THE EMPRESS OF MYSTH 8: ANGEL’S HOME: (An Alpha Alien Sci-fi Romance & Fallen Angel Paranormal Series)

by Meg Xuemei X

  “Convince me,” I say, keeping him on the track.

  “I’m a painter, not a linguist. Why do I need to learn English?” He rolls his eyes.

  “Oil painting started from the West, right?”

  “So?” He sends me a despondent look.

  “It’ll be of great help if you can read descriptions in English in the art books.”

  “I can read the translation fine! And don’t forget the best classic oil paintings come from French artists. Should I study French too?” He snorts. “Why not just kill me! It’s easier.”

  They say men are like children. Kai has just proved that to be the case. “There is no easy path in life, Kai,” I say. “If English is what it takes to get into the art college, then suck it up and get on it!”

  That shuts him up. “I didn’t know you were such a smart mouth.” He considers me. “What else don’t I know about you?”

  Yeah, if you knew me as a kid, you’d know my words used to draw blood. But I keep it to myself.

  “And you don’t talk like a fourteen-year-old,” he says with an accusing tone, but I hear respect in it.

  “A lot of people made the mistake of judging me by my age,” I say.

  “I promise not to be one of those unfortunate people.” His lips twist into a lopsided smile. “If you give me an example.”

  He wants to know more about me, including my past, but I don’t intend to go there. “If you want, I can tutor you on English,” I offer.

  “You?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Don’t you know that even though no one likes me, I’m still a straight-A student?” I add bitterly, “If there was no age restriction, or if I had a sponsor, I would be in college already.”

  It’s no exaggeration the teachers like me even less than the students. To them, I’m an arrogant freak and brute who happens to have excellent grades.

  I should be among those few talented students that are sent directly into the top universities. But the teachers won’t report my grades to the higher education authorities.

  In order to prepare for my future as an astronaut, I’ve been teaching myself advanced physics. I know more than the teachers can offer and they know it too. They hate me for it.

  “I like you,” Kai murmurs, “a lot.” Musing for a second, he adds, “More than you know.” Then he yawns. “Even though you don’t like me at all, as you’ve emphasized.”

  I open my mouth, but then quickly close it, knowing it’s better not to say anything. The way he tells me that he likes me more than I know makes my heart stutter. For a moment, I truly regret agreeing to see him. If every time I must go through this heart-pounding, breath-shortening, and mind-freezing process, I’m really going to have a short life, just like my mother cursed. And I don’t plan to let her prophecy come true.

  When I get home, I lie on my hardwood board bed, staring at the ceiling and want to knock myself out. Why not just let him carry on his seduction and see where it ends? The more I resist him, the stronger his magnetic pull is. It has become a form of torment. If I’m already in hell, why not just ride all the way?

  But then, what will happen? You’ll become one of the girls, his collections.

  That cools my head, but I can’t brush off the memory of the boy’s scent and the spark I felt when he stood inches behind me. My mind savors his playful, hypnotic words “You like me, Xirena” in a loop until I scream at myself to stop.

  I begin to mentor Kai on English to tone down our energy, but we limit the tutoring to half an hour after our first session. I have little patience and he has a short attention span when it comes to studying subjects other than painting. More than a few times, I almost throw the pencil at his chiseled, beautiful face when he can’t get it right or isn’t paying attention.

  A week goes on like this, and I’m pleased with the result. His English is improving, and he doesn’t try to reduce the space between us. When I read science books at his studio, he keeps painting. And when I occasionally raise my head to look at him, he’s still light-years away, absorbed in his art. I can never enter that world, but I look in from outside with admiration.

  He’s been working on a new portrait with a dedication I’ve never seen, and he refuses to let me see it before it’s done. He tells me the model comes when I’m not around.

  When he finally allows me to see his finished painting, I’m speechless—it’s a portrait of a full-figured knockout. I instantly connect her to a new, pretty face that I’ve spotted in his studio from behind the curtain of my window. Kai calls her Ming Zhu, meaning Pearl. She looks his age, or maybe a little younger. I also recall that the twins gave the new girl attitude.

