Brian turned to the crowd. “Do you want to dance?”
Again she observed Chayton. His eyes locked with hers, his expression unreadable.
“I might go home.”
“Oh.” Brian frowned. “How’d you get here?”
“My brother dropped me off.” She rose from the seat and collected her purse. “But I’ll catch a cab.”
“I can take you.”
She waved a nonchalant hand. “No, stay. Don’t miss the party…”
Loud female laughter resounded from the dance floor, snagging her attention. Tears glistened in Chayton and Stacy’s eyes, their bodies shaking with the force of their amusement.
Amber bit the inside of her cheek. Not once had she experienced the pleasure of his laugh. It sounded delightful, husky, masculine, and most of all genuine. Hell, with her, he hadn’t once smiled.
Something tightened in her stomach, a strong fist clenching the organ. What were they, a couple? Did Stacy know about her? And could Amber be jealous?
Hell, no, I’m not jealous.
“Amber, I don’t mind. So, how about that ride?”
She smiled at Brian. “Sure.” They ambled out of the function, and she glanced over her shoulder, catching Chayton’s proprietary glower. A shiver danced down her spine. From the pressure of his rigid jaw, she expected his bones to shatter.
Two men from the reunion stood outside the hotel entrance. White clouds of their cigarette smoke drifted into the dark sky. “It’s high school all over again. They’re gonna have a private party in the backseat for old time’s sake,” one of them said, taking a long drag.
She sneered at the immature idiots, and expected Brian to do the same, but instead he grinned.
“Can you believe those rumours have stuck,” Brian asked. “Not many women let guys spread all those lies. You are one of a kind.”
Was he serious? She pretended to search in her purse, avoiding the conversation. They strode into the parking lot in awkward silence.
“You know what would’ve been better?”
“What?” She disliked the cheap, sleaziness overtaking his tone.
He stopped in front of a brown sedan, and she pointed to the vehicle. “Is this your car?”
Seizing her wrist, he backed her against the driver door. Her clutch slipped and landed to the ground with a thud. Lips parted, he lowered for a kiss.
“No, Brian.” She shrank back, twisting to miss his mouth. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, come on, Amber.”
“Get off, you idiot!” She shoved at his chest, but he trailed rough kisses along her neck.
“I am trying to get off.”
Her heart thrummed loudly, and she squirmed.
“What? Are you too good for me?” His tone changed from slimy playfulness to irritation. He clutched her hands in a single grip, suspending them above her. “So, if you didn’t screw me, who then? Jonathan? Dominic? You dated so many of us, and the same rumours about you spread.”
She huffed. “That’s none of your business. Now let me go!”
His cynical laugh rumbled in the air, and then he leaned in and bit her ear. She winced. A firm hand slid down her dress, beneath the hem, and squeezed her thigh.
If he inched any closer, she would hurl. She had to concentrate. “A frozen body, a frozen mind. May he freeze within this time—”
His chuckle interrupted her. “What are you on about?”
Of course. She possessed no power. How could she forget? White spots dotted her vision as real panic settled in. “Stop. Brian, I’m not kidding. I said stop!” Her thrashing was useless, her shouting, more so.
“Hey!”
Brian sneered behind his shoulder.
The sight of Chayton flooded her with anger. If the egotistical werewolf hadn’t thrown that stupid spell ball, she wouldn’t be helpless. Damn him.
“Got a problem, loser?” Brian asked.
Too distracted to realise she’d freed her arm, she curled her fingers and knocked his head, but never anticipated Chayton swinging his fist at the same time, making contact with Brian’s face. He fell to the ground from the double whammy, clutching his hair and nose.
One brow raised, Chayton shot her a quizzical look. His gaze shifted to Brian. “Problem solved.”
“You broke my nose,” he mumbled, blood seeping through his fingers.
Chayton grabbed him by the collar, and tugged him to his feet. “Get out of here, and don’t you ever touch her again.”
