Wuther

by V. J. Chambers

  But he simply rested his hand on the curve of her belly, almost reverently. “Does it move in there?”

  “Sometimes,” she whispered.

  He kissed her just below her belly button. “If things were different… god, I’ve been so stupid, Cathy. The things I said to you. I never should have—”

  She silenced him, putting her fingers to his lips.

  He kissed them.

  He gazed into her eyes, and she felt their connection. It had been a long time. She’d forgotten how intense it was. She thrust her hands under his wet shirt, yanking it off. Her hands moved over the planes and valleys of his solid, smooth skin.

  He groaned.

  Outside, the wind roared, knocking tree branches into the windows. It sounded like the world was ripping itself apart.

  His arms encircled her, and he deftly unclasped her bra. He slowly pulled the wet, satin fabric away from her skin, uncovering her slowly.

  Her breath caught in her throat in anticipation.

  And then her breasts were bare.

  He tossed the bra on the floor with her shirt, his gaze never leaving her body. His lips parted, and he stared at her, taking her in. “You’re beautiful.”

  She looked down at herself. She didn’t feel beautiful. She started to protest.

  But Heath’s mouth closed over one of her nipples, gently tugging it into his mouth.

  And she lost the ability to speak because of the pleasure that was moving through her, unraveling her.

  His hand found her other breast, cupped it. He teased her nipple erect with his thumb.

  She cried out.

  And suddenly, she was in a frenzy. She had to have him. Now.

  She ripped open his pants, tugging them off, wriggling out of the rest of her clothing.

  He caressed her thighs, pushing her down on the bed.

  She sighed, seeking his lips again.

  His mouth was liquid heat. His body was firm and silken.

  They slid against each other, and she remembered that she was tied to him with bonds that were unbreakable. She remembered that she’d felt that they were two parts of one being.

  She shoved him into the headboard, straddled him, and took him into her body.

  And then, she dissolved.

  There was nothing but gasps and sighs, caresses and strokes, a tumbling together of their bodies, so sweet, so pleasurable.

  She lost herself in him. He was inside her. She was gripping him. He moved in her, her hips undulated against him.

  She wasn’t only herself anymore. Alone, she was hollow and halved. Now, she was complete and perfect. Joined to Heath. Her Heath. And their bodies were moving together as a new being. Whatever it was she and Heath made together. They were something transcendent, something beyond two human bodies. Something bigger than that.

  How could she have thought of being away from him?

  Their climaxes ebbed over them together, at the same moment, and there was no need to announce her orgasm, the way she did with Eli. Heath knew.

  Belatedly, she realized it was the first orgasm he’d ever given her.

  It was beautiful—achingly sweet like the sunset outside. Her body was splintered with pleasure the way the sun split the sky with color. Her climax rocked her to the core, trembling through her—earthquakes of aftershocks, one after another. She thrashed and moaned and sighed her way through it. It was an exclamation point to her connection with Heath. It blew through her like the storm winds, knocking her over, leaving her gasping.

  But orgasm wasn’t the point of their love making. It was just part of the experience, the final cresting of their souls twining together. She’d had sex for the purpose of orgasm before. That was what she did with Eli. Now, it seemed somehow selfish and closed minded. The reason to make love was simply to be joined, to experience a spiritual connection. Orgasm seemed frightfully trivial and physical.

  And afterwards, she collapsed on his chest, with him still inside her.

  She breathed, and he breathed with her, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm.

  “You’re my sister,” said Heath.

  The words didn’t register for several minutes. It took time for them to filter through her ears, descend on her brain, and then for her to react.

  She sat up. “What?”

  He pushed her off him. His penis slid wetly from her body. “Matt talked to me about my mother and Floyd, and it makes sense.”

  She let her brain make the necessary connections. “Makes sense?”

  “Matt doesn’t think my mother was pregnant when she moved into the tenant house.”

  “Your mother and my father…” The realization of it settled through her, and it was painful, like jagged ice cutting up her insides. She drew into herself, hunching her shoulders, grabbing onto her elbows. “No.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before we…” His gaze raked her naked body.

  “No,” she said. “No, that can’t be.” Being with Heath was the most natural thing on earth. And if he were actually her brother, that would be unnatural. So there was no way that it could actually be true.

  There was a noise from the door—metal scraping metal. She turned at the sound of it, but didn’t know what it was.

  “I think it is,” said Heath. “At any rate, you’re with Eli. It doesn’t matter. But I’ll go. I’ll give up. None of it matters.”

  No. The way they’d made love… She’d remembered that she belonged with him. She and Heath were eternal. Somehow, she’d forgotten, but now she couldn’t let him go.

  Her brother?

  No.

  The door opened, and Eli stood there, a key in his hand. That had been the scraping sound. The key in the lock.

  He took them both in, made a strangled sound like a hurt puppy, and then shut the door without saying.

  Heath started putting on his pants. “I’m going to go.”

  “Please, wait,” she whispered. Everything was confusing. “Maybe I don’t care.”

