He’s swimming toward me, closing in, and I retreat until my shoulder blades hit the lip of the pool.

“Your fate is in my hands,” he says.

“I accept that,” I say. His surprised expression is so rare that I almost lose my train of thought. “What I can’t accept is not knowing my fate. If you’ll just tell me if I’ll live or die, tell me what I’m doing here, what my purpose is, and if it’s . . . forever, I promise—I will be better.”

“You ask for a lot.” He steps within inches of me so our faces almost touch.

“Tell me that, and I won’t ask for anything else.”

He raises his hand to run his thumb over my cheekbone. The room is silent save for the acute splash echo of pool water. His fingers slide down my face and under my hair, where they wrap around the nape my neck. “You look sexy when you’re wet, Cataline.”

My eyelids threaten to close, but I force myself to hold his gaze.

He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You’d make a beautiful mermaid,” he whispers. “But, then, how would I fuck you?”

Colt wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “No. I’d rather bother you.”

There was something kind of sexy about the motion, something more confident than his usual goofy flirting. His hand felt nice resting on my hip, so I let it stay. Was this really the same Colt? Since when did his touch have that kind of effect on me? “When did you get back to town?”

“About two hours ago.”

“You didn’t wait long to come out.” I took a big sip of the drink. It was starting to taste a lot better.

“I took time for a shower.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“Planning on getting close to me tonight?” He watched me intently.

“Maybe.” The flirtatious word flew out of my mouth without me realizing it. The alcohol and that smile of his was making me forget where I was. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He moved his hand, turning me and wrapping his other arm around me so my body was pressed against his.

“Colton…”

“Mallory…”

I laughed. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? You’re the one telling me you might be getting close to me tonight.” His hand slid down slightly, settling below my hip. His touch felt so good.

“Your birthday passed, right? You’re nineteen now?”

He laughed that deep, throaty laugh of his. “I’m going to take it as a good sign that you’re checking to make sure I’m old enough.”

“I’m not supposed to be into younger guys.”

“I’m three months younger than you. I can’t help that my parents held me back a grade.” He leaned back against an old oak tree, pulling me along with him. The motion had me leaning into his chest.

“You’ve gotten hotter.” I couldn’t believe I’d said the words out loud. I also couldn’t believe I was thinking about Colton that way again.

He laughed once more. “So have you, although I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”

I took another sip of my drink. “When did you get this cute?”

“Are you implying you haven’t been ready to jump me for the last five years?”

“I’ve never thought about it before tonight.” The words weren’t exactly true, but I hadn’t thought about it in a while.

“But you are thinking about it now?” He grinned, moving his hands even lower so they cradled my ass.

“Maybe.” His hands sent a thrill through me, reminding me of just how long it had been since a guy had touched me that way.

“That’s the second maybe you’ve given me. How am I supposed to make that into a yes?” He took the bottle from my hand and dropped it down on the ground next to his empty cup. The remaining liquid seeped out onto the dirt.

“I don’t know. It’s your job to figure that out.” I ran my now free hand down his chest. It was firmer and more muscular than I expected.

“My job, huh? I like the sound of that.” His lips tickled my ear. “I like the sound of anything involving you.” He took my hand and led me further into the grouping of trees. It wasn’t a dense forest or anything, but I knew he was looking for privacy. I didn’t object when he gently leaned me back into another tree.

I closed my eyes, ready to feel his lips and hands on my body. I was horrible at knowing what to do in those situations. I needed the guy to take control.

His lips brushed against mine as he rested his hand on my stomach. He slipped a few fingers underneath my shirt. “Am I earning a yes, or do I have more work to do?” he whispered with his lips right next to mine.

“You have more work.” I kept my eyes closed, taking in a breath as his hand moved further up my shirt.

My boots crunch in the yellow autumn leaves as I walk towards the schoolyard. I didn’t want to come today, but Momma told me I had no choice. She said school is for smart kids, and if I don’t go, then how am I ever going to get smart? I could get smart, the man on the television tells me everything I need to know. But she claims that I can’t make friends with the man on the television, that the only way to make friends is to go to school. I could have told her that I don’t need friends to be successful, but she’d only tell me I’m being silly.

So I came to school.

I didn’t tell her that there are bullies here, or that every day they push me around and shove me into lockers. That would make me sound weak, and now that my dad is working, and my brother is away because he didn’t like the school here, I’ve had to become the man of the house. There’s no room for weakness.

Momma tells me bullies pick on the kids who are victims. I think she’s wrong. I’m not a victim; I’m just a kid. They pick on me because I’m different. I don’t look at the girls like they do; I don’t try to sneak out to parties. I’m only thirteen. I’m just there to learn, then I go home and I take care of my family, because, I’m the man of the house.

Like I said.

