I pace back and forth, hand thrusted in my curls, and I’m gnawing on my lip. Stumbling to a stop, I gasp. Nathan! I get no response. Nathan, I try again but get nothing. I panic, realizing something’s definitely wrong. Scott’s dying and Nathan’s hurt. No. I’m okay, which means he’s okay. Okay, Tracey. Calm down, girl. Hold it together.
I’m working on it, Nathan’s voice fires off. Give it a minute. She’ll be okay. Have a good day. He’s gone as soon as he came.
Running to Glen, I fall to my knees, looking her over. She isn’t conscious, but the shakes have ceased. Brushing my hand over her sweaty face, I wait for her to open her eyes. She doesn’t.
“Come on,” Olar grabs my attention. “Let’s get her in the car. She’ll come to by the time we make it to the school.” He carries Glen to the car, and I climb in the back with her.
Rubbing Glen’s head, I tell her pointless, reassuring words the remainder of the ride. I know she’ll be okay once the tie between her and Scott’s pain wears off. As soon as he’s able to separate himself from her, she’ll return to normal. Her red face almost makes her freckles disappear, but she breathes peacefully.
We make it to school, pulling into the full lot.
Glen twitches in my arms, and I try to wake her. “Glen, get up. Okay?” I beg.
Her eyes flutter. They roll around before finding me. She screams, arms and legs flailing as she tries to sit up. “What happened? Where’s Scott? Is he okay?” I hold her arms down.
“Everything’s fine. Just calm down,” Olar comfortingly assures her.
I match him. “Scott’s fine. You’re okay. Let’s get this day over with.” I gently pull her from the car, and she follows without a fight. As if nothing happened, she strolls at my side, but I see the worry for her mate in her eyes. “Nathan said he’s okay.” I wrap my arm around her waist. “He’ll probably check in with you shortly.”
All eyes are on us as we amble down the halls. I’d pose, wave, and blow a kiss at them if I weren’t trying to hold Glen up.
We’re bum rushed by our friends and Olar moves to stand between Glen and me as if we were his floozy protection. Not wanting to appear weak in front of the girls, Glen pulls herself together and pastes on her smile.
“Hey. Y’all wanna go out after?” Rachel asks, but her gaze is fixed on Olar.
A jolting pain shoots up my legs. I grab Olar’s arm to keep from crumpling to the floor. He helps me stabilize my footing, and we continue past them. Gah, Nathan. Be okay. I don’t know if it’s Nathan who’s getting hurt, or if it’s my body wanting Nathan that’s causing this pain, but these sporadic spasms are taking a major toll on me. Fatigued and inattentive, I sleep through each class. Rather, I passed out because I don’t remember going to sleep or feeling tired, just Olar getting me up and walking us to the next class.
“Maybe we should go home?” Glen suggests as we approach her broken locker. “I want to go home.”
I place my back to the row of lockers and slide to the floor, listening to her complain.
Olar takes up the space next to me. “I agree with her.”
I’ve probably worn him out today with his needing to keep a closer eye on me than usual.
Glen sits on my other side, laying her head on my shoulder. It feels like a boulder against my weak body.
If we go home, I know it would be worse, and we won’t do anything but sulk. Well, Glen and I will. Olar would be relieved. “This would eat at us if we go,” I respond to Glen, then say to Olar. “Sorry if we’re a headache.”
He reaches into his backpack, pulling out three bags of chips. Taking one, he hands me two. “You’re not bad. You’re handling it better than Nathan and I thought you would. Glen, on the other hand, probably needs me at her side more than you do.”
I give Glen a bag, turning away from her to the approaching teacher.
“Excuse me, but I believe eating is something done in the lunchroom,” Mrs. Kimble, our English teacher, articulates. Standing three feet in front of Olar, she gives him “the look,” lowering her lids as he tongues slides over her bottom lip
Argh! Not her too! Mrs. Kimble is one of the coolest teachers here but has a bad habit of not minding her own business.
Olar looks her over, a spark of interest causes movement in his irises that he hides with a blink.
She’s like a hundred. Don’t go there, I tell him.
