Pure Illusion (3 page)

Not Quite Good Enough

Sore
and drowsy and disorientated, my eyelids slowly flutter open. The room is dark,
except for the soft light of the TV. I’m still in Hunter’s bed, wrapped in a
bundle of sheets. I’m so warm and comfortable, cozier than I have the right to
be.

Hunter’s
hand lovingly sifts through my hair while his other one feeds a slice of meaty
pizza to his mouth. His eyes are glued to the TV, the cool glow highlighting
his flawlessly handsome face. But the television is muted.

Amazed
and fascinated at watching him eat and play in my hair, I openly stare at him,
completely dazed.

He
snorts, amused by something happening on the screen, and then takes a huge
chunk from the pizza. Hunter chews and swallows; the muscles in his jaw and
neck elegantly moving in unison. I never noticed his neck before, but damn it,
he has one hell of a neck. It’s not too thin and not too thick. It’s a perfect
combination between the two. 

His
fingers lightly massage my scalp and a small whimper passes through my lips.
Unable to turn away, I stare all wide-eyed and nervous into his eyes that drift
down to me. He flashes me white teeth.
All smiles.
“Hey, sleepy head.
Are you hungry?”

Speechless,
I only nod.

“Thirsty too?”

I
nod again.

The
hand holding his bitten pizza comes to my mouth and he starts to feed me
through woeful sobs and desperate protests. “I can’t do this, Hunter.”

He
slings the half eaten pizza in the large grease-spotted takeout box that sits
wide open on the nightstand beside him. Hunter swiftly shifts between my legs,
dips his head down so that his lips are just above mine.

My
sobs cease as soon as I look into his strong almost violent gaze, which is
severely focused on me with a weird kind of accuracy that sends goose-bumps
racing down the line of my spine.

I
tightly grip the sheets underneath me and tilt my head to the side. My brows
snap together, confused.

He
cocks his head, mimicking my action, the intensive, feral gleam in his eyes
still present.

My
chest begins to rise and fall rapidly. The panic is building again.

That expression.

Those eyes.

I’m
completely overwhelmed.

“Hunter…?”

He
slams his mouth down on mine, not allowing me to finish my sentence. Vivid
colors burst behind my closed lids and an emotion as powerful as love, as irresistible
as lust surges through my veins.

My
hands curl in his silky hair, instantly loving the feel.

Oh
God.

It’s
so soft and smooth.

The
tears stop only for begging to take its place. “Please,” I whisper softly.

His
chest rumbles with a deep guttural groan, and then he drags his tongue over my
bottom lip. Hunter shuts his eyes and presses his forehead to mine, breathing
heavily.

I
release the sheets and fist my hands in the sides of his shirt, wrapping my
legs around his hips. He’s really, very hard and enormous. The heat of his
erection warms me through the thin fabric of his pants. He must want this as
much I as I do…or at least a little.

I’ve
wanted Hunter Knight since the third grade, since I was six and truly learned
the true definition of love. It’s been so long. This all seems like an
unattainable dream that I’m living. He’s been so far out of my reach, now I’m
in my bra and panties in
his
bed.  

His
hand roughly cups me between my legs. I inhale sharply and shudder against him.
“I can feel you getting wet, Isabel. I can smell you, baby,” he murmurs
sinisterly.

My hands spasm in his golden hair,
tugging the silky strands by the roots, and he growls, low and primal.

“Please,”
I beg, frantically. “Please, Hunter. I need you.”

His
eyelids fly open and the expression on his face changes from crazed predator to
angry astonishment and disgust. He releases a frustrated sigh,
then
rolls off me. “I can’t.”

My
head swims with rejection, but before I can say how much I wish I hated him, my
phone rings and the sound is coming from his pocket. I wouldn’t care so much
that he has my phone but that ringtone is a customized one. It’s Falcon’s
ringtone. After Falcon found me in the stall crying my heart out, he and I
started a friendship, that friendship bloomed into more. Once Hunter knew, he
cut Falcon out his life as well. Cold turkey, like he did me. Falcon and I
dated all throughout high school. He was my second love but my first everything
else. I gave my virginity to Falcon. I loved Falcon and still do. I decided to
end things because he was going to an art college in Tokyo and I was going to
University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Three weeks ago he came to Tyler’s
funeral and wanted to stay with me, but I convinced him to go back to Japan.
Falcon had exams and needed to get back to school, to his new life. I told him
goodbye forever without ever giving him a chance to say his farewell.

Hunter
pulls the phone from his pocket and answers it. “What?” He holds my eyes the
entire time. “You fucked up, Falcon. She’s with me.” Then a pause and an
exasperated sigh. “Save your excuses. I gotta go. Later.” He ends the call,
tucking my cell back in his jean pocket, his blue eyes penetrating through me.

“Don’t,”
I whisper.

His
brows frown in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t
what?”

“Don’t
make me love you.”

His
head jerks back, forehead creases with wrinkles. An emotion I would describe as
pain or hurt flashes in his stunning eyes, but that’d be wrong, of course. In
order to feel pain, to feel anything, he would need to care. He doesn’t care at
all. Hunter smiles so big it’s blinding. “I don’t want to make you love me,
Isabel, but it’s apparent. You already do. But try to understand this with
absolute clarity, I can’t love you. I don’t want to love you, not in the way
you want me to love you. It makes me sick to even think about it. Not good
enough. Not good enough for anyone.”

His
words are like a bullet to the heart.

I’m
not good enough.

I’d
burst into tears if I wasn’t so numb.