  Ming Zhu radiates beauty in a red gown on the canvas, and her exposed creamy shoulders and long neck exude seduction.

  Is that why Kai has stopped breathing down my neck? Ming Zhu is obviously his new obsession. The memory of him staring at her portrait with adoration over the past week rushes back, stinging me. He didn’t allow me to see the painting as if it were his most valued treasure, until this last moment. All the gossip and rumors about Kai and other girls flood back like an unpleasant smell.

  I’ve been a fool!

  “She’s strikingly beautiful,” I say in a controlled tone.

  Kai sends me a lazy look. “Yeah, she’s very pretty.”

  For a while, I don’t speak. And Kai waits for me to fling him another question like a dog expects a treat. Only I don’t find it amusing.

  “Do you see her often?” I ask, trying to sound carefree and even a little jolly, but my voice comes off like a cat’s cry at night. I should have stuck to what I know. If I use a cold or a flat tone, it sounds more natural and plausible.

  “I’ve told you she comes while you’re not around,” he says casually while shooting me a meaningful look. “Like everyone else.”

  Why did he give me that stealthy look? And what does he mean that when I’m not around, she’ll be with him? Then it strikes home: he’s been separating that girl and me, so he can have both dishes. Of course, she’s the entree, the lamb chop, and I’m the side dish, like a pickled cucumber. She’s with him in public, shining in the light, while he hides me in the dark. He’s ashamed of me! I’m nobody but a fourteen-year-old pre-mature girl with breasts the size of ping-pong balls.

  Before I know it, a stone falls to the pit of my stomach. The impact produces acid, which comes right up to my throat, searing it. My eyes blaze with smoke and pain.

  Cool off! the small part of my brain that hasn’t been infected shouts. The boy never promised you anything! When he first came to you, he only said that he wanted to get to know you as a friend.

  The smoke in my eyes thins as reason tries to reach me. Kai and I are merely friends. I have no right in demanding more. It’s best this way. Haven’t I repeatedly told myself I want no complications before I get the hell out of town?

  But madness continues to breach my filter and savagely whacks my good sense. “Do you like her?” I manage to ask, stumbling toward my land of ice.

  “She’s all right.” He grins, as if savoring the delicious times he spent with her, and the flavor still hangs back on his tongue. In order to highlight his marvelous memories of her, he lets his gaze linger on the red-dressed girl’s naked shoulders.

  All I want is to grab the palette and throw paints at him and wipe the smugness and look of pleasure off his face.

  I have to use every ounce of control not to strike him. You’re not a brute anymore! my reason shouts. I’d better leave now before I do something I’ll regret. At this point, I can’t even plan a cool retreat and say, “Well, I hope you have all the fun in the world!”

  I can’t let out a syllable. I turn to the door and jerk it open before fury and humiliation completely overtake me.

  Kai lunges, faster than a leopard, and jams himself between the door and I, blocking my exit. His face becomes deadly serious, panic in his eyes. “You hate people teasing you, don’t you?” he asks, grasping my shoulders as if afr
aid I’ll slip away forever. “But I have to know how you feel. You always seem so indifferent to me. So, I pretended to be smitten with the model. I wanted to get a reaction from you. I must know your true emotions.” He gazes down at me with satisfaction. “You’re not as others said. You do feel.”

  “I feel nothing!” My words spit fire. “And you don’t get to play games with people!”

  “I’m sorry I made you so mad,” he says, “but I’m not playing games with you, Xirena. I might test you, but I’ll never play games with you.” His hands on my shoulders are warm and gentle, but I hate his touch. The taste of acid is still in my mouth. I shake his hands off. “Now let go of me!”

  His grip on me only tightens. He doesn’t allow me to shake him off. As I struggle fiercely, he pulls me into his arms. In the grip of fury, I try to tear myself from him, but his arms are as strong as iron.

  “I can’t let you go, Xirena.” He bends down, speaking softly in my ear. “I’ll never let you go.” His lips slightly rub against my cheek. If I weren’t momentarily confused by his caress, I’d lift up my knee and kick him in the nuts.

