The Light of the World (The Light Series Book 1) Page 7

  I have had enough. I shout at him. “SCREW YOU! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! Go screw yourself or ONE of those whores you're ALWAYS with!”

  He takes one of his massive steps. “I am trying to help you, Jon. Run. Get away from her. She is dangerous and damaged goods.” His words kill me inside, building rage. It makes my stomachache come back.

  “Go home.” He points to their house.

  Jon sways and tries to shove him. “Leave her alone. You're the damaged goods, dude.”

  Wyatt pushes him and sends him sprawling on the grass. I try to run to Jon, but Wyatt grabs my arm and swings me. I fly out of his grip and land on my butt on the grass. He grabs for me but I pull away.

  “ENOUGH!” I cover my eyes for a split second. “I am done with you touching me or mauling me. This is nuts. I'm calling the cops. I know it was you. You beat up Sam.”

  His eyes are dark. His jaw is set. His face is contorting into something. It scares the crap out of me. I reach into my bag and fish for my phone. It's in my dorm. I left it on the bedside table. I remember the call to Willow earlier and crying over this asshole. I'm stunned at the lengths I will go to make myself suffer. His mouth still makes me want to kiss it. His hands that look ready to strangle me remind me of the feel of him against my bare skin. I get a waft of him in the air. He smells like Axe cologne, but also the musk that he naturally smells of. My mouth waters.

  He looks at Jon and points. “Go.” Jon stands and stumbles off into the night.

  My vision clears and I can see everything. I can see his eyes grow soft and concerned.

  “You're screwing with me. You don’t want to be with me. You only want to hurt me and make sure no one else wants me.” I'm angry, sobbing in the grass.

  “You don’t know, do you?” He takes a step toward me again. He's out of control. One minute he's raging and now he's talking to me gently.

  I stand and take a step away from him. “Screw you.” I walk past him. When he reaches for me, I run.

  I run until my stomach twists and I gag. I dry heave and clutch myself.

  He's laughing behind me.

  I try to walk fast while doubling over in pain.

  His arms scoop me up and he plugs my nose. “Stop smelling me. Don’t breathe me in.”

  I swat his hand away and plug my own nose. I hate to admit that it helps. I turn my face away from him and drink in the cool night air. “Screw you.”

  He looks at me and smiles his boyish smile. “Rayne, you're going to be the death of me.”

  My hand drops and I take in a huge breath through my nose. I am instantly nauseated. I lean away from him and retch. He holds me out. I throw up all over the grass.

  “You have to stop puking on me,” he mutters.

  I cough and gag, trying to stop.

  Chapter Seven

  I feel like death. “I think someone drugged me,” I whisper into the darkness.

  He looks worried. He's sitting in the chair across the room. The chair the man was sitting in when I slept here last time.

  “Where does she live?” he asks, like I know the answer.

  I rub my eyes and frown. “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  I lick my lips and swallow. “Plattsburgh.” I have to call her after I call the police—as soon as I get away from him.

  “Get up and shower.” His face is stoic. I have no idea what's going on. I need to get away from him.

  “Are you bipolar?” I ask and wipe my mouth.

  He starts laughing.

  I climb out of the bed and stumble into his bathroom. The room is messy. The bathroom looks like a tornado has whirled through it. Nothing is where it was the last time. There is regular shampoo and soap on the floor of the shower. No bodywash. I lather the soap until it's half its size and then scrub myself.

  When I step out of the shower he's holding the towel out for me. I'm naked and dripping water. I hold the curtain over my body to hide my nakedness. “Get out.” I'm terrified deep down, but something on the surface likes him. It wants to trust him.

  He shakes his head and walks toward me with his arms out. He wraps the towel around me and hugs me. He's being sweet and gentle again.

  He sounds crazy. “I don’t know how to be with you. Not without killing you.”

  My arm hair stands on end and my lower lip trembles. “Are you going to kill me?” My stomach drops into my bowels.

  He kisses my hands and shakes his head. “I'm going to find a way. I'm going to fix this.”