Brian staggered, and spat on the ground. “You can have the slut,” he slurred before rushing off.
For a long moment, Chayton stared. “You okay?”
What. The. Hell. “Am I okay?” she repeated in a ridiculous tone. “Am I okay!” She advanced, and slapped his face, his chest, his shoulder.
“Hey! Hey!” He captured her swinging arms. “Cut it out.”
Panting, she scowled. Her purse lay on the ground, and she bent to retrieve it.
“Here’s a hint,” he said. “You’re meant to thank the person who helped you, not attack them.”
“Helped me? I would have been fine if I possessed my powers. You haven’t helped me at all.” She fixed her dress, and unclipped her purse, searching for the plastic card. She would not stand here a minute longer. The credit card must be in one of these pockets…unless, she forgot it in her other purse. “Just great.” She zigzagged around the parked cars, heading for the main road.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” she called back, not bothering to slow her pace.
“Do you know how far the walk is?”
Yes, and already her heels hurt. She couldn’t make it home without calling Lucas.
“Hey, my truck is parked over there. Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Amber found her phone in her purse. “I’ll call my brother.” At this point, she would settle for phoning her mother.
“Why bother him when I can take you?”
“In all honesty, I felt safer with Brian.”
“Are you serious?” The question was a sarcastic statement.
A stupid thing to say, but instead of apologising, she continued marching. “Stacy is no doubt waiting for you.”
“She already left. She has work tomorrow and wanted an early night.”
Amber stopped and wheeled around. “You didn’t take your date home? How rude.”
He smirked and shrugged. “She’s not my date, we’re good friends.”
So they weren’t dating. Why did some of the tightness in her stomach ease? Maybe she should go with him, convince him to restore her magic on the drive home. “Where’s your truck?”
He led her to his vehicle, and even with the side-step, she struggled to hop in. Her dress rode up her thighs, and she tugged at the hem when seated in the passenger seat. “You must give me back my powers. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Out of the question.” He started the engine. “Don’t count on receiving your magic anytime soon, or ever, for that matter.”
“Asshole,” she muttered.
They drove in silence. Amber kept her gaze out the window, at the passing cars, the streetlights, and the few late-night pedestrians.
“You shouldn’t have left with him.”
The silence was nice until he spoke. A homeless man along the sidewalk stacked cardboard boxes, making his bed for the night. “That’s none of your business,” she retorted.
“As your mate, it is. You can’t go hooking up with any guy—”
“Hold on a second.” She whirled from the window. “I didn’t plan this. He offered me a lift home. How was I supposed to know he wanted sex in return?”
His gaze snapped off the road, zeroing in on her. “Do I really have to explain that, Amber Johnson?”
“Don’t do that,” she gritted with clenched teeth. “Pretend you know me. You know nothing about me.”
“Just like you know nothing about me. Hell, you don’t remember who I am. And yet, here we are, d
estined to be together.”
She bumped her head against the leather. “Our destiny means nothing.”
“Like hell it doesn’t. You’ve screwed with me time and time again, and not in the good way, might I add. No more, Amber. I will be leader of my tribe, therefore we’re going to be together, whether you’re willing or not.”
She slapped her hands on the dashboard. “Stop the car!”
“Why?”
“Because I think one rape threat is enough for tonight, don’t you?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He spared her a sidelong glance. “I would never force you to have sex with me.”
“You said if I’m willing or not—”
“I meant us as a couple. I don’t care about your opinion, because guess what, the world doesn’t revolve around you anymore, hasn’t for a long time. You saw tonight, the name Amber Johnson no longer holds any power. And I’m not just figuratively speaking.”
Bastard. “Do all men in your tribe treat their women this way, or should I consider myself lucky?”
