My fingers clench the countertop. The sharp edges press into my palm, but I ignore them. My eyes are set on the mirror, watching a woman—a stranger—stare back at me.
The woman's dark eyes are distant, nearly sunken. The light has been completely drained from them, leaving her dark blue irises to shadow her pupil, appearing just a shade lighter. She is a grown person, by the look of it, just a few years over twenty. The makeup applied to her face brings out her striking features, adding a dangerous tone to her expression. She wears a torn, short dress that barely covers her thighs, the color matching the black, tousled locks of her hair.
I am dark, silent, mysterious, and alluring. I am a different person on the surface, although beneath it I am still the same girl, falling deeper and deeper away from reality. I am a stranger.
Cracks burst across the counter as my grip tightens. The strain of my trembling fingers is breaking it. I can't help it, though, as the struggle of waiting prods my temper. I watch the small, white object placed over the sink in the corner of my eye as it thinks, processing.
"Uley! Hurry up! What's taking so damn long?"
A snarl passes through my clenched teeth. I shake my head, brushing off the impatient voice outside my window. I drag a deep breath through my nose before my hand snatches the object from the counter. My eyes lock on the single mark.
Negative.
My fingers crush the test to bits. I don't hesitate anymore. My elbow connects with the door, busting it open. I let out a large breath and then duck through the window without looking back.
()()()
After being back with the pack for a week, I have learned that being human drags me down. I am mentally falling into forbidden places of my mind that open further and further with every passing moment. Every human emotion and memory has started to suddenly rush back to me at random instances, knocking me breathless and driving me toward the edge of insanity. Losing my humanity and becoming nothing more than an animal once more seems like the only antidote for all this.
But becoming a wolf again is a stupid thing to do.
I can't leave the pack, not now. For one thing, I just got back. For another, being around the pack isn't so bad anymore. The pack actually holds a level of respect for me . . . sometimes. Will I really be so selfish to ditch them before I even finish my task, just because I'm struggling?
Hell no.
I know I must stay despite the effect everything is having on me. I don't care if it's going to be hard; once I have my mind set, there's no changing it. Staying here might not be so bad if there is more freedom. I can't move, I can't think, I can't
breathe. The pack is used to the restrictions of reservation life and they don't understand how tight everything is. They see me slide out of control as the pressure strangles me and they stay away from me as much as they can. Even Paul has started to slowly distance himself, sensing how unstable I really am. The space was nice at first, but as the pack gives me more and more of it, maybe
too much of it, I don't really appreciate it anymore.
As I find myself alone, alcohol becomes my friend. It doesn't talk back, doesn't judge me . . . it can't even stare at me. Alcohol gives me nothing but colors. No memories, no pain. Just hues of red, blue, and purple. The pack never sees me drunk; I will not allow that. Only one other wolf knows about all of this.
On the fourth day since my arrival, Leah invites me out to the cliffs after Paul is too busy with patrols to go to the beach with me. When I get there, I learn that almost on a nightly basis, Leah sneaks a few bottles from her house after patrol and heads out to the cliffs. I join her now, enjoying the peace and salty breezes. We sit out there, talking about wolf life and casual things until we can't form words anymore. Leah's company is one of the few things that gets me out of bed in the mornings. Leah is the more or less guilty one here because she doesn't use alcohol to clear her head, but to buzz her out completely. Not that I will blame her for it; she has a lot on her shoulders and the pack isn't exactly fond of her, either.
But Leah is someone who knows how to set smart boundaries. She knows that if we go too far with the alcohol, addiction will set in and we both will rot away as alcohol takes over, becoming our one and only priority. Leah also knows that we need some time away from wolf life, time to spend to ourselves. So, one night each week, we head over to the Clearwater house, clean up, and head off to Seattle. I think most people call it a girls' night out.
There are a couple exceptional nightclubs in Seattle. The music alone is a therapy; the beat traps your soul and takes your mind away from the world. During those easy nights in the clubs, I also discover that I can dance. No, not the cheesy ballerina kind of dancing. I mean the
real kind of dancing. Leah is not one for dancing, so she tends to wander off and leave me to it.
Tonight is much the same. Sam excuses our patrol and we all spread out, heading back home for the night. At first, I jog off toward Sam's house, but once the rest of the pack's minds have faded, I slip into the brush and head for Leah's. We both clean up and head out in Sue's car, unnoticed.
The club is full when we get there, and it seems like everyone is moving around but Leah and me. For now, I stand in the shadows. My drink is empty. Leah stands next to me, her body swaying, a clear sign that she has drunk a little too much. I glance over at her as she stumbles over to my side.
"Hey, J, Ineed a drinkortwo," she slurs as she places a hand on my shoulder to steady herself.