The shrill sound of the school bell ringing, tells me I’m late. I pick up into a jog, rounding the corner and into the schoolyard. It’s a cool winter day, and I have to pinch my coat together to stop it from flapping in the icy breeze. I can see the students piling in the front doors, and I turn my jog into a run. I’m focusing so heavily on the doors, that I don’t see them. A strong hand lashes out, catching hold of my sleeve and tugging me into the alleyway that runs down beside my school.

I always knew this alley was dangerous.

My body is slammed against a hard wooden fence, and I set eyes on my bullies. Four of them. They’re all bigger than me, all of them on the football team. They’re from a few grades up, and they’ve just turned sixteen. The leader of the group, Marcel, steps forward first. He scrunches his nose in disgust, as if I’ve just dragged myself out of a gutter, as if I’m offending him. He leans in close, and I can smell cigarettes on his breath.

Smoking is not cool.

“You’ve been trying to avoid me, Will. Did you really think you could hide at home with Mommy, and never have to come out again?”

I stare at him, wondering why he chose me to pick on. I didn’t even know his name until he flagged me down and shoved my head down a toilet six months ago. I was just a kid, keeping my head down, studying and learning like I should. Now here I am, pressed against a fence, wondering why they decided I was good enough to take extra special effort to attack. I don’t bother answering him; it’ll only make him worse. My answers won’t make a difference. If I answer, I’m wrong. If I don’t answer, I’m wrong.

“Are you fucking mute, you little cunt?”

My body jerks. I hate that word, it’s so…vulgar. I let my eyes move to the four other guys standing like protective pack animals around Marcel. I don’t know their names; they’re not significant enough. The tall boy with orange hair looks nervous, like he knows what’s about to happen could put him in a world of trouble - but he’s still here, still making the choice to stay. The other two guys are stony faced, and fully aware of their part in this attack.

I still don’t answer him. If I just let them beat me, it’ll go away quicker.

“You’re a freak, Will, do you know that?” Marcel hisses, leaning in closer.

Of course I know that. I wouldn’t be pinned against a fence if I didn’t know that.

Bullies are so dumb.

Marcel raises his fist, and brings it down over my face, cracking my nose so hard blood spurts onto his shirt. I don’t cry out, because that’s what he wants, but the pain radiating through my head is nearly enough to make me beg. Nearly. Marcel takes hold of my shirt, and his grey eyes scan my face. He’s panting, as though I’ve shoved him into an alley and challenged him. Like this is my fault. The world is twisted like that, and it’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.

“You know,” he growls, locking eyes with me. “I heard my girl saying how handsome you were the other day. Do you know how much it sucks to have my girl saying that a freak is handsome? Especially a freak that’s only what? Thirteen years old? Your dick would be no bigger than a tube of damned lipstick, yet she thinks you’re handsome!”

I wouldn’t know how much it sucks to have a girl say that, because I don’t have a girl.

Again, bullies are dumb.

“Don’t answer me, you little twerp. It doesn’t matter. I will make sure by the time you leave this alley; you’re not handsome anymore. I won’t have my competition being some little weasel that can’t even speak.”

I taste blood filling my mouth, and my nose is pounding so heavily I’m almost sure I can hear my own heart in my head. I don’t take my eyes from Marcel. They say look danger right in the eye; it gives you power and strength. I don’t feel powerful right now, in fact, I don’t really feel anything. Someone like me doesn’t fight, I’m the underdog, and underdogs are weak. Everyone knows it.

Marcel reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a pocket knife. The heart that feels like it’s in my head begins thumping even harder. I try not to show fear, I try to stand tall and take what he dishes out with strength, but that’s not so easy when your attacker is waving around a pocket knife.

“She said it was your eyes,” he begins, lazily tracing circles on his palm with the blade. “She said they’re the most stunning eyes she’s ever seen. Like the ocean.”

I didn’t know my eyes were like the ocean.

He takes hold of my shirt, yanking me close. “No one is more appealing to my girl, than me.”

They say bad things happen in slow motion, they’re right. I feel Marcel throw me down onto the floor. I feel every movement as my body slammed into the dirt. I feel his body weight coming over me, his knees pinning me down as I squirm. I feel his friend take my arms, pulling them above my head, while another puts a hand over my mouth. With my nose pouring with blood, that makes it difficult to breathe.

I feel the knife ripping into my skin as I thrash my head from side to side, and I can feel the blood pouring down the sides of my face. Each time he attempts to stab me, I move and the knife only slices through the skin around my eye. My pained wails fill the alley, but no one comes to help me. No one is around in the one moment of my life that I need them.

I know what I’ll remember most about that day, and that is the moment he finally manages to drive the knife into my eye.

I don’t feel pain, not right away. Instead I hear the popping sound, as his blade pierces right through. Then I feel pressure as he twists. It’s only when he yanks it out of its socket, that I start to scream. Then the pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Words cannot begin to explain the horror I feel as darkness begins to invade my body. I know my face is covered in blood, because it drips down to soak my hair. I know I bite his friends hand so hard I nearly take off his finger.

