Burdened (A Burdened Novel) (15 page)

“So do you like him?” Is she running out of
Scott
to talk about?

“Yes,” I answer smoothly. This is something I know for sure.

“Well, I hope me and Scott can get like you and Nathan. You all look happy.”

We could be happier if Scott would get his shit together.
“Yeah.” I rub my fingers over my eyebrows.

“Are you tired, Tracey?”

“Yeah, why?” I ask oddly.

“You only do that eyebrow thing when you are tired or irritated.”

“So why not ask if I was irritated?”

“Because I would have gotten mad if you said yes.”
We both laugh.

We joke around a little about her Scott impressions, until the boys come out. Excitement thrills me, looking at Nathan walk towards me, dressed in my colors with matching shoes. He is definitely hot, and looks great in orange. He is
so
starting something; he just doesn’t know it yet.

Scott hands him what looks like some keys. “Come on, Tracey,” he calls over to me. I jump down from the trunk of my car. Glen follows. I start to walk to him and he shakes his head and points to the silver car. “Get in. The doors are unlocked.”

Never.

I turn to the car. “This is not your car,” I state in disbelief.

“That’s the same thing I said,” Glens says behind me.

A C-Class 550 Benz is your car
? I decide to ask in my head. Glen is a little too comfortable around him.

Yes, it is. Is there a problem with that
?

My dad drives one of these.
I don’t know yet
. I walk to the passenger door, letting myself in. He and Scott are slowly approaching.
You have to let me drive this
, I think to him, closing the door.

It’s fully loaded and he gets in and starts the engine with his voice. The engine starts and it isn’t the only thing that silently roared to life. His voice is deep when he wants it to be, but soft and welcoming at the same time.

I watch him as he drives. He smirks a couple of times, but never looks over at me. I am infatuated with him, hypnotized, and desire nothing else. All of this I realize as I watch him look around the road, check his blind spots while he moves through the lanes, check corners before he turns. When someone does something on the road that he isn’t expecting, or if they inconvenience him, his jaw clenches tight, like he is containing his anger. It’s hot.

Glen is in the backseat, rambling about something I don’t care to pay attention to. But I keep her talking by saying ‘uh huh’ and ‘yeah,’ not realizing until after I did it. It doesn’t matter to me anymore that they are here, because I’m still here with him. Although, I would much rather prefer to be asleep right now with him holding me in those arms, which are currently protruding from the short sleeves of his shirt.

We pull into the parking lot of the movie theater. “Oh, I love the show, Nathan,” Glen blurts from the backseat. “What are we going to see?” My body reacts violently from her speaking directly to
him.
Calm down, Tracey. Be cool
, I tell myself.

“Glen, sit back. We’ll see when we get in there.” Apparently, I’m not the only one that didn’t like that. Scott sounds pissed.

Nathan reaches over, grabbing my hand. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, with my hand against his lips. Those lips. They do something unruly to me—and whatever it is, I enjoy it.

He parks the car and the boys exit, walking over to our doors to help us out.

Nathan drapes his arm over my shoulders and kisses my cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”
I look over to Glen and Scott. Scott is smiling, telling something to Glen that made her match his smile. I can see what she means about his mood swings.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s fighting with himself. Half of him wants it and the other half doesn’t, so he has episodes of happy and angry. Nothing serious that we have to worry about, but it would be easier on him and Glen if he stopped fighting.”

“Does Glen feel the pain like how I do?”

“I think it is a little worse for her, because he is still rejecting her, even after giving into the need to mate. But she doesn’t know, nor understand, what’s going on. And no, Tracey, it is not your place to tell her.”

“Why would you think—”

“I know you, Tracey, and I know how much you care about your friend. Just remember, you could ruin them if you mention to her any of what I told you. Okay?”

“Okay. What do you mean by mate?”

“That’s what you are to me, my mate. We are mated, accepting of one another.” He pauses,
then follows with, “Ideally-suited for each other.”

“So you’re my mate?”

“I am, and you’re mine. You okay with that?”

“I am.”

We all agree to watch some movie about kids killing each other. I don’t care what we
see, I’m just going to fall asleep anyway. I enjoy going to the movies, but not when I’m asshole tired. We order popcorns and drinks, and make our way to theater seven, like the ticket taker told us.

We couple up in separate rows, the guys taking the end seats. I watch the entire movie, kids are really killing each other, and it’s a pretty good movie. Nathan dozed off a few times, and that tells me he is as tired as I am.

Scott lets Glen rest her head on his shoulder as he goes back and forth, putting his arm around her and taking it away. I watch them and the movie; both are equally entertaining.

After the show, Nathan treats all of us to dinner, and after, we go to Scott’s house. We sit around Scott’s living room, and the boys talk about the football game they’re watching. I lean against Nathan, frequently dozing off. The game finally ends and I’m ready to crash out—hard.

Scott’s parents still aren’t home and he says, “It’s okay for Glen to stay over here.” He doesn’t sound too thrilled about it, although he answered the unasked question.

I call my mom’s phone, and she lets me know she is going out to visit my dad and will be away for a few days. I can’t be happier about the news.

Nathan and I head back to my house in my car. It’s a little after midnight by the time we get there. We clean up the family room, where I had left the blow-up mattresses. He helps me fold the sheets and extra comforters, including the blow up mattresses themselves—which are heavy—and puts them away.

Plopping down on the couch, exhausted, I lay my head back. Nathan picks me up and carries me to my room. I let him, too tired to fight it. He takes off my shoes, after laying me on my bed. “Would you like to change your clothes?”

“Yes. Do you mind if I sleep in shorts?”