  His face is devastating me, just as it's confusing me. “Like taking meds?”

  He laughs bitterly. “If only it were that simple.” He points at the counter where he has jogging pants and a t-shirt folded for me. “I brought you those.”

  He leaves me alone. I look at myself in the mirror. My hair looks almost black against my ghastly white skin. My tan is gone. I sleep too much.

  My gray eyes glow in the light. They're the only things about me that aren't weak and sick looking.

  I look deep into my eyes and realize how cruel I need to be with myself. I need the cold hard truth.

  I look into my gray eyes and whisper, “We can never be together. He's insane. It's not just regular crazy-boyfriend stuff. This is full-fledged, four-alarm bad.”

  It's breaking my heart, but he's crap-house-rat crazy.

  He's probably poisoning me to keep me with him, weak and sickly. It's probably why I've been sleeping so much. I saw a special on 60 Minutes once where parents did that.

  I dress quickly. I need a plan.

  His bathroom has nothing I can use to hit him with and make a run for it. The idea of smashing him in the head makes me feel ill again, but I need to get away. My phone isn’t here. I stand at the bathroom door plotting nervously, but he opens it and takes my hand. He drags me from the room. My stomach is worse instantly. His touches and kisses make sparks.

  “I think I have stomach cancer or something.”

  He ignores me. The pain becomes too intense. My legs buckle, and he picks me up. I gag and he starts to run. His running doesn't make my stomach feel better.

  He places me down when we get outside and walks away from me. I bend and heave into the garden next to his house. There is nothing in my stomach. It's burning from emptiness.

  “I need a doctor. Please, please let me go to the hospital.” I cough.

  He is pacing beside me. He looks stressed. He's going to kill me now. I can see it in his eyes. He grabs my hand and pulls me along the greens. Anger builds inside of me.

  “Stop pulling me. I'm sick. I need a doctor.” I jerk my hand and he lets me go. He turns abruptly and runs to a guy walking on the greens, smashing him in the face.

  I scream and fall to my knees as Wyatt drags the guy to me and places him on the ground in front of me.

  “GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY! YOU'RE FRIGGEN CRAZY! LEAVE ME ALONE!” I swat at him, but he grabs my hands and puts them on the bare forearm of the unconscious guy. Wyatt's stronger than I am. I am trying to scream, but I can't. My throat is hoarse from all the throwing up.

  Wyatt backs away and watches me. I can smell the cologne on the guy and something else. Something musty. I stop fighting it. I feel the injured man and let my senses take over. Something shifts inside of me. I hear a growling noise and realize it's coming from me.

  I sniff the air around the guy's face and breathe it in, creating a pull in my lungs. Like they are screaming for the air I'm breathing coming off the guy. My fingers shake and dig in, and I don’t know what's happening to me. I don’t know where I am. I just know my fingers are kneading him like a cat. My fingers are squeezing and twitching into the warmth of his flesh. I bend my face over his and inhale, like it's the first time breathing after being underwater my whole life. My lungs expand and the air that hits them is sweet. I growl on the exhale and suck in again. My fingers are warm and sticky, but I can't stop them from gripping him. I inhale a third time and my body convulses. I twitch and moan
, and it feels like I've been intimate with someone, on the grass.

  Gross.

  I shiver and open my eyes. The world is different. There is more color and the wind tickles me with whispers and promises. A power comes off of me. It's intense and amazing. I can hear the dead instantly. No matter how hard I try to not hear them, they are everywhere. The air sparkles with them.

  My eyes dart to where Wyatt stands, and I see something different about him. I see the thing I saw the night I was scared of him. The magic in my tummy becomes anger. His face looks more pronounced. His eyes are striking. They can see through me. They can see every thought I've ever had. I'm sure of it.

  “What?” I snap at him.

  He shakes his head and sighs. “Rayne, we need to go now.”

  I look down at the man in front of me on the grass. He's pale and his eyes are closed.