“The men in my tribe, in particular those who plan to compete for the position of alpha have not only found their mates, but they love them, unconditionally. Finding a mate is meant to be the highlight of life for my people; one person, chosen for you and no other.” Chayton shook his head, as though what he comprehended about his culture no longer made sense. “Like I said, I will not force you. In fact, you’ll be unable to control yourself. A female mate can never resist her chosen. It’s like sexual chemistry on steroids.”
This conversation reminded her of a mating segment on some wild animal network.
“Our bodies will have a natural reaction to each other,” he continued, “lured by the need to complete our bond. I saw you in the dreams, walking to the ritual. Do you remember how anxious you felt each time, wanting to reach the campfire?”
Her black wolf. “You’re Darkness! Wha…but, how...?”
“Because we dream-shared. I experienced the same emotions, the desperation to complete our bond. Oh, and by the way, I hated when you called me Darkness.”
She almost whimpered. Her wolf, the animal who gave her peace and calm…all this time it was the jerk next to her. She desired to sink her nails into the seat, but couldn’t afford to pay for ruining the leather.
“Why do you suppose we race to the campfire?” he continued. “Us, the marking, and the completion of our joining is meant to take place there. I never saw your face from a distance, but everything made sense when I saw your marks that night.”
“This all sounds a little overdramatic, Chayton. Ever consider I fancied being at the campfire for s’mores while singing ‘Kumbaya’?”
His lips tugged into a small smile. “You know that’s not true.”
What made him so sure? Besides, she had standards, and he did not meet them. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”
“Yes.” His tone evinced smug confidence. “We will.”
The truck veered to the side and skidded to a stop. He undid her seatbelt, grasped her shoulders and hauled her above the gear stick. She yelped, dropping into his lap. The position made her dress ride up. She raised her palm, but he captured her wrist, suspending it in the air. His free hand secured her waist, tugged close, and she sank further into him, aware of his hardness. Adrenaline raced in her veins, exciting her. He cupped the nape of her neck, tilted, and fixed his mouth over hers.
She fought the headiness, focused on the fury, and struggled for freedom. But squirming made her glide against him. The friction it caused not only affected her, but aroused him more. Shallow breaths and soft murmurs erupted between kisses. All sensibility lost, she eased into his lap, glad the aching part of her strained along the thick length clad in his jeans. With a soft cry, she parted to deepen their embrace, and he released her wrist. His tongue toyed with hers, and she clutched the lapels of his jacket, holding tight.
Large hands caressed her through the dress, over the peaks of her nipples. His fingers slid between her legs, stroking her inner thigh. When had she last experienced the intoxication of hot intimacy? She couldn’t recall. Which answered her question; too long. From the top of her sodden thong he traced, and she gasped. She craved him deeper, needed him inside. Right here, right now, she was his without protest. “Oh,” she cried when his thumb trailed under the lace and made contact with her skin.
“Is this for me, Amber?” He purred in a strained voice. A single finger also seeped beneath her panties and found her entrance, slipping in and out. “Is your wetness for me?” he demanded.
“Yes.” She stilled her hips, allowing him to control the pace. Fast in, slow out, fast in again. Soft coos erupted deep within her throat, and echoed the small space.
“You can’t deny how much you need this is, need me,” he whispered against her lips.
A second finger met the first, pumping faster. Her inner walls clasped him. The sensation was so right, it should have been wrong. She inhaled. Oxygen cleared her mind, and provided a harsh awareness; she just proved him right.
“No. No.” She shimmied back, and his fingers slipped out. His erection tented his jeans, and she quickly peered into his eyes, before she did something stupid like stroke him.
The slitted gleam matched the cynical curl of his lip. “Not willing, huh? I believe the warm wetness running down my fingers says otherwise. I must say, I’m unsure if you reacted to our bond just now, or if I witnessed typical Amber Johnson at her best.”
He was too smug to see it coming when she struck his face. Pins and needles thrummed her fingers, but the satisfaction at seeing his head loll was worth it. “Let me make myself clear, Chayton,” she rasped, voice trembling. “Whether we share the same marks, or my parents admire you, or this bonding thing makes me want to jump your bones, I don’t care. I have a right to make a choice.”