I don’t know what they’re saying, or even acknowledge the moment when they run away. All I know was that I am bleeding to death in an alley, missing an eye. Red fills my vision as the blood begins to cover every part of my face. I know I’m still screaming, even though I can’t hear it. All I can hear is an excessive ringing in my ears. I can’t even move my hands to cover my eye, in an attempt to protect the empty socket. I can do nothing but lay and scream, witnessing a pain that I’ll never witness again in my life, and wondering what I did to deserve it.

No one deserves to die.

But I do die that day.

And in my place, a monster is born.

"I'm being punished for turning you on?"

Another shake of his head. "No. You are being rewarded for turning me on. But we're doing it my way. You teased the f*&k out of me, and now I want to watch you squirm. Crawl up on my bed and get on your hands and knees."

She held up her wrists, a sexy wink in her eyes. "I've been waiting for this."

"Go, woman. And leave your shoes and stockings on."

“Tell me not to,” Shane said, his voice a raw scrape.

“I can’t,” Crystal whispered in a shaky voice. “I don’t want to.”

Shane’s body took over then, all urgent need and basic instinct. The rest of the world be damned. He pulled her in and kissed her, his lips devouring, his tongue exploring deep. Nothing held back. Nothing denied. Not even as her lips reawakened the sting from the cut on his lip. Totally worth it.

Crystal’s arms came up around him. She trembled against him, and Shane wasn’t sure if it was caused by adrenaline or fear. Unable to tolerate the thought that she might feel forced, he eased off.

She moaned and held him tighter, like his retreat had made something snap within her. Their kisses deepened, and her body moved against his, sinuously, maddeningly, desperately.

They tasted one another again and again, giving in to the heat that had sparked between them from the moment Crystal had collided with him at Confessions. Little nips and bites of lips and teeth warred with long, sensual strokes of tongue that stole his breath and made him instantly hard. The sting in his lip, the throb of his GSW, the aches from Nick’s asskicking, every bit of it faded away—no, her touch made it all go away.

The few times they’d spoken, Crystal had most often been guarded, tentative, fearful. Just as she’d been when he first kissed her. But, now, she was revealing a passionate woman who could be fearless, giving and receiving openly and without hesitation. Christ, the thought that this fierceness was the real Crystal slayed him because it meant she was burying and denying her true self, not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

No, because someone forced her to.

The thought reminded him of the bruises on her arm. Shane had known this woman for three days, and twice in that time she’d been hurt by another man. And both as a consequence for things Shane had done.

A crack of thunder echoed from the heavens, making Crystal jump and gasp into his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped around a kiss.

Part of him wanted to say more, to tell her he had her and he’d keep her safe. But he couldn’t make himself give up her heat, her sweetness, her obvious hunger—for him.

So he made her a silent promise instead.

Never again, Crystal. He’ll never hurt you again. Not on my watch.

Because Shane McCallan had made a mistake like that once. And, as bad as his sister’s disappearance had been, something’s happening to Crystal would actually be worse because Shane knew it was coming. The one break he’d ever given himself over Molly was that he’d had no way to know she’d be abducted. Didn’t excuse the role he played in allowing it to happen, but he couldn’t have known. But with Crystal, while he might not know when or how this Bruno asshole would strike out to do the ultimate damage, it was all but a done deal at this point. Always was with guys like him. And Shane would go to the grave before he let it happen, before he failed another female for whom he cared.

Because he did care. Made no damn sense given how long he’d known her. And the timing was beyond piss-poor. But there it was all the same

“I don’t think of Zayne that way!” 

She laughed. “What man-parts-loving female in this world doesn’t think of Zayne that

way? I can barely keep myself breathing when I see him. All the guys in school have squishy

waists. I can tell Zayne doesn’t. He’s the awesome sauce with extra sauce.”

That he was and he so didn’t have a squishy waist, but I tuned Stacey out at that point. I

really did need to cram for this test and I also didn’t want my fantasies involving Zayne to

occupy my mind right now. Especially after I’d woken up this morning, carefully tucked under

the covers. The bed had smelled like him: sandalwood and crisp linen. 

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus in a manger,” Stacey murmured.

I clenched my jaw, cupping my hands over my ears.

She jabbed me in the side with her elbow. At this rate I’d be covered in bruises before

lunchtime. “Our bio class just got a billion times more interesting. And hotter, lots and lots

hotter. Holy mother, I want to have his babies. Not now of course, but definitely later. But I’d

like to start practicing soon.”

The cell wall is a thick and rigid layer covering the plasma something, something plant

cells… 

Stacey stiffened all of a sudden. “Oh my God, he’s coming—”

              Composed of fat and sugar--

Something slender and shiny fell from who knew where, landing in the middle of Sam’s

notes. Blinking tightly, it took me a couple of seconds to recognize the faded and half peeled

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sticker covering the back of the silver cell phone.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Gripping the edges of the notebook, I slowly lifted

my gaze. Unnaturally beautiful golden eyes met mine.  

“You forgot this last night.”