  Wyatt looks around and grabs my hand. His skin burns mine, like a shock has jolted between us. I scream out but he drags me across the greens. We run until we reach his car. My skin is smoking where he touches me. He drops my hand. I hold it up and cry.

  “What have you done to me?” I whisper.

  He opens the door and shoves me inside.

  He gets in and starts the car. He drives the way I imagined he would. He's fast and out of control, but in a way that seems like he's in control. I would bet his skills are unmatched, by even race car drivers.

  “What are you?” I ask.

  He ignores me and points. “Sit as far away from me as you can. Don’t get too close. I'm making you sick. Press against the window.”

  I lean against the cold window and put my hand on it. The burn is feeling better, but it still hurts.

  “What are you?” I ask again.

  He looks at me as we race along the winding road. “The better question is what are you, Rayne? What has she told you?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He sneers. “Your mother. She keeps it at bay with a macrobiotic diet and intense yoga, but she can't keep it at bay all the time. She must do nightclubs for the mini sucks. Let me guess, she never has sex? Never dates?”

  I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want him to tell me things about her. “You know nothing about her or me.”

  He looks at me and his eyes burn a hole in me. “I know you. I know all about you.” For the first time I'm able to fear him properly. My lust for him has intensified, but I can feel the fake pull he's giving off. He's making me attracted to him. He's making me want him. I'm not crazy. It's not real love.

  After a while I ask, “Where are we going?”

  He answers sharply. “Home.”

  “Where's home?”

  He gives me a blank stare. “Your house.”

  I scowl. “You can't meet Willow. She's going to hate you.”

  He grins his cocky smile, and it makes my skin crawl. “Your kind always hate me.”

  I shake my head. “My kind? You're a dick. Why do you need to see my mom, Wyatt? You heard how hot she is, didn’t you? Look, she's not like that.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to force myself on cougars, Rayne. Jesus. Thanks, though. You're always so full of nice things and compliments.”

  “Why do you want to go to my house?” I ask through my teeth.

  He sighs. “We need to find out what you are and why you make me . . . uncomfortable.”

  I laugh bitterly and cry a little bit. “I make you uncomfortable. You burned me and made me hurt that man. Trust me, you make me far more uncomfortable.”

  He glances at me as he takes a sharp corner. “I doubt that.”

  I mock him. “Why did you beat me? Do you like hitting girls?”

  His eyes look dead, and his lips fight the emotions he refuses for me to see. “I needed to see. Violence makes the change pronounce itself. When I hit you, the rage filled you and you couldn’t hide it from me.”

  Fear crosses my face, because he is insane. I back away, closer to the door. “What do you think I'm hiding from you? I never changed. I'm the same. You're the one who’s gotten crazier and crazier.”

  He clenches his jaw and says nothing. Maybe nothing is better at this point. He's friggen nuts. I'm not sure what that makes me. I need a plan.

  I lean back against the window and watch the road. He's driving me home. He's going to kill me or Willow or both of us. He's unstable, and my cell phone is still at school. I can see it on my bedside table. The panic starts to increase with every mile we get closer to home. I'm getting antsy.

  I'm not hungry the same way I was before. I think about the man. I don’t know what to think. It doesn’t make sense in my rational brain.

  “What did I do to him? The man.” Tears stream down my cheeks. Everything feels messy. I look down at the dried blood on my fingers and feel dirty.

  He sighs. I think he's annoyed with my question. He runs his hands through his dark hair. “You sucked him dry. I think you're a succubus. But you seem different. You might only be half. I've never seen eyes glow like that on a succubus. Like the light is coming from inside. Witches’ eyes glow and angels’. But you would know if you were either of those things. Your eyes really glow.”

  I scoff. “You should have seen the waitress's.”

  He looks sharply. “What waitress? That’s why you ran? Damn, I thought she told you about how she kept trying to sleep with me last year.”

  I make a face. “Gross. No. She was nice; she just knew my dreams, and her eyes were like fire.”

  “Fire witch. Damn. How . . .?” He clenches his jaw again.

  My questions and confusion are overwhelming.