She threw open the driver door and leaped out of the huge vehicle. Bad idea. On impact she wobbled and fell to her knees, grazing them across the asphalt.
“Shit.” She kicked off her shoes, not surprised to find one of them broken. What did she expect after shooting out of a truck in six-inch heels?
“Amber!”
She seized the shoes and sprinted down the street, ignoring the shouts and flashing lights of Chayton behind her. Tears dripped off her chin as she dashed up the driveway. The porch light glowed. She rushed into the house, ran upstairs, and locked herself in her bedroom. Her back smacked the door, and she sagged to the carpet. Blood smeared her burning knees.
Damn him.
He thought he understood her? He didn’t. No one did. She wiped her face with a fist. Why did he treat her this way? She struggled to shaky legs, and stalked to the walk-in closet. Boxes with her old stuff sat on the top shelf.
On her tiptoes, she withdrew the bright pink one, and placed it on the bed. Her black and red cheerleading uniform rested on top, and she shoved it aside, scrambling amongst loose photos and awards. The yearbooks, just what she needed.
Excursions and sport events filled the pages, but she flipped through until she found the grade nine students. Row after row, she searched for the name rather than the face. There, in capital letters. CHAYTON LOCKLEAR. A picture of a young, scrawny boy with glasses and long hair sat above the name.
She observed the small face smiling at her. Her heart thumped fast in her chest. Memories raced forth, similar to the flash of a camera. In fact, they never left. She remembered this boy, the one she teased, how she always shouted snide remarks when he passed the halls, or pointed and laughed at him with her friends. Fresh tears trailed her skin, and she slumped at the edge of her bed.
“Amber? Amber, can you hear me?”
“Chayton?” she whispered.
“Oh, thank God. Look, I was out of line. You might think we should let this go, but I can’t. I need this, Amber. I need you. Please, give me a chance.”
She stroked the picture of the younger, innocent and helpless version of him. Why had she been so cru
el? “I know, and you’re right…things did get carried away,” she said, her voice low, repentant, and far from the subject at hand. All those times she picked on him, tormented him, and here he was, ready to give them a shot. They shared the same marks, they were mates. Oh, how he must hate the fact! She owed him, big-time. “I’ll do it, I’ll be with you.”
Chapter 9
Amber packed the DSLR camera into her bag, and placed it with her suitcase. This wasn’t the first time she’d moved out. After college, she had rented an apartment with a few friends, but practicing witchcraft in front of non-witches proved difficult. She’d been left with no choice but to relocate home.
“You’re awake.” Her mother’s voice boomed in the doorway.
Amber didn’t dare turn.
“Care to explain where you went last night…”
No, actually, she didn’t. Maybe if she stuck a sign on her forehead which read “I’m twenty-three” her mother might hop off her broomstick and stop treating her like a teenager.
Footsteps patted closer. “What are you doing?”
Shoes lay across the bed, and Amber stuffed them into a bag. “I’m moving in with Chayton. He should be here soon.”
Had Taylor left? She didn’t bother checking. No doubt unfamiliar with the emotion, her mother’s brain probably took a little longer communicating messages of happiness to the nervous system.
“Oh, this is fantastic.”
Yes, just what she predicted. Of course she was thrilled by the news. Now Taylor could gossip with the other witches at the country club. Oh yes, the respectable Johnson clan and their devotion to creating peace between the species. Blah. Blah. Blah.
“I’m so proud of you.”
The pile of folded shirts slipped from her hand when her mother hauled her in for a hug, and squealed like a schoolgirl. Proud? Amber gaped. A lifetime waiting to hear that word, and yet she wasn’t greeted with satisfaction.
“I must call your father.” Taylor all but skipped out the room and shut the door, the scent of lavender and coffee lingering behind.
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