6

HOPE’s POV

This morning brings me no respite. I wake up with non-stop sneezing, something shifters do not have to endure. I blame it on yesterday’s downpour, that and my non-existent wolf. Without my wolf, I do not have the accelerated healing abilities that all the other shifters do. I run like a human, I fight like a human and I hurt and bleed like a human.

“Goodness!” Mom places a hand on my forehead and tsks at me, shaking her head a little as her eyes shift between the ticking clock on our bedroom wall and my tangled hair.

“You’re a little feverish, Hope,” she says, her face contorted into worry. Mom is running late, she needs to make breakfast for eight kids, courtesy of little Belinda’s school picnic today.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me. I’m not a kid anymore,” I say, gently prying her hand away from my head.

“But –“

“Really,” I shoo her out the door. “I’ll go buy some Tylenol from the pharmacy later.”

Mom is not convinced. She frowns even as I get out of bed and push her to the door. “Yes, just go.”

I open the door and give her a nudge out the door but she turns around and her lips curl in a downward fashion.

“Drink more water, Hope,” she wags a finger at me and I nod absentmindedly before closing the door in her face. Moms. They think water can solve everything.

I remember when I had a toothache as a child, mom’s remedy would be to, “Drink more water, Hope.”

And when I had a sore throat, it would be, “Drink your water, Hope.”

Or if I got a sunburn, she would also say, “That’s ‘cause you didn’t drink enough water.”

You’d think that water was the holy grail or something.

I shake my head and drag myself to the shower to freshen up before school. We have an algebra test today, though I think it should not be an issue for me. I had studied hard for the test the past few nights.

I turn the handle and water, warm and soothing come raining down on me, wetting myself from head to toe. But as I scrub my body, my hand goes to my lower back and my fingers linger on the soft smooth skin where Blake had slapped last night. It doesn’t hurt anymore, in fact, standing under the hot shower, I feel a strange warmth form in between my thighs as I rub my back.

The warmth is strangely pleasurable and I allow my fingers to go further down, down to my most protected place, down to where no one should touch. I dip my finger in, pushing through the clitoris and a moan escapes my lips as thick, moist liquid seeps out –

“HOPE!!!!!”

Mom?

My eyes jerk open and I yank out my finger, suddenly realizing what I had been doing. The shower turns off and I tug at the towel hanging by the door, wrapping it around my naked form.

“GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THE BEDROOM AND EAT THE TYLENOL! I PUT THEM ON YOUR DESK! IF YOU DON’T TAKE THEM YOU’RE DEAD MEAT YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yes, mom!”

I hear the bedroom door slam shut. Mom is gone, but I had better take the medicine like she said, lest she really turns me to dead meat.

Water drips onto the tiled floor and I wipe off the fogged-up mirror to stare at my own reflection. Dark brown hair plastered all over my flushed face, either from the oncoming fever or embarrassment, I do not know.

I slap myself softly on both my cheeks.

“What were you thinking of, Hope?” I ask myself through gritted teeth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Get a grip on yourself!”

I think I hear the bedroom door open again before it closes and I quickly zip up my lips, Can’t have mom overhearing me talking to myself in the bathroom.

Quickly, I towel dry myself and slip on an undie before opening the bathroom door. Mom is gone but a pair of new jeans is laid on the bed, neatly folded, along with a new blouse too. I frown, walking closer to it, noticing how pretty the pastel colours of the blouse are. Did mom buy this for me?

A smile plays on my lips. Mom can be strict, but deep down, she loves me.

A hum escapes my lips as I pull up the jeans and hold the blouse in my hands, checking the label. It’s an ARMANI.

An ARMANI. A freaking ARMANI!

The material is so soft, not like the scratchy ones that we used to buy from the thrift store. How on earth did mom afford this? I chew on my bottom lip. Maybe it’s a hand-me-down from Blake’s mom. Mrs Parker is known to have a fondness for younger-looking clothes.

Well, guess I’ll just have to ask mom tonight after school. I button up the blouse, the smile still on my lips and hop over to the desk where the Tylenol is. I pop one into my mouth, and swallow it dry, ignoring the bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

Then, grabbing my books, I carefully place them in a plastic bag. I’ll have to go back to the store room in school to search for my bag. It should still be there, unless the janitor threw it out already.

