Pure Illusion (9 page)

Something to Live For

The
dark mint green walls and black curtains let me know I’m in Falcon’s bedroom. I
blink the sleep from my eyes, toss the thick puffy comforter off and slide up
the bed, resting my back on the wooden headboard. A pale pink silk gown skates
up my legs. Vic. Victor Martinez has everything to do with this girly thing
that clings to me. I notice Tyler’s teddy lies on the pillow next to me. My
heart clenches tight in my chest. Hunter remembered that this little nameless worn
brown bear is essential to me.

Bringing
my hands up to my face and resting my sticky forehead in my palms, I try to
recall what happened and why I’m in Falcon’s bedroom. I remember Hunter. He was
shaking me and yelling at me. He was furious. He thought I slept with Max. Max?
Max. And then all the memories of the night at Mayhem come to me in a clear
collage of many things: getting bit by an asshole. Dancing and trying to catch
the sparkling confetti. The asshole was laughing. He was groping me. I bit him.
He yelled at me and stormed off. Max. Max wanted to take me home. I didn’t want
to go home. We went to his house, and I dance and drank hot coco. And then
I…felt him up. Oh, God. He said no, and I fondled him anyway. I watched him
shower. We talked about Tyler. I sang to him. I sang my mother’s lullaby. I
wanted to count his freckles, but Hunter stopped me. He took me back to his
house. He…he spanked me. And then he put his mouth on me. It was phenomenal. He
bit me afterwards.

My
hand absently touches the healing faint red bite mark in the inside of my
thigh. Heat rushes to my face and my chest swells with a strange warmth and
pride. “That fucker,” I mumble under my breath. Though I’m angry, I’m aroused
too, which is so fucked up and confusing to me.

Hunter,
you’re making it difficult to be numb and feel nothing.

My
eyes dart to a black duffle bag in a tall cream-colored cushioned chair. My
brother’s laptop is tucked beside the bag. Tiptoeing, I lift myself from the
bed and snatch up the laptop, sitting back in the middle of the bed.

His
laptop is decorated in numerous skulls, music notes, little heart stickers,
among various things. Some of them are scribbled on and scratched up. I run my
fingers over the stickers and sigh, then open up the lid and power it up. I
type in his password:
Hero 1996.
My brother and I think alike. His
password is his first love, his only love, and the year Tyler was born.

A
black and white picture if Albert Einstein is his background and it floods my
vision as I watch the tiny icons load. I’m looking for something, something
that Tyler must have left. We made a blood oath after mom took her life. We
promised we’d never do the same and leave one another stranded and alone. We
took that oath very seriously, so there has to be more than my brother being
depressed and leaping off The Sluiced Bridge. I’m sure from the outside looking
in people thought Tyler was just a nervous-emo-weirdo-loner bomb waiting to
explode. But they didn’t know the Tyler I knew. They never got to see the
remarkable beauty that was him.

A
ding and small black window opens in the middle of the screen. I glance at the
words at the bottom of the small box that says:
GreenFrog is typing
…

Tyler’s
username is PureIllusion. It’s a children’s book my father used to read us when
we were little.

GreenFrog:
Hey
sweet Isabel.

PureIllusion:
Who
is this??

GreenFrog:
Does
it really matter? Listen, I’ve waited so long to freaking talk to you. I have some
good news for you.

PureIllusion:
Is
this a joke? I’m not up for this BS!!!! Leave me the hell
ALONE
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shaking
my head, I click on the small X and exit the chat room, but the little black
window pops back up.

GreenFrog:
No.
This is definitely not a joke or prank of any kind. And that was
extremely
rude of you, Miss Isabel. For future reference, don’t close the window. It’s
useless when I can just make it open back up. I’m only her to help. I will not
harass you or anything like that. Anyway, this is some heavy shit I’m about to
unload on you and you have no absolute reason to believe me. The only thing I
have is my word, which might not mean much to you, but I’m hoping you just keep
an open mind.   

PureIllusion:
Okay…What’s
this news about?

An
endless minute passes before I see the green words flash on the screen.

GreenFrog:
Tyler
didn’t jump off The Suicide Bridge. He was murdered. Someone pushed him off.

My
eyes squint as I read the three sentences over and over again.
Tyler didn’t
jump of The Suicide Bridge. He was murdered. Someone pushed him.
I’m
tempted to exit out the chat room again, but I don’t because hope I can’t
afford to lose blooms in my chest. If Tyler didn’t kill himself then someone
did and he didn’t renege on his promise. Retrieving the teddy from the pillow,
I nuzzle my nose into the soft fur and cotton, overwhelmed with the scent of
Hunter. It smells just like him as if he washed it in his pleasant fragrance.