“No, you can wear your shorts. You want me to get them for you?”

“Yes, please. The second drawer from the top.” I point to my chester drawers. He gets them for me, and I leave to go to the bathroom to change and freshen up.

When I return, he is walking from the chaise to the bed, rubbing his hand through his hair by pushing it back. He has on sweats and no shirt. Whoa!

His sweatpants sit low on his hips, low enough to see the V-cut of his waist. Every muscle is exposed, chest sits high, and every cut and pectoral pack his body possess lies upon his stomach. He’s ripped.

He looks at me looking him over, then picks up his shirt from my bed and starts to turn to walk back to the chaise. If his back looks as good as his front, we are going to have some real problems with this newly-found relationship, including, controlling desires.

“Don’t look, Tracey, don’t look.”

I look. And his back looks
just
as good as it felt last night. I watch as it flexes, while he walks over to the chaise, where his bag sits. “Why do you look like that?” It is impossible for someone to look this good.

“What type of question are you asking me?” He looks back at me, over his shoulder.

His body calls me to him, begging me to touch him. And willingly, I go to him—with his back facing me, giving my hands what they want. He is warm under my touch, and smooth to the feel. I resist the urge to feel him under my lips as I move from his shoulder blades, down his back, and around to his stomach. Up his stomach, my fingertips rise and fall over the ridges and creases of his skin that’s pulled tight over his muscles. To his chest, they travel, then back down. His head falls back, looking up towards the ceiling as he lets out a deep breath.

Pleasure—it calls me to him. I can no longer resist. My hands travel over his navel, following his smooth trail lower. His hands meet mine, when they meet the waistline of his sweats, keeping them from not following the trail through.

I move back up, his hands still on mine. I place a kiss in the middle of the crease in his back. The muscles tighten up, not expecting it. I rise up on my tip-toes, placing another just inches above the last. I move to each side, kissing it slowly, letting my tongue make contact before my lips. Even after a long day, his taste is sweet.

His hands grab a hold of mine. “What are you doing to me?”

“What are you
not
doing to me?” I reply, in a serious tone.

He turns around and looks at me. “This isn’t you talking.”

Then let’s stop talking.

I grab him by his neck, bringing him down to me. I place my lips on his, kissing him, putting all the sexual force I have behind it. He lets me. Bending down, he lifts me up to him, holding me by my thighs. He carries me, effortlessly, over to my bed, and places me down, gently. Hands still on my thighs, he squeezes them aggressively. I grab his shoulders, in an attempt to pull him closer.

He stops me, by pulling away. “Tracey, don’t.”

I huff in aggravation. If he only knew how long it’s been since I had sex, he would stop telling me ‘don’t.’ Not to mention, how hot he is, and the fact that my body is craving him, in every way possible.

“I know you’re aggravated, but I also know you would be upset, if we did this and you weren’t ready.”

I look down at myself, with him kneeling between my legs. “No, I’m definitely ready.”

“You’re ready?” he asks, moving himself from me so that we aren’t touching. “Hold your breath before you answer.”

“Why am I holding my breath?”

“Just do it.”

I do. I cover my face, confused. I want it, I do, but…I’m not ready. I push my hands up my face and over my hair in frustration. It’s not right, to go there, right now. I don’t even know his last name. He has a point. “Okay,” I say, letting go of the breath. Taking a deep breath, the desire rushes back. I don’t understand.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.” I haven’t had a drink today.

“From me. That’s what I meant last night about you needing to control it. The same for me needing to control mine with you. You can become overwhelmed and drunk from me, as I can from you. Breathing in my scent, touching me, and kissing me, plus thinking about me, will have you doing things you wouldn’t do if you were just able to control one of those urges. And to add, you are also affected by my urges.”

“Well, aren’t you affected by my urges as well?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then why can’t you give in?” He laughs at me, sitting me up on the bed.

“Hi, Tracey Warren. I’m Nathan Newcomb.” He sits next to me. “I was unfortunately born a burdened Sephlem. My age to the human world is twenty. As you know, I am older than that, much older than that—in my world. My mother and father’s names are Natalia and Nathan. I was named after my father, but we do not share the same middle name. My middle name is Keith.

“Before I met you, my days were filled with mischievous events, fighting to let off stress, and wasting my time with girls that meant nothing to me. Honestly, I’ve been with a lot of girls, but I never cared for any of them.” His eyes look away and back quickly. “Yes, that’s bad, and I’m sorry about that.” They squint and reopen.
“A little.

“I now, only care for you, and want for you to be my world’s atmosphere.
You know most of the story about what I come from, and understand I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe. I would tell you I love you, if I had not only met you a few days ago, and if it was ordinary for humans to fall in love so quickly.”

“It is. It’s called ‘love at first sight.’” I pause, moving closer to him. “That’s what I get from your definition of us
mating
, anyway. Love at first sight, and knowing that this person is meant for you. I know that I am meant to be with you. I know that everything else in the world doesn’t matter. I know what I feel for you is not just in my head, but in my heart, fingertips, toes, pit of my stomach—everywhere that I have feeling is saturated by you.” I pause, making sure I have my words right. “It is weird to feel this way, but it’s real. And I had an attraction to you before you touched me.”

“Tracey, I don’t want you to be attracted to me. I want you to love me because you’re in love with me.” That, I wasn’t expecting.

I look at him, his expression full of affection. I stare in his swirling eyes as they fight with what color to become. I can tell in the swirl, he doesn’t know what way to feel. I kiss his lips sweetly and say, “Come on, Mr. Newcomb. Let’s go to bed.”