  Maybe I don’t really want to leave the harbor of a hard-muscled chest, strong arms, and a warm torso. I don’t know when the fight left me. I barely register his soft whispers as he holds me tight. “I know once I let you go, you’ll never come back. And I can’t bear it,” he says.

  I press my face against his chest. His heart beats as fast as mine, only more powerfully. His strength and body heat calm me.

  “My life is an open door,” his deep, magnetic voice continues to soothe me. “As you can see, there is no other girl, only you. Others are merely models and friends.” He seems satisfied by my stillness in his embrace. “It doesn’t matter how many pretty faces are out there, I see only you. The others are paper flowers.”

  While I’m still bewildered by his proximity and his scent, I start mentally checking the facts.

  He hasn’t lied about being an open door. Ever since he moved to this neighborhood, he’s kept his door and windows open when he’s inside his studio. There is unceasing traffic here—his artist friends and models file in and out as if it were their lair. Only when I’m with him, or when he isn’t around, does the door stay closed.

  “Why me?” I keep a pinch of suspicion in my voice.

  “No one else held my interest,” he says, “not until I met you. You’re the first girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He gently draws himself back from me so he can see me face.

  My formerly scorching eyes have become a tranquil lake in the moonlight. He’s succeeded in sedating the beast in me. Under his searching gaze, I try to mask my bashful expression.

  But he’s captured it all. Warmth sparks in his eyes. “You have a thousand subtle expressions, which is a blessing to a painter’s eyes. I only hope one day I’ll see . . .” He stops, a doubtful look shadowing the golden specks of his eyes.

  See that I smile? I send him a slant look. “Good luck,” I say. If he can’t live without my smile, then it’s best we part ways sooner than later. I shift my position, no longer feeling comfy in his arms, my eyes darting toward the door.

  Noticing my glance toward the door, he kicks the door shut and tucks a hand under my chin, forcing me to raise my face to him. “I know it’s hard for you, but can you at least try to learn to trust me, one small step at a time?”

  I make no promises.

  But he’s unyielding. He holds me there. He needs my answer.

  “Trust is earned. It can’t be given freely,” I speak roughly.

  He blinks, and then an appreciative smile crosses his lips. “Fair enough. I’ll earn your trust.”

  “Then,” I swallow, “I’ll learn to trust you.”

  Joy springs to his face, but not mine. The moment the promise flies out of my mouth, I feel lightheaded. Fright comes next. Trust is not in my make-up. I won’t keep up with this kind of commitment.

  He must have seen a flicker of pain on my face. His eyes soften. His thumb, callused from playing guitar and practicing martial arts, traces across my cheek with such tenderness that it expels my resentment. “You don’t need to do anything,” he says. “Just let me earn it, and then you decide if you want to trust me or not. I’ll not ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  He means that! But before I breathe easily, I recall my bargain. “Just so you know,” I meet his gaze, “I don’t compete. I’ll not demean myself. I don’t fight over boys and never will.”

  “You have no competition,” he says. “And you’ll never need to worry about that.”

  A name surges into my mind. “What about the angel twin?”

  He looks confused for half a second, then a shadow falls over his face, but it lasts no more than another half second. A crooked smile dances in his eyes. “You know about Sha Sha? What about her?”

  “Everyone thinks you two make a perfect couple,” I say.

  He studies my face, but I reveal nothing.

  “Everyone thinks that, except me,” he says in a resigned voice. “Sha Sha is the sweetest girl I’ve ever known, and I don’t like to hurt her.”

  A sour feeling congests my chest again. I hate to have a reaction like this, but hearing Kai calling another girl the sweetest isn’t music to my ears, although I have no illusions about my less than sweet personality. It irritates me more to hear him claim, “I don’t like to hurt her,” especially when he’s just made me a promise. I resume a bored look. This is it. I won’t come back here.

  Kai’s gaze fixes on a far point outside the window. A rueful expression reduces his eye color to that of a dry leaf.

  “Then don’t,” I say.