  The rest of the short drive is silent.

  I don’t want any more answers.

  The welcome sign to Plattsburgh is not a welcome sight. I feel dread so thick in my belly, it feels like I might explode. I wonder what my chances are of getting away from him. My brain is formulating plans, but they all suck.

  “Where is it?” he asks.

  I stare straight ahead.

  He shakes his head. “Rayne, I can find her on my own. I can smell her out. She has left a trail all over the town. I guarantee it.”

  I point flippantly. “You can smell vegan yoga instructors? Fine, go ahead. Sniff her out.”

  He grabs my hand and fire burns into me again. “Where?”

  I jerk my hand from him. “Promise you won't hurt her? Please just take me wherever you want to take me, and I promise I'll do whatever you want me to.”

  He looks disgusted. “Rayne.” He grabs my shoulders and burns me through my shirt. “I am not going to hurt you. She has some questions to answer though. She owes you answers.” His eyes burn.

  He's crazed.

  My voice cracks from the pain and trauma. “Promise you won't hurt her.”

  “No. Where is it?” His voice is filled with regret and emotion.

  I press my lips into each other. Screw him. “Screw you.”

  My eyes burn and tears flow down my cheeks in steady streams.

  He revs the engine and makes a hard turn. He sticks his face out the window and drives. He makes another sharp hard turn. It throws me against him. I lean into him and wince from the contact.

  He drives for half an hour and then pulls up in front of our house.

  I am stumped.

  He climbs out of the car and walks up to our small house.

  I don’t get out. I'm shaking. The blood on my fingers is the tip of the iceberg of crap that's wrong. I can't let her see me like this. Maybe she won't answer the door.

  He looks back at me and climbs the front steps. He bangs on the door with intensity.

  The door doesn’t open. I look up and see Willow in the window on the second story. She sees me in the car. She is staring at me with terror across her face. Her strawberry-blonde hair is pulled up in a bun. I can see her pulling out the knitting needle she has in there, holding it up. She wants me to see it. She bites her lip and puts a hand against the windowpane.
I cry and look up at her. I'm ashamed my love of some freak is about to escalate.

  I look at him banging on the door. He looks savage. He left the keys in the car. I press the door lock.

  He glances at me and steps back from the door. She watches me from the window. He kicks the door open and walks into my house.

  Her eyes never leave mine. I motion for her to run. I'm a coward. I should have gone in with him. I should be protecting her right now.

  Why isn’t she calling the police?

  After a few tense minutes I see him walking around behind her. He's feeling with his hands. He is calling. He doesn’t see her. I don’t know how, but he doesn’t. She takes a step to the side. He comes to the window and looks down on me. She's in the window, right beside him. Her face turns psychotic and she raises the knitting needle. She drives it down on his throat. Her mouth opens just as mine does. We scream at the exact same moment, for completely different reasons. Crimson blood sprays across my bedroom window.

  Panic, pain, and confusion are superseded by shock. I fumble with the door handle. The lock I clicked.

  Panicking and sobbing, I push the lock and leap from the car. Her hand is still coming down on him. Slicing in the air. He's trying to fight her.

  My legs push hard. I scream as I enter the house, “MOM, NOOOOOO!”

  I run up the stairs inside, skipping stairs. I can't breathe. I can't get the air. Tears and sobs are blocking my airways. I burst into my room, which is now covered in blood spray. I slide along the floor to him. He clutches his throat wide-eyed. She licks the needle and glares at me.

  “A friggen Van Helsing, Nene? Really?” she growls at me.

  Her eyes are bright green. I've never seen them look so alive. She growls at him and slides the needle into his throat again.

  I push her aside and hold his bleeding throat. My fingers press into the wounds. He gasps for air, but sounds like he is drowning. My tears are mixing with his blood. His skin is burning mine.

  I'm holding him and rocking, and she is watching me. He growls and her eyes widen in fear.

  Chapter Eight

  He watches me from the corner of the room. His needle marks are filling in. My burns on my hands are healing. Willow is pacing like a savage.