  Heath looked at the door. “I hope I haven’t screwed things up for you and Eli. We don’t have a future, Cathy.”

  He buttoned his pants, picked up his shirt and shoes and went out the patio door, back out into the rain.

  The door didn’t latch after him. The wind picked it up and slammed it against the house, again and again.

  * * *

  When Heath got back to the tenant house, Isabella was sitting on the porch.

  He glared at her. She was the last person he wanted to see at that moment. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you,” she said. “I thought that maybe we could—”

  He shook his head. “The first thing you need to realize, Isabella, is that it’s a mistake to refer to me and you as ‘we.’ There is nothing between us. You understand?”

  She blinked, looking hurt. “I only thought—”

  “Really, in all the time you’ve been alive, haven’t you realized that maybe thinking isn’t your strong suit?” He swept past her into the house. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d get the hint and go home. How much crueler could he be to the girl? Why did she keep coming back for more? Did she enjoy pain?

  She followed him. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to push me away because you’re afraid of being close to someone. You’re afraid if you actually care, then you’ll fall apart, and everything will hurt. Well, it’s not going to work.”

  He went up the stairs to the room he’d been sleeping in and began to shove his clothing into suitcases.

  Isabella appeared in the doorway. “Are you leaving?”

  “Go away, Isabella,” he said.

  “Where are you going?”

  He slammed the suitcase into the bed. “What is wrong with you? I don’t like you. I hate you. I only fucked you because I wanted to make Cathy jealous, and because I hate your brother. Go away.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Nice try. I’m not going anywhere. I’m coming with you.”
>
  He groaned. She was giving him a headache. “Leave this house, or I’m going to hit you.”

  “Heath, I know that you and Cathy have this weird, twisted thing, but you have to realize it’s going nowhere.”

  “Why do you think I’m leaving?”

  “All I’m saying is that if you opened yourself up to the possibility of loving someone else, if you just tried, then maybe things would get better.”

  He looked at her. She was a pretty girl, and she was kind of cute the way she was begging him. She was so… sweet. He swallowed. Could he do it? Could he try to be with someone that much like a little kitten?

  No.

  Definitely not.

  He went to her. “I’m going to tell you one last time, Isabella. Leave.”

  She shook her head defiantly. “I won’t.”

  He turned away, dragging a hand over his face. “I warned you.” When he turned, he drove his fist into her pretty little face.

  She shrieked, backing away from him, hand to her cheekbone, where he’d clocked her.

  He laughed. “You stupid bitch. Get away from me.”

  The look in her eyes made him laugh harder. She was so surprised. Hadn’t she been listening to a word he’d said?

  And finally, she left, scurrying down the steps and out the front door.

  * * *

  Cathy felt like everything was closing in on her. The guest room, the patio, the furniture.

  Eli was out there somewhere. He knew that she’d had sex with Heath. He was hurt. Angry, probably, and she’d have to deal with all of that.

  But she couldn’t handle that right now.

  She had to get out of the house, out from underneath the ceilings. She ran from the guest room, outside into the storm, into the rain.

  She tried to run so fast that she didn’t have to think about it.

  Heath her brother?

  She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it before. She knew that Daddy and Mama Galloway were in a romantic relationship—albeit a completely messed-up one, considering that Daddy was always beating Mama. And Mama Galloway had always treated her and Heath like they were brother and sister. She and Heath had often slept in the same bed up until they were seven or eight years old. They’d been so young.

  God.

  She had a memory. It was so strong, and so awful that it stopped her.

  Daddy at the top of the stairs. Do you know what you’ve been kissing? Do you know who—

  That was why he’d tried to keep them apart. He’d known.

  But why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t he sat her down and explained that Heath was her brother?

  Daddy was probably ashamed of the fact that he’d procreated with Mama. Her family had a touch of racism, deep seeded. She’d always seen it in the way that Matt had treated Heath. Even though it was ridiculous. Heath was dark-skinned, but he was Caucasian.

  But now she could see it, and it was so obvious. Heath was her brother. She’d lost her virginity to her brother.

  She’d spent most of her life obsessed with him.

  He was the greatest love of her life.

  She couldn’t bear it.

  She ran again, fast as she could, screaming into the rain, shaking her fists at the lightning. She wanted to express what she felt physically, to somehow manifest her torment and agony. But there was no way to do it. No matter how she ran, or how she screamed—until her throat was sore and her voice was a rasp—or how she sobbed, or how often she tripped and fell, beating her hands on the ground, gnashing her teeth together. There was no way to let it out.

  It was going to consume her.

  She ran into the road, dodging headlights when they came for her, insensible to anything except her own anguish.

  It was one physical feeling that brought her back.

  Hot wetness on her thigh, leaking from her body.

  She thought it was what Heath had left in her, but the lighting flashed, and she saw that it was bright red.

  Blood.

  The baby, she thought.

  * * *

  Eli crossed his arms over his chest.

  “It’s a subchrionic hemorrhage,” said the doctor. “They aren’t uncommon in early pregnancy, and they often resolve themselves on their own, but it could be a worry. She may miscarry.”