He bursts out laughing. I smile, trying to give him a serious look. He shakes his head, cracking up, baring his always-sharpened teeth. Maybe that’s what everyone finds attractive. He looks dangerous and mysterious.
Glen leans forward. “Umm, I’m not included.”
“Apparently, neither am I.” Mrs. Kimble steps back, eyeing Olar over the bridge of her square glasses. She may be in her early fifties, but her make-up and style of clothing make her appear no older than thirty-five.
“Sorry,” Olar says, tone deep and honeyed. “We didn’t feel like the crowd today.” He admires her, licking his lips. She practically melts in her undies with trembling legs. But she holds it together well. It’s disgusting. “We’re going to sit here until next class.” He licks the corner of his mouth where his circle lip ring hugs his lip. Biting his bottom lip, he lets it slowly slide past his teeth, their points scraping into his skin. He gives her a tight smirk and remarks, “If that’s okay with you?”
She rubs her neck, nods, and then quickly gaits away with shaky legs. Her loud heels double step as she less than discreetly flees from us.
I’ll admit, that tongue action was sexy, but it’s Mrs. Kimble he’s wooing. “You know that’s nasty,” I tell Olar, noticing him watch Mrs. Kimble scurry away.
He laughs again. “It’s all in fun. I’m too old for the girls here, and she thinks I’m too young for her. It’s legal for me to play with her, but illegal for her to play back. May as well have my fun. Ya know?” He shrugs.
Glen fake-gags. “Oh, that is nasty.”
Olar chuckles. “If I weren’t on watch the girls’ duty, she’d be getting it in the utility closet right now.”
We laugh loudly, our humor echoing down the empty hall.
“Not the utility closet,” Glen banters, unable to stop laughing. “The photo lab’s much better. There’s a couch in there.”
I crack up, dropping my bag of chips.
Olar tilts his head back and pinches his nose. Forging his bogus thought, he taps his chin, and then quickly shakes his head. “Nah,” he objects. “No couch needed. Her heels are tall enough, I can bag her standing up.”
“Eww!” Glen and I gag, turning up our noses.
We laugh through the rest of lunch, talking about Olar’s disgusting interest in Mrs. Kimble and her unsubtle response to it. I appreciate the two of them making today a helluva lot easier. The distraction eases the discomfort and the sway Roehl and Nathan has on my mind. The joy in Glen’s brightening eyes and huge smile shows she’s better too.
Olar is surprising me. He’s opened himself up for our comfort and brightened his ‘ruthless’ image to one that’s a little less intimidating. But, English is awkward. Mrs. Kimble and Olar can’t be more obvious. He’s observably a distraction as she sits behind her desk, stealing admirable glances while rubbing the front of her neck. She can’t finish a complete sentence without flicking her gaze to the back of the classroom. I resist looking back at Olar to see in what ways he’s tempting her. She’s going to break some major teacher-student rules.
Standing, she passes out an assignment that requires we write a page-long essay on our thoughts of William Ernest Henley’s Invictus. She excuses herself once the class has settled down, and not five minutes later, Olar’s passing me.
I’ll be right back, Tracey. He looks at me before heading out of the door.
I gasp in awe, slack-jawed, unable to believe this is happening. Oh, I will tease him forever about this.
Five minutes before the bell rings, Mrs. Kimble returns looking more together than she left.
I leave cl
ass, spotting Olar waiting for Glen and me across the hall. “Really?” I jest, plucking a mop string from his shoulder and another from his hair. “Didn’t you see this stuff before you left?”
He knits his brows and smirks, trying to hold back his laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right,” I quip, smacking his stomach with the back of my hand.
He hooks his arms around Glen’s and my neck, and we head for Glen’s locker. “She’d started doing this thing with her legs and giving me this eye. You two were fine.”
I want to laugh, but I won’t draw attention to us. “Yeah, those fifteen minutes she was gone, nothing happened,” I state sarcastically. Glen laughs, kicking off my fit of giggles.
We leave for the parking lot, free of attackers and angry peers. At least of enemies, but the angry faces of our friends are another story. They block the doors of Taylor’s car. “Are you guys going out or not?” Rachel asks. “I mean, the least y’all can do is come since y’all stood us up over break and have been ditching us.” She puckers her lips and flicks her gaze to Olar. “And being around the hottest guys and not offering me one.” She winks at him.
