Khane
“Get up and fight, you stupid fucking wetback idiot!” Neither my father’s harsh words nor the fists of the three boys he had ordered to jump me, hurt as much as the punishment I knew would follow if I didn’t find a way to win the fight.
I was laid out in the dirt, getting kicked and pounded into the ground. Amid all the violent licks coming down on me, the screams and angry yells pouring from their faces, the only voice I heard was my father’s, promising me pain if I didn’t stand up and fight.
Just as I remembered ripping one of the boy’s ears off, I shook away the image, clearing my head. My father had turned me into the Animal. He had forced me to embrace only my anger and release only my rage. He had even forced me to embrace only my Caucasian side, insisting that my Mexican side, from my Mexican mother, was weak.
The introduction of Desiree into my life, six years ago, had solidified for me that there was more to life than anger and rage. Although she wouldn’t remember the first time we had met, meeting her had become one of the most important moments in my life.
It takes a mind-blowing act to shock me, but when Desiree had walked into my kitchen, I believed I had been seeing a ghost. The idea that she, of all people, would end up in my house was unfathomable.
If I had known she was who my brother had been talking about, there was no way in hell I would have agreed to watch her. She was the most stunning woman I had ever met in person. After being around her for this short time, I realized she was as modest about her beauty as I believed she was unaware of it and her charm.
It hadn’t been a full day and my house already smelled like her. She was a part of every crevice and corner. Every space she had lurked in, touched, and peeked into, permeated her fascinating scent like she had released her pheromones into the ventilation system.
Desiree had the kind of possessive beauty that had awakened my senses long before we had met face-to-face in my house. I fought the battle to remain standoffish but found myself responding to her anyway. Only she had seen this side of me, smiling, playful even. Hell, I didn’t even know I had it in me.
The notion that I could be this way with someone was as foreign as a language I was attempting to speak for the first time. She seemed to understand me better than anyone. She didn’t let my long stretches of silence deter her away from me. She appeared to want to be around me, following me from the dining room into the kitchen and into the living room when I exited the kitchen.
Unable to grasp what guided me, my interactions with her weren’t unnatural. If anything, I was forcing myself to hold back.
We had finished the dishes, and she had asked about a few of the pieces of art in the living room. A few pieces turned into me giving her a tour and telling her about how I had come across not only my art but some of my furniture. The way her face lit up as she admired the things in my house was a pleasant sight to see.
She surveyed my things with careful touches, and adoring gazes and I failed to stop myself from admiring her. Her eyes were the purest brown, big and gorgeous, moving under long waving lashes capable of teasing my intrigue and enticing my awareness.
The sight of her sultry lips gave me pause. They presented a doorway to a face that lived and breathed the definition of the word beautiful. Her rounded features were delicate, dark porcelain. She possessed an unblemished light maple complexion that beckoned to be stroked and dared you to turn away.
Since the moment she had shown up in my kitchen in her nightclothes, I had been pushing images of her body from my head. I understood that her attire had been unintentional, but I had almost passed out from blood loss as it had all traveled south. I’d had to remain seated to calm myself before I could retrieve one of my shirts for her. The shirt was as much for my benefit as hers.
Her long shapely legs were fit and strong. Her round tits with their small tight nipples were perfect in their fullness without a bra. Seeing her with a bra from now on would be a disappointment. Her slim waist introduced her sexy hips and plump ass, displaying a portrait of what a woman was supposed to look like. I was dead wrong for looking, but with her, I was helpless to stop myself.
She was among the few people who had seen my damaged eye, let alone stared into my face without the color contact I usually wore, and not shy away. I had not expected her to stumble sleepily into my kitchen, so I hadn’t bothered with putting my contact in.
People stared when they saw my discolored eye, their expressions offering me pity. Some flinched in fear. Desiree had stared, but she hadn’t run off. Instead, she had taken me in with ease. I had waited for her disgust or even pity, but only intrigue had rested in her gaze.
Unbeknownst to her, I had admired her designs from afar, proud that some had been featured in magazines. Her art, especially her gothic art, was among the best I had seen and had inspired the majority of the features and interior of my house. A few of her digital creations had been turned into framed art and sold at a local gallery a year ago. The pieces hung on the wall in my bedroom.
What would she think of me if she knew I followed her career? That I had purchased several pieces of her art and stalked her website to get a glimpse of the newest pictures she would post.
Overdone stories of my dealings had served me well. I often got my jobs done with speed and finesse when people realized who they were dealing with. However, she was more relaxed with me now that she understood that I wasn’t the savage beast my reputation made me out to be.
Desiree’s help with the dishes earlier was the best gift I had ever received, telling of how minute my positive human interactions were. When her hand brushed mine the first time, a jolt of impulses rose to the surface of my skin. Thankfully, I’d been able to ignore them by reminding myself that she was my brother’s intended bride. When she did it a second time, on purpose, I had unintentionally allowed her to see my reaction. It couldn’t be helped. She had that much of an effect on me.
How was it that my brother was marrying the woman I had been secretly obsessed with for the past six years?
* * *
Desiree followedme up the steep steps to the only area on the second level to the observation deck. The deck was a circular glass room that presented a stunning view of the mountains I lived on and all of the beauty nestled in their surroundings.
In the distance, small waterfalls waved, tall trees undulated to nature’s flow, and distant animal calls beckoned for attention.
The view, the fresh air, and the way nature freely soothed me in wind-wrapped embraces were all gifts I never grew tired of. When I wanted a livelier scene, I would slide the glass doors apart and step onto the large balcony area that housed a patio lounge-sofa and a custom-made fire pit.
I had built the pit out of lava rock and fire glass and constructed it to resemble a dragon’s head aimed at the sky. When fire burned inside the pit, it appeared the dragon was spitting flames.
No one, other than my brother on rare occasions, had the ability to make me smile, so when Desiree made me smile earlier, it felt foreign, like my face had trouble remembering which way to position my lips. I’d not smiled so much in anyone’s presence as hers. She had dragged the reaction from me several times in only a few hours. She had unknowingly given me purpose. It didn’t matter that that purpose was to be her temporary protection.
She was so caught up in the view, it appeared she floated towards the closed balcony doors. She breezed past the indoor seat; the only piece of furniture sitting in the space and reached blindly for the door in front of her. Her slippers tapped lightly against the floor; the sound echoed off the glass making her steps sound louder than they were.