Inhaling
deeply, I begin typing.

PureIllusion:
Who
did then?

GreenFrog:
I’m not a
hundred percent sure. I have a few suspects in mind, though. I’ve been secretly
working this case shortly after Tyler passed. He didn’t leave many clues, but
the ones he left are substantial enough to gather information from. I’ll keep
you posted when I learn more. In the meantime, do not trust anyone, especially
the ones you think you can. Tell no one of me, or else you’ll ruin everything.

Before
I can type something, the words
GreenFrog has logged off
appears at the
bottom of the blank window.

After
an half hour goes by, I come up with nothing.
Zero.
Tyler’s emails are all cleared and deleted. His pictures are gone too. It’s
like everything has been wiped clean and erased for good. Running a frustrated
hand through my hair, I turn off the laptop and close it. I close my eyes and
take a deep breath in through my nose and releasing it out my mouth and into
the teddy. A spark of life takes root inside me and it’s growing…

Muffled
thuds and erotic sounds are echoing down the hall. Careful to not to make any
noise, I hop out of bed and place the laptop and Tyler’s bear in the chair with
my duffle bag. Inching to the door, I place my hand on the latch and slowly
pull it downward. The grunts get louder and whiner. Intrigued, I follow the
soft noises to the guest bedroom that’s only two doors away. The wooden door is
ajar as I approach it.

“…you’ve
been a bad boy, little lamb.”

Pressing
my face into the slit of golden glow, my eyes expand and my mouth drops open at
the sight before me. Falcon’s hand is fisted tight into Vic’s dark hair while
Vic is pushed harshly against the wall by Falcon’s powerful frame. Falcon is
fully dressed in dark jeans and an olive-colored cashmere sweater, but Victor
is shirtless, his grey pants are pooled around his ankles, and his tanned legs
are splayed apart. Victor appears so helpless. His body looks very small and
vulnerable against Falcon’s broad, muscled one.

“I’m
sorry.” Victor’s voice is airy and breathless.

Falcon
roughly jerks Vic’s head in response. “Not good enough. You’re going to have to
do way better than that. Or else, I might not let you come at all.” Falcon
gives Vic another shove. Victor’s face is smashed against the wall. I can hear
the air whistling from his lungs from the impact as Vic starts to wheeze.

“Please.”
Victor attempts to bring his legs together but Falcon wedges a heavy black boot
between them, forcefully preventing it.

He
growls, yanking Vic’s hair, Vic groans and winces. “What did I say,
slut
?
You’re going have to do better. Make me believe you.”

“Baby,
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She disappeared from my view. I didn’t…I
couldn’t
find her. Honey, believe me. I called her phone and looked everywhere in the
fucking club, searching high and low, coming up with nothing. I didn’t mean to
fuck up, but I did. I did, and I’m sorry.”

At
this point, I realize my chest is heaving like the both of theirs and something
inside my stomach tightens. Liquid, scorching desire surges through my veins,
gathering between my thighs. Falcon is punishing Vic because of me.

Falcon
presses his lips to Vic’s ear, grabbing a fistful of dark hair. Falcon tugs
Vic’s head backward, exposing his throat. “I don’t think you’re getting the
gist
of what I’m saying. I should teach you a lesson, huh?”

Victor
whimpers and tries to shift away, but Falcon violently holds him in place,
covering almost every inch of Vic’s shivering body with immense strength of his
own. There is nothing gentle or tender about this. It’s pure masculine
domination. Falcon never manhandled me like that. I never witnessed male on
male action before and, oddly, this is extremely hot. I’m turned-on; the
wetness seeping from my panties is evidence.

Falcon
whispers something into Vic’s ear and his free hand reaches down, gripping and
fondling Vic between his legs and making Vic’s eyes roll to the back of his
head and his knees buckle.

My
heart beats erratically as my hands lift the lace-trimmed hem of my gown up.
The cool silk glides up my heated thighs. My fingers fumble upwards until I
touch the damp, achy spot inside my panties.

Victor
grunts lowly, thrusting his ass in the air. “Honey, please.”

“You
want it,
then
you’re going to have to work for it. Beg
me.” Falcon is still caressing him.

Somewhere
between touching myself and watching Falcon touch Vic, my conscience kicks in,
and I feel like an awful person for spying on them. I’d be fine if I wasn’t
such a pervert.

Removing
my hand, I slowly back away from the door with shaky legs and dash back inside
Falcon’s bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me, my chest rising and
falling fast.

On
the black nightstand, I notice my cell. Picking it up, I send Hunter a
text: 

Me:
I
need you. NOW!

Hunter:
Be
over in ten.