I fight the urge to turn up my nose. “What are they, chocolate?”
She hitches a brow, staring Olar down, starting at his boots and stealthily moving up to his face. “If he wants to be,” she croons.
Wow. She’s serious. I drag my annoyed gaze away from her to Olar.
No! he enunciates arrogantly.
I chuckle. “No, thanks, Ray. We have plans today.”
“Whatever, Tracey.” She rolls her eyes and shifts her gaze to Glen. “And you?”
“Tracey answered for the group of us. If one don’t go, no one goes.” She shurgs. “Sorry, cupcake.”
Rachel huffs, irritated by our rejection. Ignoring the clear lack of interest Olar has for her, she walks up to him, leaning too close to his face. But he doesn’t move. Warbling in his ear, she whispers some un-lady like things that cause the corner of his mouth to twitch and a glimmer of interest to rest in his soft blue eyes. She wraps up her skanky secrets and turns off to leave, but Olar grabs her wrist, pulling her back to say in her ear, “I might have to take you up on that.”
After a kiss to his neck, she adds, “You name the place.” Then she walks off, following the other girls.
My lip curls, disgusted by their exchange. He will not be naming a place to meet her to do anything. I know Rachel and her slutty ways all too well, and she is not getting involved with my cousin too.
Olar returns my glare, blurting, “What?”
I avert my eyes, muttering, “Nothing. Don’t go there with her. You’ll catch something.”
“A blow job with a condom most likely won’t result in a sexually transmitted disease. Plus, there are perks to being able to heal yourself.”
Throwing my hand up, I cut him off. “Stop it, Olar. You’re turning my stomach.”
We pile in the car. “No fights today?” he asks jauntily, his good mood flourishing.
“Better not be,” I say, fueled by his relaxed disposition.
“I don’t want to sit around doing nothing. We don’t have to go straight to the house, do we?” Glen asks, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. The shiner Neil gave her is getting worse. She pats the bruised area with concealer, but it does nothing to lessen its appearance.
“I guess as long as we’re together, we could go somewhere,” Olar agrees, but he doesn’t sound sure. “We’ll just get Taylor first.”
Going home will bum me out after being so cheery the last few hours, and I’m enjoying their company. I’m up for going anywhere.
We sit around a table at the pig and cow restaurant Nathan and I often eat at. They have some pretty good burgers and it’s a nice spot for us to hang out. Justin tags along, and he and Taylor take up a lot of bystanders’ attention with their constant short pecks as they talk, whisper, and giggle. The people at surrounding tables mutter about how cute they are or how gross it is.
It’s jealousy that has me annoyed by their intimacy. I remind myself that I only have to make it through tomorrow, so I can indulge in my mate too.
Our food is dropped off at our table and we hold up the table until nine, laughing at the waitresses who are incredible at entertaining us with line dancing and fake country accents. We join their fun, stepping and twisting, and singing along to every song that plays over the speaker.
Olar drops himself and Justin off at their house, and we take the car to mine. I announce our arrival as I’m pushing closed the front door, but by the sound of Mom’s snoring, we’ve missed her. The girls and I are ready to pass out after showering and spreading out our blowup mattresses. Not short of saying goodnight, Glen’s out. I smile at her sleeping with an ice pack resting on her face. Though her cuts and bruises aren’t better, she looks livelier than she did this morning. It’s a relief to see Glen so much happier, and knowing her constant battle with her family, the constant smile on her face is refreshing. As long as she’s happy, it really doesn’t matter how long she takes to bond with our family.
Taylor and I are far from being able to sleep. We chat as we wait for it to kick in, which seems to be a long time coming. She changes the subject from a garden she’s starting, saying, “You know I never meant to hurt you and Nathan.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re okay with me, Taylor.” I’m tired but fear closing my eyes, not knowing what type of stuff my head will make up for me tonight. I think last night, when I did fall asleep, Roehl crept his way into my thoughts. I recall a distant memory from a dream of events I know I’d never participate in with him.
“Well, I’m sorry.”
There’s knocking against the front door that cuts into her apology.