I raise one eyebrow at her. "I don't think you really
need another drink, Leah. Shit, you don't need one at all. You're wasted."
Leah waves her free hand and shakes her head. "No, that'sgreat. Theymake . . . cute."
"This isn't very cute." I shake my head and narrow my eyes. "Why don't you go find a seat, take a break?"
"Okay, Jord," Leah laughs. "You don't needtowait around for me, okay? Okay."
With that, I watch Leah slip into the crowd, crashing into just about everyone. I smirk after her for a bit before I step back into the shadows. There is no need to follow her; she can take care of herself just as well as I can.
My eyes find the dance floor again and I study the people. I feel irritated that these people are still dancing while I stand here, but I know now is not my time. My patience is slipping fast as I wait for my turn to start. My heart thunders in my ears, my gaze flicking around as I wait.
It might have been seconds, or maybe even hours, but eventually, the sound of the DJ's voice breaks over the thump of music and the crowd parts to the sides, inviting all those up for a challenge onto the floor. The music stutters before blaring again as both men and women enter the center of the crowd, all fighting to get in the center as the spotlight makes its way around.
A twisted smirk curls on my lips. I open my hand, my glass crashing to the ground. I stroll through the crowd toward the center of the floor, people stepping aside as they see me coming. The last line of people make way for me just as someone kills the lights and the black lights come out, turning everything up a notch. It's just my style.
Style. Mine is so much different than others. It can attract, or it can scare. Some of the men that come around only lay eyes on me for a second before they continue on through the crowd. Others stop and stare. It doesn't matter what they do, because once they see my body moving, all common sense takes a trip down south. I can pull in a small crowd. My movements are so much different. I move with the balance and skill of a fighter, as my body works with a fighter's limitless movements, but the strength that says too much. Fighting and dancing are both lethal, in different yet exactly the same ways. They're both a sin. It doesn't matter, though, because now that I've went in, there's no way back.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I step onto the floor. Bodies move in sync, all trapped in the same beat. I can feel myself already getting pulled in, my control slipping away. The spotlight's coming closer, brushing my skin, but I'm already moving. I can feel the white light hit me, blinding but intoxicating as it captures my movements, pointing me out. Many pairs of eyes are glued to my body, trailing lower as they study my style. The second the spotlight slips away, a pair of hands grab me, claiming me while pulling me off to the corner of the floor.
In just a few seconds, the beat makes things get physical. It has infected me and slipped under my skin, pulling me apart. My partner is my shadow, following my lead. His hands trace the shape of my body, moving slow as if they like what they find. I feel my temperature rise as his hand takes my wrist and he leads me out of the crowd.
The night blurs away from there. My body feels fuzzy from the dull burn of the fading adrenaline. I ignore it. My body is trapped in the hypnotizing pulse of music, making everything else in the world have no importance to me. My partner never leaves, staying with me while somehow keeping up with my pace. Gradually, the world fades away.
Time zips by. It seems like the music only grows louder and the bodies around me are only getting closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Eventually, my blood starts to boil. I can prominently feel my heart hammering in my chest. The wolf in me rises, struggling for dominance. My control is slipping.
Slipping.
Slipping.
Slipping.
One word forms in my scattered mind: escape. I shove my partner back, knocking him into the crowd. The flashing lights blur my vision as my temperature rockets. I charge through the crowd of closely packed bodies, the world around me closing in. The air is suddenly too thick and humid. Everything is so
hot.
Hotter.
Hotter.
Hotter.
When I finally make it through the crowds toward the back, I am facing two identical doors. Both of the doors are crowned with blinking emergency exit signs. I blink once and growl under my breath, shaking my head to clear it. My fist draws back, strength surging through my muscles. The door looks fuzzy as it sways from side to side, but I can still picture it exploding into millions of slivers of wood on contact. I grin, my arm just about to fire forward when a sure, steady hand catches my fist.
"Hey, sweetheart," a male's voice whispers in my ear. "Just where are you going?"
The closeness of another's body triggers a need for defense. I launch myself back around, moving with impossible speed. The man's eyes bulge as I suddenly have him pinned to the wall, his arm awkwardly twisted behind his head while my forearm blocks his airways. I hold the man there, his feet dangling above the ground, studying his face with skeptical eyes.
By just a glance, there is nothing wrong with the man. His features are soft with youth, his style unique, and his eyes are an alluring shade of green. My senses stretch through the natural, though. The sharp scent of alcohol burns his breath. His eyes are glazed and bloodshot, and there is just something not right about the angle of his sloppy, crooked smile. I narrow my eyes, my lip curling back over my teeth as I am struck with recognition.
My partner has caught up with me.