Make Up to Break Up

I
texted Hunter and told him to come in through Falcon’s bedroom window. He
tapped on the glass six minutes later. I pushed the curtains wide open and
unlock the latches on the window, quietly lifting it up. From what I remember,
I
know
Falcon is seriously pissed. He doesn’t need to find me and Hunter
in his bedroom on top of that. The frosty night air blows in as Hunter throws a
leg over the ledge and climbs in. The windows to Falcon’s house are low to the
ground and as accessible as a door.

Once
he’s fully inside, I shut the window and draw the curtains. When I whirl
around, Hunter is an inch away from my face. He wears his usual attire: a black
hoodie, dark denim jeans, and navy blue Van sneakers. He raises his arms,
placing his hands on either side of my face, looking intently into my eyes.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No.”
I peer into his sapphire eyes and lose my breath.

His
brows frown as his forehead creases in confusion. “What’s the matter then?”

“I
remember
everything
. I didn’t sleep with Max. He just took me to his
place because I didn’t want to go home. The asshole who gave me the pills bit me,
not Max. Max didn’t even touch me.”

His
head jerks back and his eyes narrow, a perplexed expression contorting his
features. His hands drop to his sides and he takes a step back. “I don’t
understand. Why are you telling me this after what I did to you?”

I
immediately correct the distance between us. “You were angry. It’s
understandable. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He
takes another step backwards, raking a hand through disheveled golden locks.
“No, it’s not okay. God, Isabel, I’m positive I gave you a concussion. I’m
fucked in the head. Can’t you see me for who I am?”

I
step closer until our chests touch. Tentatively reaching up, my fingers smooth
the wrinkles between his brows. A face like his shouldn’t be twisted with pain
and worry. “I do see you for who you are. You’re a hero. You saved my life.
Thank you.”

His
long fingers fully circle my wrist, bringing my hand down from his face. “Just
to put it back in jeopardy. We can’t do this. It’s wron—”

Standing
my tiptoes, I crush my mouth on his, causing our teeth to clash. We’re both
stunned for a moment. Our lips rest against one another, our breathing heavy
and rapid as we inhale each other’s air. He’s still holding my wrist in his
hand. I motion for him to let it go. He does and my hand slips into his. I interlock
our fingers, kissing corner of his mouth and then the other. He shuts his eyes
and groans, trying to step back, but I simply move forward, squeezing his hand
tighter.

“I
forgive you, Hunter. What we’re doing isn’t wrong at all. It isn’t wrong
because
I
say it isn’t and that’s the only thing that should matter,
right?”

He
just continues to stare all wide-eyed and bewildered, as still as a stone. His
hand loosens around mine. Untangling my fingers from his, I drag his sweatshirt
and his white T-shirt over his head, yanking it off his limp arms.

The
sharp intake of breath is unretractable with good reason as I gawk at his bare,
sculpted, sun-kissed chest. Every muscle in his core is beyond cut and also
defined. My mouth goes dry. I don’t think I ever saw him this close without a
shirt, at least not as an adult. Apprehensively, my palms explore the front
wall of his exposed beauty. His skin is taut and baby-smooth. The scent of
outdoorsy rain, spicy cinnamon mint, Hunter’s own masculine fragrance penetrates
my nostrils, making my head heady. 

Hunter
inhales a shallow breath, pupils dilating.

My
heart rate soars as I stare into darkening cerulean blue eyes. Pausing, I
nervously, run my tongue across my chapped bottom lip, biting on the side of
it.

His
eyes follow the route of my tongue, and he licks his own, as if the
anticipation and hunger is barely contained. He dips his head towards me.
Hunter attentively presses wet kisses on my right shoulder and along the side
of my neck, tracing the length of my jaw with his delicious tongue.

A
mixture between a grunt and moan slides out my throat, surprising my own ears.
I don’t sound like myself, I sound so whiny and desperately in need of
something. His hands cradle my face and he gives me the sweetest kiss on the lips.
It’s full of warmth and passion that my legs give way from under me, and I
collapse into him.

My
lungs burn for more oxygen, I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my
lungs begin to ache for fresh air. It’s like my world is spinning.

Hunter’s
arms curl around my waist and he holds me firmly against him. He tucks my head
under his chin. His enormous erection prods my stomach through the fabric of
his jeans.

I
suck down as much air my lungs can hold. Our irregular heartbeats pound
fiercely against one another as our breaths even.

He
gives me a tight squeeze, pressing me into his hard-on. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Hunter’s hoarse voice is controlled and restrained.

My
fingers draw invisible patterns on his sides; he shudders and squeezes me
tighter. “Stay,” I whisper.

“I
don’t think I should, Isabel.”