I jolt upward, clutching the cover to my chest. An uneasy feeling pricks my flesh with skin pinching goosebumps, but I rise and cross the floor on my toes.
“Who is that?” Taylor asks, seeming to sense my hesitation.
They knock again.
“Not sure.” But whatever it is, something in me needs to see. It pulls me to find out.
“I’ll come with you.”
daunting calling
The door’s silent as I pull it open.
It’s the shimmer of his golden eyes that rolls a fire in me. A distinct desire of seeing something I want so badly, yet knowing I can’t have. That’s what it is about him; something too good to be good for me.
Roehl smiles. His golden teeth settle my sudden eruption as their sharp points reflect the light of the moon. A stinging pain radiates in my shoulder, and I rub it to lessen the discomfort. “Hey Tracey,” Roehl serenades. Without bass, my name drips from his smooth voice faultlessly, entering my ears with a pleasant ease that sparks a strange curiosity and tugs the corners of my mouth upward.
Taylor shoves me aside. “Why are you here?” she spits.
I stand on my tiptoes, barely able to look over her high shoulders.
Roehl gasps exaggeratedly; a mock of shock is in his stingy eyes. “Taylor! Where have you been hiding? You know, I’ve been trying to see you.” He moves a little closer, whispering to her, “I sent you an invite, but you never showed.”
“Why are you here?” she asks again.
“To check on Tracey,” he states matter-of-factly, golden gaze passing her and landing firmly on me.
A cool breeze blows past him and smacks me in my face. I inhale, filling my nose with his astounding scent. A peculiar aroma that hints at the scents of cedar and outdoors. It’s more appealing than I thought it’d be. My insides scream for me to go to him, and I struggle to hold my ground.
Roehl’s bad, right . . ?
“Check on her for what? She isn’t yours to concern yourself with,” Taylor scolds.
Placing his hand on the doorframe, Roehl leans forward, standing the same height as her. My gaze flicks from his eyes to his hand, and a small part of me wants to touch it just to see how it w
ould feel beneath mine. He peeks around her and soaks me in. “Not yet.” He winks that golden eye. “Right, Cey?” I fight a smile, chewing on the inside of my cheeks.
Leaning back, he steps away from Taylor, never taking his inducing bore off me. “Come here,” he invites, motioning me to him with a swift nod of his head. “Can we talk for a minute?” His honeyed voice couldn’t be more inviting, and his aroma is dancing around me from the cool night’s air. It encourages me to close this stricken distance between us. I lumber forward, attempting to walk around or maybe through Taylor.
She whips around and shoves me away from the door. “What the hell are you doing?” she asks, hand clenched around my forearm. She wrenches me back into the house. “Nathan! Remember!”
I blink, feeling my face twist in a tight contort. Grimacing, it sinks in like an anchor. My thoughts, my wants, my actions. I wanted him. I want him; like flowers to a bee—nectar to birds—he’s appealing in a way that’s not obsessive or overwhelming, but nourishing. My eyes widen as I realize the disgracefulness of my desires. I should not want Roehl! Stumbling back, I shake my head, gaze cast on the ground too ashamed to lift them and meet the eyes of my mate’s sister or his brother.
Roehl laughs, sending a sweet melody of titters through my ears. I flick my gaze to him, yearning for the indecent creature. Striding backward, he steps off the porch, fixing me with a stare that softens my hate. “Tell Nathan I have his mate, Taylor.” Turning on his heels, he adds, “I’ll be back for her when he returns. Wouldn’t want to take her without his consent.”
My rebuttal for his insinuation is stuck somewhere in the pit of my stomach, or under my foot, which only rises to kick myself in the ass as Roehl strides away.
How could I do this? I want to shout. Why would I want to go to him and deceive Nathan? I want to yell.
“Tracey, what the hell?” Taylor snaps, closing the door.
“I. I. I don’t know.” Panic makes me tremble. “I don’t understand.” Whatever just happened, I don’t . . . I can’t make sense of it. “I . . .” Tears cloud my eyes. “I’m wrong.” I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to. Something else took over me and for that split five minutes, he was like a high school crush I’ve been waiting to talk to since freshman year.
Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2) Page 10