I shake my head, wordlessly expressing my disgust. I release him and he falls, stumbling over the ground, his mouth moving in silent laughter. I exhale sharply again and spin around, kicking the door clean off its hinges. I watch it explode against the alley wall as I slip outside the club and into the shadowed alley.
Night air greets me kindly, covering my skin in a thin, cooling layer. I breathe it in, allowing it to soothe my buzzing senses. I blink away the flashes of lights, leaning my back against the rough, bumpy surface of the wall. I can still hear the thumping music in the background. My mind hums as it works way too quickly. A breeze tickles my nostrils, carrying the sweet scent of alcohol with it. It swirls around me and lingers in my nose as if it is attempting to lure me back in.
My gaze darts back to the door, clearly seeing the red exit sign flash. I stare at the door, my thoughts rushing together as I try to decide what to do next. I don't have to decide, though; the decision is made for me.
Lights shoot out into the alley as the door swings open. A figure stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck as he peers down the alley. Through my suddenly hazy vision, I can still see the lazy, drunken smile on my partner's face as he spots me. The door clatters shut and he strolls over to me with a sway to his step. The wolf inside me rises again, the heat smoldering words right out of my throat.
The next thing I know, the man is there, his arms braced against the wall as he hovers over me. He reeks of trouble; he speaks nonsense, his words slurring and tangling together. I stare at him, my eyes level with his, my body fighting to stay in its false form. The man lets out a shaky, crazed laugh as he presses in closer to me. I can tell he's still trapped in the beat, his body working as he tries to get a response out of me.
There is nothing else to do but play along.
I whisper to him smoothly. "You like this?" I slide my hands over his shoulders, my arms wrapping around his neck.
He nods and grins, trailing his fingers up my thighs.
"You want that?"
The man breathes more heavily now as my legs lock around his waist. His careless lips press into my flaming skin, melting against my heat. He shudders violently and groans. I smirk as my nails catch in his shirt. The man's teeth grind together, his rough hand traveling up my exposed back and neck while sliding into my hair and grabbing a fist full. He firmly shoves my head back and exposes my neck.
"Hold still, nasty little whore," he orders. His grip tightens as he starts to pull at my clothes, peeling them away.
The wolf inside me stretches and starts to fight ferociously against my control. I can no longer deny the wolf as the man's words light a spark in me, his actions setting the fire. I'm blazing now, and I can't control it.
My hands catch his head and jerk it roughly to the side. I hold his head steady, forcing him to look at me. His eyes twitch at the murderous glint in my expression, and a sneer rises on my face.
"What did you call me?" I demand. My voice is trembling, but still smooth.
"I-I d-d-d-didn't call you anything," the man stutters. His hands fall away from me, dropping to his sides.
My legs constrict his waist slowly, the pressure building until they make an audible crack. The man coughs roughly and shoves me, but his attempts are useless. "You're
lying," I snarl.
"W-What the hell is w-wrong with y-y-ou?" The man gags, his knees buckling as he stares at me blankly. His face pales as blood trickles from his nose.
A smile appears on my face, spoiled with darkness. "There's a long list."
It is then that I can no longer suffocate the wolf inside me. The wolf erupts inside of me and my body stretches out, exploding into another form. The man doesn't get a chance to scream; his voice doesn't even pass through his throat. The man's flesh tears from his body, blood splattering the alley in a thick wave of crimson. The mangled body falls limply to the ground, a puddle of his own blood expanding around him.
I am left alone, staring at the twisted, deformed shreds of the man. I know that he had full intentions to corrupt me, but I am not one to allow anything like that to happen.
Nobody messes with Jordan Uley. Some just have to learn that lesson the hard way.
My body spins back around and steadily paces out of the alley, heading toward the glowing lights just beyond the alley. Thankfully the pack mind is silent and I have no company, so putting this behind me won't be an issue. Leah will find her own way back; she even doesn't want me to wait around for her. Just a quick charge through the park and I can hit the forest again, leaving all of this behind me. Sure, there would be new rumors of Washington's killing wolves on the news. I won't be the one who gives a damn, either. Sure, this probably has been a mistake that, once uncovered, will make hell for me. But I have to learn lessons, too, and what the pack doesn't know doesn't kill them.
The instant my paws touch the soft, undisturbed grass of the park, I shoot off again. I soar through the park with acquired speed and grace, not bothering a single blade of grass, before I hit the forest. My speed accelerates and my mind goes free, muscle, bone, and body all working in harmony. Even the questioning thoughts that scroll through my mind don't bother me now; the memories all slip away soon enough.
I force my thoughts away as I rush toward home. I don't need to wallow around any longer, just waiting for myself to snap. I came here with a task to complete and I need to fulfill it. I need to fight. I need to
kill.
And as long as the Cullens are still in existence, that need won't go away.