“Please?
I promise to behave. I just need you to stay for a little while. Please?” I’ve
been reduced to begging, but I don’t care. When it comes to Hunter, I’ll beg
and plead until I couldn’t rasp another word.

“Isabel—”

“Please,
Hunter?” My fingers dig into his flesh.
“Pretty please?”

His mouth quirks up on the sides, just a
tiny smile that sends a jolt of electricity through me.
“Okay, but only
until you fall back off to sleep.” He releases me and takes a step back. He
stares at me for a long moment, eyes running down the length of my body and
back again. I sway on the balls of my feet from his intense once-over. My face
heats, cheeks flood with blush.

He
takes my hand and we move to the bed. “Nice nightie.
It’s
kinda old school, but I like it.”

“Ha
ha,” I say sarcastically. “I probably look like Mrs. Franklin. All I need is
the pink sponge hair rollers, the hot pink robe decorated with white kittens,
and bright fuzzy slippers that don’t match at all.”

His
body shakes with silent laughter as he pulls the covers back and we climb in.
“You’re wrong,” he replies as he lies next to me.

I
snuggle closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. “About?”

“About
looking like Mrs. Franklin.”

Tipping
my head back, I glance at him, confused.

“You
see, Mrs. Franklin is hawt. She’s
the shit
, and she’s at least three
hundred percent better lookin’ than you.”

My
brows draw together and I pout, pretending to be wounded by his hilarious
comment. “Ouch. I didn’t know you’re such a cub?”

“Cub?”

“Yeah, a cub.
You’re into the
cougars, but in Mrs. Franklin’s case, she’s an ancient dinosaur.”

I’m
graced with a cheery smile with many glossy white teeth.
“Hater
much?”

“Pee-yew.”
I dramatically
close my eyes and scrunch up my nose as if I’m smell something offensive. “Do I
smell Similac on your breath?”  

He
tosses his head back and release a deep throaty laugh.

My
hand quickly flies to his mouth to cover it. “Shut that beautiful mouth of
yours before you get me in trouble.”

He
playfully wiggles his brows, nipping at my palm.

I
gasp, pulling my hand away. “You’re going to stop biting me one day.”

“Today
is not that day, my sweet.”

I
poke my tongue out and roll my eyes like petulant four-year-old child.

It
feels good to joke with Hunter this way. When we were younger we used to tease
each other all the time. And Hunter was the best to be carefree and goofy with.
He had the
best
comebacks. We haven’t been together like this in so
long.

His
smile broadens and chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re still a hater, though.
Mrs. Franklin
is
the shit
, and I bet her pussy is way sweeter
than yours.”

Reaching
up, I squeeze his right nipple with all the strength I can muster. “Mrs.
Franklin
smells
like shit. I’m sure her bowels are shot to shit, pun
intended.”

His
body starts to shake with uncontrollable laughter.

“Shut
up before I gag you with something.” But I’m laughing, too. My fingers still
latch on to his nipple without mercy.

Something
dark and sinister lurks behind those gorgeous eyes that stare back at me. “Like
what?”

“I
don’t know, maybe my hand again.”

“Oh,
I’m thinking your panties will work much better.”

The
air leaves my lungs in a shaky whimper that I release across his face.

He
narrows his eyes, sinking his teeth into his supple bottom lip.

“I-I
think,” I stutter and swallow hard, “I think I love you, Hunter Knight.”

His
eyes widen and his browns lift in shock. An intense emotion contorts his face.
He looks upset about what I just said. It’s uncanny how ill I physically feel
now. I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi-truck, sat on fire, and stomped on by
million people all at once.

Feeling
like a wounded animal, I scoot away, over to my side of the bed. I need some kind
of distance. His scent alone is suffocating me.

Hunter
sighs, reaches out and wraps a big, demanding hand around my arm, pulling back
into his embrace, tucking my head under his chin.

I
throw my arms around his sides, pressing my cheek flat against his left pec and
breathing in his unique masculine scent. His strong heart thuds audibly against
my heated cheek. And for a moment, we just hold each other in comfortable
silence. 

Hunter
buries his nose and mouth in my hair, inhaling deeply. “Maybe in some other
universe, some other time, some other world, you could be mine and I could be
yours. We’d become best friends again. Then we’d date; I’d learn how to love
you in all the right ways you deserve. We’d travel the world. I’d ask you to
marry me in some ridiculously romantic way and we’d have babies, as many as you
want. They’d look like you, of course. We’d raise them to be good and wholesome
people. We’d watch them grow up and get married and have babies of their own
and spoil our grandkids to the limit as they got older.
Then,
and only then, when you’re old and gray by my side, I could die a fulfilled and
sated man.
That would be the story of our life, but it’ll never happen.
It’ll never happen because
we
can never happen.”