The house is quiet when I leave my bedroom. Mom and I stay in the basement, far away from the sleeping quarters of the Blake family. We are like the unseen, only showing up when needed. But I like it that way, I like that we stay hidden. It is safer for mom and me this way.

Yes, safer. Safer from the hunters who came and took father’s life that fateful night. Safer from the hunters who burned down our house and killed every single member of our pack.

I ascend the steps up from the basement and walk across the empty kitchen. All is quiet. So quiet. Just like that night, many moons ago.

A shiver runs down my spine and I shake my head, trying to ward off the memories of that fateful night. It’s been years since mom and I managed to escape but I know that they are still out there.

Mom and I have been hopping from one town to another since then, never staying with a particular household for long. We cannot afford to leave traces of our existence behind.

We mustn't get caught –

“Good morning.”

Huh? My train of thought comes to a crashing halt when I open the door to the garage only to come face to face with Blake, my tormentor.

“You like the blouse?”

“Huh?” I blink and my eyes go down to the wonderfully silken fabric that wraps around my body and I suddenly realize the truth.

“You…you bought this?” I point to myself like a dummy.

“Yeap, and the jeans too.”

He nods, beaming rather proudly. This morning, Blake is looking exactly like he always does. Hot. Even when he is in just a simple white tee and matching blue jeans, he is effortlessly hot looking. Like a younger version of James Dean.

Wait. The shade of blue on my jeans…it’s exactly the same as his!

My jaw literally drops to the ground and my eyes just about pop out of my sockets.

“Come,” he grabs the plastic bag in my hands and tosses it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

I stand rooted to the ground, feeling as if I have lost my brain. “Go where?”

Blake laughs heartily. Dimples show on his cheeks and there is a twinkle in place of his stormy grey eyes. He is in a good mood today. “To school of course. Where else?”

He drapes a muscled arm over my bony shoulder and practically drags me to his car. I say nothing, nor do I retaliate.

‘You belong to me, Hope.’ His words, chilling and dark still ring in my head. I do not know what he has in mind but I do not want to find out.

When we reach his car, he shows his first gentlemanly act; something I have never seen before and opens the car door for me.

“In you go,” he says cheerfully. I eye the ground, not daring to look at him and quietly get into the passenger seat of his car. It smells brand new, his father had just bought the Bughatti for him a few weeks back for his birthday.

Blake closes the door for me and walks over to the other side before climbing in himself. The door slams and I literally jump in my seat.

Suddenly, Blake leans over and I squeeze my eyes shut. Is he going to choke me? Is he going to hit me again?

CLICK!

My eyes snap wide open when I realize that he had leaned over to put on my seatbelt.

Blake smirks, still leaning close to me. He knows exactly what I was thinking! He’s toying with me!

“What did you think I was going to do to you, Hope?” he asks, his voice low even as his eyes roam my face. He is so near, just like the night before.

I blink, many times.

“Nothing.” I sound like I swallowed a frog.

Blake chuckles before returning to his seat and placing his hands on the steering wheel. Then, his expression changes. It changes to something dark and unfathomable. One minute he was laughing and smiling and the next, he is brooding and menacing.

“Take out the contacts from the dashboard and put them on,” he barks an order. The engine roars to life and the garage door automatically opens, letting in the glory of the morning rays shine into the car.

My hands are shaking and I struggle to open the dashboard. But Blake says nothing more after this and the car rolls out of the garage. I put on the contacts as I am told as he drives out of the manor and down the sloping hill.

The contacts are coloured and they make my purple eyes look dark brown. I see myself frowning in the reflection of the tiny vanity mirror on the sun visor. I like my purple eyes. No one else in school has them. Which is probably one of the reasons why I am an outcast. Usually, omegas have purple eyes, but even then, the colour of their eyes will change to a dull brown once they find their wolves. The colour purple in my irises signifies that I am but the lowest of all in the hierarchy of shifters.

Perhaps Blake is ashamed of me. No matter. I do as he says.

The car comes to a smooth stop at the intersection and it is only then that Blake turns his head to look at me and smiles.

“Good,” he says when he sees my now chocolate-coloured eyes.

The road is now clear and he steps on the accelerator. We zoom off to school but right before we enter the gates of Wulf High, Blake gives me one more order.

“Tell everyone at school that I marked you. Tell everyone at school you belong to me.”