Instead,
I drag my shirt over my head and throw off my bra and rest of my clothes.

“What
are you doing, Isabel?”

Ignoring
him, I wander out the bed and head into his bathroom. I need a shower. I smell
of him too much. It’s causing my stomach to hurt and chest ache, that’s not such
a good sign because I don’t want to feel anything.

He
roughly grabs my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt. “You have that empty
look in your eyes again.”

“Shower.
I need to
shower,” I mumble.

His
fingers tighten on my elbow.

I
would wince if the pain didn’t feel so good.

“I
need to shower,” I repeat.

He
takes a step back and releases me but follows me into the bathroom. He turns on
the water as I step into the glass shower. I sink down to the heated tile floor
and pull my knees up to my chest. My dark hair clings to my back as the warm
rain streams down my body. I am unaware if Hunter leaves or stays. All I know
is that I’m shutting the entire world out.

Sleeping Beauty

“Falcon
is coming,” Hunter says quietly. It’s only been two days since he said those
horrible things to me.

Not
good enough.

“Did
you hear me?” he asks.

Not
good enough for anyone.

I
simply nod.

“He’s
going to try to take you away from me, but I won’t let him. I’m not through
with you.”

I
nod again, though I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He’s
not through torturing me yet?

“Sleepy,”
I whisper.

He
gives a slight nod,
then
slides behind me in bed,
circling his arms around by belly, forming his front to my back. I wish the
smell of him made me want to vomit, but it doesn’t. I love the smell of him.
I’ve always loved the smell of him.

“You
remember when we had sleepovers when we were kids? I always slept in your bed.
Your parents thought it was all innocent, but we were learning how to kiss. You
told me all the places you wanted me to kiss you when we got really good at it.
Remember?”

My
body jerks and then stiffens.

I
remember.

I
remember everything.

“When
I kissed you right behind your ear, you always trembled,” he whispers, nuzzling
his nose in my hair. “Do you still like that?”

Please
don’t.

His
nose begins to trail down my hair,
then
his lips shift
to the back of my ear. His warm and wet tongue presses in on the erratic pulse
and nips me there.

 I
shiver and whimper, trying to scoot away from him, but he holds me tighter
against his body.

“Yeah,”
he declares smugly, “you still like that.”

“Sleepy,”
I reply breathy.

“Sleep,
then.”

Hunter

Hunter
wakes in the middle of the night. He glances at his digital clock. 1:00 A.M.
His head rests on the cool feather-filled pillows. Isabel is still tucked under
his body. Her eyes are closed and she is still breathing.

Thank
fuck.

She’s
breathing.

“Isabel?”
he whispers.

“Mmmm?”

“You’re
beautiful.”

“I
don’t exist,” she mumbles still asleep.

Hunter
Knight knows Isabel responds in her sleep. The weirdest part is that she always
answered honestly but her responses are riddles. He could ask her anything he
wants to know and she’d reveal every single secret she kept hidden, except he’d
have to decipher her low-key confesses into his own interpretation of her
truth, his truth.

“Are
you going to live for me?” he asks softly.

She
grumbles incoherent things, then she takes a deep breath through her nose and
let’s it out in a small whisper. “If you look close enough, you can see it
cracking. If you listen intently, you can hear it breaking. If you touch it,
you’ll get cut. There are so many pieces, too many sharp pieces.”

Intrigued,
he inclines closer, holding her tight. “Pieces of what, baby?”

“Pieces.”

“Pieces?”

“Mmmm. Fragments.”

Without
realizing, his hands violently squeeze her hips.

She
whimpers in pain.

 He
loosens his grip but continues to holds her firmly, “I want you to live,
Isabel. Live for me.”

She
whines in discomfort and attempts to move away from him but he holds her
tighter against his body. His dick twitches. He’s getting aroused by her moans
of distress, not to mention her soft body pressed into his.

Shit!

Even
in this weak and broken stage, Isabel is still the sexist woman he’d ever seen.
Her twinkling hazel green eyes that used to get so wide with wonder and awe
every time she stared at him makes his heart pound heavier than anything else
ever could. Her smooth, flawless pale, almost translucent brown skin always
made him sick with desire. The scent of her: a wild and intoxicating mix of
dark berries makes his head heady with a simple whiff. He knows her fragrant so
well that he could blindly find her in the dark by her scent alone. But her
long hair, dark silk, is his favorite. It frames not only her face but also her
body, which has become very thin and frail due to stress and depression.

He
loves her hair.

He
always had.  

“I’m
dying, Hunter. I’m dying a million deaths,” she wails softly.

“No,
you’re not—” she wiggles and he drops his arms from around her and she rolls
over to face him, still asleep “—you look pretty alive to me.”

She
grunts when his heavy arms settle back around her middle. “I’m invisible to
you.”

“Yeah,
you are,” he confirms. “That’s exactly what I need you to be.”

She
begins to make sniffling noises, on the verge of tears.

Jesus,
she cries in her sleep too.

“Hush,
Isabel,” he orders sternly, watching her bottom lip cease from quivering.

So responsive.

He
likes that.

“Blinded first by the beauty that killed
her.
Invisible.
Someday you’ll fall in love with me.” she
mumbles.

He
doesn’t know why, but he smiles.

His
smile is massively huge.

In
fact, his smile is not the friendly or inviting kind at all.

His
smile is darker, sinister,
more
deadly than that.

Without
needing to respond, he nuzzles his face in her nest of silk, hiding his lethal
smile.