  He snaps back at me with a quizzical look.

  “Don’t hurt her then. Don’t do things you don’t like to do,” I say. “And best of luck with everything. I gotta go.”

  “Go?” His voice sharpens.

  “Yeah, go home.” I try to remove his hands from my arms in a cool manner. “I have to go home.” I’d better leave before he kindly offers me another rollercoaster ride.

  His hands only tighten on me. “We still have time. Why do you have to leave now?” And then he sees the alienated expression in my eyes. “Is it that hard to trust me, Xirena?” he says. “What I meant about Sha Sha is everything would be easier if I could return her feelings. But I can’t. I don’t feel for any girl but you. You’ve caught me. I don’t know why and how. It just happened.”

  “I didn’t catch you! I’m not honey for a fly,” I say. Then my cheeks flame. I shouldn’t compare him to a fly. He’s too handsome for that, but this boy is insane. Even I admit he’s better off with anyone than with me. “I’m not even sweet on you,” my low voice is lull.

  He laughs. “You’re the honey, and you’re sweet to me. You just don’t know it yet.”

  When I try to recall when I’ve ever been sweet, my confused expression brings out more laughter from his chest. “Xirena, you shouldn’t have listened to the gossip. I have many frenemies who love to spread rumors about me. Even if you see Sha Sha hang out in my studio like the others, you should know there’s nothing between us.”

  “What does the gossip have to do with me?” I ask, offended that he’s suggesting I’m a sucker for gossip.

  “Because more of them will come. I don’t want you to distrust me, and then get mad at me and never want to see me again, like you’ve been doing ever since you stepped into my studio today,” he says. “Sha Sha is a longtime family friend. I grew up with the twins when my family moved to this town. I can’t ask them not to come to my place and not to be my friends, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about her and me.”

  “I don’t like complications,” I grunt.

  “There’s no complication,” he says. “There’s only you and me.”

  I consider him with a blank look.

  “I’ve never locked the door when I’m with any of the girls alone in my room, except with you,” he says. “Doesn’t that mean something?
”

  I finally nod.

  The tension wears away like rain retreating from the horizon before it falls to the earth. I feel the need to rest. Kai is quicker to drop to a comfortable chair. When I look around to find one for myself, he pulls me onto his lap.

  As I fall onto his soft, firm, and warm thighs, my back stiffens for a second before it arches and melds into the shape of his torso. Before I know it, I’ve flung my arms around his neck.

  I’m flying among the trees in the swinging sunlight. The birds beat their wings nearby, telling a dazed me there is no threat. And yet, my heart flutters more rapidly than their wings.

  “I can’t believe such a small thing can be so fierce.” He chuckles.

  I tilt my head and look at him.

  “I made up my mind about you the first time you shot me your signature icy look,” he says. “No one has ever given me the cold shoulder. In fact, no one has rejected me before.”

  The trees, the sunshine, and the birds abandon me as if they were a mirage. My eyes narrow to slits. “You want to be with me because I’m hard to get?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant!” he says. “You see, Xirena. You’re used to being suspicious of everything. Can we just break that habit, starting now?”

  “Help me out here,” I say, my eyes cold and appraising, “You’re an artist. An artist has eyes only for beauty. So let’s not kid each other here. I’m not even average looking. Unlike your pretty models, I’m ug—” I wave a hand in exasperation, “I’m plainer than plain Jane. So how could you want me?”

  Kai looks perplexed, as if I were talking about someone else. Then feeling returns to his eyes. “What are you talking about?” His voice is a magnetic whisper. “Of course you’re not average-looking. You are enchantingly, provocatively beautiful, Xirena. And you have supreme intelligence. Don’t you know that you have enslaved me?”

  I don’t need him to remind me of my IQ. But, I am enchantingly beautiful? I have exquisiteness?

  Then multiple voices toss all the names at me. Sneaky, mousy, ugly cockroach, thief’s eyes, dead thing, brute . . . they’re the voices of my family, my schoolmates, and the townspeople. These names from my past that branded me threaten to carry over to the future and bury me alive again.