  Cathy was in another room, her eyes staring senselessly at the ceiling. His sister Isabella had come home with a black eye which Heath had given her. Apparently, after Heath had finished fucking Eli’s girlfriend, Heath had beaten up Eli’s sister. Then he’d run off. Isabella confirmed that Heath was gone.

  Cathy was numb and miserable the last time that Heath had left. Eli remembered how depressed she’d been.

  It wasn’t fair, Eli thought. It wasn’t fair that Heath got to destroy everything and run away, leaving Eli to try to put together the pieces. Why should he have to? What did he owe Cathy, anyway? Infidelity was cause enough for divorce. He could certainly just break up with her.

  The doctor was still talking. “I recommend bed rest. She should avoid any strenuous activity or movement. No sex. And we’ll watch her and see what happens.”

  Eli nodded. Whatever the doctor said. Maybe he’d just relay the information to Matt, and tell him that Cathy was his responsibility now.

  “She seems… upset,” said the doctor.

  That was an understatement.

  “I’m sure you understand that hormonal changes during pregnancy can create emotional symptoms in women,” the doctor said. “So for her sake, and for the sake of the baby, it might be best to avoid subjects that would put her in a passion.”

  Great. So, it would be a bad idea for him to confront her about the fact he’d caught her cheating on him. That was absolutely excellent. Eli rubbed his forehead, sighing.

  “Would you like to see her?” asked the doctor.

  Not really. I wish I’d never seen her. I wish I’d never stopped the car for her, never let her kiss me on that cliff, never pursued her. “Yes.”

  The doctor let him into Cathy’s room.

  She smiled when she saw him. “Eli, you’re here.”

  He went to her bedside, staring down at her pretty face.

  She reached out for his hand. Her other hand rested on her belly.

  Where his child was growing. His child.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “About Heath. You should know that what you saw was a… goodbye, and—”

  “Doctor says it’s best to avoid subjects that might upset you, Cathy.” He was trying to stay angry with her, but there was something about this woman that made it next to impossible. She was his wild slip of a girl, ready for anything, so alive it hurt. He stroked her cheek.

  “But I don’t deserve you. I never have. I’ve been horrible to you. Always.”

  “You’ve been amazing,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “Try not to overexert yourself, okay? For the baby’s sake.” She was right, he thought bitterly. He’d forgive her anything.

  2013

  Linton burst into Thera’s room, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Heath’s gone out for the evening, and I have all the keys to this room.” He held them out to her. “We won’t be disturbed this time, cousin.”

  Thera bounded off the bed. He hadn’t tied her down this time, and she wasn’t about to let him do anything to her without a fight. “Stay back, Linton. I’ll hurt you if you come near me.”

  He giggled. “Don’t be silly. I’ll hurt you when I come near you. That’s why I’m here. I want you to scream at me, begging me to stop.” His eyes had lit up at the thought of it.

  Thera was disgusted. “Why are you so sick?”

  “Father says it’s because no one ever loved me,” said Linton. “But I don’t care about love. Love makes people weak. It’s easier never to care about anyone else.”

  Thera collided with the wall of the room. “What if I loved you?”

  “It would be too late,” said Linton. “Besides, you don’t love me. I could make
you say it, though. If I wanted. I could make you do anything I wanted you to do.” He pulled a pocket knife out and slid up the blade.

  It glinted dully in the scant light of the room.

  “Gage!” she screamed. “Help!”

  Linton laughed. “Oh, I told you, there are no keys out there. He can’t get in to save you.”

  Thera looked around for a weapon, something she could use to slow Linton down, even stop him.

  The room was sparse. Nothing on the walls, no furniture except her bed, the bedside table, and the lamp.

  There were books—paperbacks that Heath had given her to assuage her boredom, but they were hardly heavy enough.

  Linton lunged for her.

  She dove out of the way. “Gage!”

  He grabbed her ankle, tugging her towards him.

  She kicked him with her free foot.

  He squealed in pain and rage.

  She scrabbled to her feet, reaching for the only thing that could possibly be a weapon in the room. The lamp.

  Linton snarled, coming for her.

  She smashed the lamp over his head.

  The room was bathed in darkness.

  Linton didn’t make a sound.

  Had she knocked him out?

  She didn’t want to say anything for fear of letting him know where she was in the room.

  She didn’t move.

  She didn’t breathe.

  She waited.

  She could hear sounds from outside now, the insects of early summer singing songs to each other in the night. The breeze whistling against the farmhouse.

  The floorboards creaked under footsteps.

  Linton?

  The doorknob rattled. “Thera?”

  It was Gage, outside of the room. Did she dare to answer him?

  She was afraid to even let out the breath she was holding. She peered into the darkness, waiting.

  The outline of windows above her began to grow clearer. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark.

  “There you are,” whispered Linton’s voice.

  Apparently, his eyes had adjusted too.

  She screamed.

  The door rattled. “Thera!” Gage yelled.

  Linton’s fingers crawled over her torso like spiders. He moved over her, propping himself up, so that his face was close to hers.