more he talks and I can’t hear him, the more worked up I become. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get a grip. But unable to see and hear spikes a panic forcing me to flick my eyes open. Michael strikes forward, grabbing me by my arms, and smashing his lips down on mine. I push, shove, and slap him away, hands only connecting with air and space. Blinking, my sight flickers through being tinted and not. Michael’s standing in the same spot seeming to never have moved.

  Ugh. . . That had to be embarrassing. I avoid meeting the wide eyes of the people in the restaurant glaring at me. It’s better just to walk away. I can’t hear anything, but I feel the many eyes follow me out. Gah, it’s just like before. Absolutely nothing has changed.

  It reminds me of when I was eight, sitting in a restaurant with Mom and Dad. Our waiter had approached with anger sewn so deep in his face I thought his words would come out in shouts when he asked for our order. But it wasn’t him who drew on my concern; it was the man at the table behind him. He had jumped from his seat and lashed at our waiter, stabbing him again and again with his steak knife. I was screaming as our waiter had fallen on top of our table, crying and begging for the man to stop as the waiter’s life had bled from his body, and he was soon dead. My tears had been falling as I held on to Mom, begging she call the ambulance and she save him. She’d had my shoulders in her hands, shaking me, trying to get me to calm down. She begged me to tell her what was happening and I did. But when she’d said, calm down and breathe. I did and found none of it had happened. My arms were clutched around her, I had risen from my chair, and my shirt was wet from my slob and tears. The entire restaurant was staring at me, and the manager had to ask us to leave because I scared the guest. That was episode number four, and when Mom had insisted I see Dr. Phisher without any negations from Dad.