Chapter 18: How can I explain?

Kell:

I haven’t seen Amara lately, and I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I just don’t know how to explain why I pulled away without explaining what I am. Things would be easier if I knew for certain that she was my mate. I mean, she was honest with me.

Friday night is a misery, especially when I see Carrick and Haley snuggling up in front of the television. Alex is working with Mathias at the Council, and everyone else is busy. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to cool my head at Azazel’s nightclub, Garden of Eden. The club is always happening on Friday nights, and I need some time to relax before my head explodes.

That night, I slip on a pair of black jeans, a black and a white plaid button-down. Gazing into the mirror, I roll up my sleeves, adjust the buttons on my shirt, and spray some cologne on. Tonight is going to be about having fun and forgetting.

Once I’m done, I take a deep breath and rush out the door. The club is located in the same high-rise building that Azazel lives in. The first three floors are for the club, and Azazel lives in the penthouse. The building is at least twelve stories high. Azazel has a special elevator that only leads to his personal floors. Hem and a few select friends are the only ones who have access to it.

The club is pretty cool. Like its namesake, it has a Garden of Eden theme. The dance floor has some kind of light effects that make it look like grass, and the tables look like tree stumps. The lights are low, and the atmosphere is charged with people dancing, drinking, and dallying. The DJ is in a booth near the front of the stage, surrounded by spotlights in various colors. The whole inside looks like a gothic forest.

Maxim, Azazel’s bouncer, meets me at the door. Maxim is extremely intimidating with his six-foot-seven frame and bodybuilder’s muscles. His shiny bald head, sharp nose, small eyes, and large eyebrows make him look like he’s going to tear you apart. He has this really freaky tattoo of a skeleton tattooed on the back of his head. Come to think of it, most of the guy’s body is tattooed. Well, at least the parts I can see.

“Hey Kell, what brings you by?” He pulls me into his chest and slaps me on the back.

I pull back with a chagrined smile. “I thought I’d come by to have some fun. I need to unwind.”

He shakes his head. “It has to be women's trouble. Men only want to forget or unwind when a woman’s involved.”

I scowl at his perceptive observation. “Something like that, man.”

He laughs boisterously and slaps me in the back as he ushers me into the club’s door. “Go right in, kid. But remember, you can’t find your solution at the bottom of a bottle.”

Scoffing at his remark, I shake my head and walk inside.

The noise in the club is almost deafening. People greet me as I walk in. I shake hands and wave as I make my way to the bamboo bar and take a seat on a nearby stool. Charlie, one of Azazel’s bartenders, gives me a welcoming smile.

Charlie is a gorgeous blonde with cornflower blue eyes, a small button nose, pouty lips, and legs that never end. However, that’s not the most poignant part of her. Her large, enhanced breasts definitely take center stage. She has expressed an interest in me before, but I could never reciprocate. I guess my beauty queen is the only girl that I want.

Charlie leans across the bar, emphasizing her large cleavage, which is being held together by a tight red string cropped halter top. “Hey handsome, what brings you by?”

I smile back but maintain a respectful distance from the bar. “Hey, Charlie. I just came to see Azazel. Is he in?” She gives me a sad look and pouts. “Aw, I thought you came to see me.”

I’m about to reply when Azazel walks up to the bar and pats my shoulder. I turn to face him, unsurprised to see that he’s in a black tank top and black leather pants. I say unsurprised because that’s his usual uniform. I can’t help but chuckle when I hear a few women visibly sigh. The dim light of the club reflects through his golden hair, making him look mysterious. Freaking pretty boy!

“Well, if it isn’t Kell Cross. Here to get blathered, mate? I wouldn’t recommend it, considering Alex almost kicked my arse for letting you go on a bender.”

I smirk, remembering how pissed Alex got when he found me passed out drunk on the front porch a couple of months ago. “I’m not here to get drunk. I promise.” I say, placing my palm over my heart.

Azazel narrows his eyes then gestures to Charlie for a drink before he asks. “Then what are you doing here, boy?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s Friday night, and I wanted to get out and have some fun. Is there a problem with that?”

Chuckling, he gives me a shrewd grin. “Bugger that, mate. You’re here because you want to distract yourself from what you really want.”

He points an index finger near my face. “You know you and Mikhail are very much alike, considering you’re not real brothers. He also nearly botched his feelings for Nevaeh. You know what you need to do?” He asks.

Sighing with frustration, I shrug my shoulders. “No, what do I need to do?”

He points his fingers at the front door and leans close, “You need to cock up and tell your love everything. That way, you can get into her knickers and find some sense of peace.”

I lean my elbows on the bar, place my hand on my fists, and stare straight ahead. “What if she’s not my mate?”

He shrugs. “That’s rubbish, mate. You’ll never know unless you ask. At least if you ask, and she tells you, she can put you out of your misery, you bloody sod. And if you are, you can revel in the smashing news. Trust me, betting shitfaced won’t help.”

I think about his words for a moment, then come to a decision. Rising from my seat, I pat Azazel on the shoulder and mutter. “You’re right, I’m going to see her.”

He gives me a wistful smile and salutes me with his drink. “Good luck.”

Stepping out of the club, I make my way to my car. I can’t help but think about what I’m going to do. As I drive up to my hill, I take a couple of moments to contemplate my options. Even though Azazel’s advice is useful, I can’t help but feel trepidation build in my stomach. As if certain of what I should do, my wings strain for release. I don’t think as I unbutton my shirt and remove it. My wings expand behind my back, flexing and fluttering with relief. It’s been difficult to contain my wings lately. I guess if I had to describe it, I would say it feels like if you had your hands tied behind your back and then you release them. Imagine the relief you feel when you allow your muscles to stretch? That’s how it feels for me.

I flutter them behind me, again, feeling the bones stretch and relax before I take off into the night sky. For the next twenty minutes, I make a few turns and let the air rush through my feathers as I lift my face to the moonlight. It’s so peaceful up here. There’s time to think, contemplate and just be yourself without judgment.

It doesn’t take me long to get to Amara’s home. Her car is parked in the driveway, and the lights are on in the house. The house seems quiet and foreboding because of its size. I Flying over the roof, I land on the roof near her window. The sheer curtains are open, and a light shines brightly, which makes it easy for me to see through her window.

As carefully as I can, I move closer and look inside. It takes me a moment to spot Amara. She’s strolling around the room in a really hot dress. The dress is what Nevaeh calls mermaid style. Yeah, I know way too much about girl fashion, thanks to Neveah. Amara twirls around and twists from side to side. I can see bits of skin through the nearly transparent black lace dress due to the plunging neckline that shows a little too much of her chest.

At first, I wonder if she’s preparing to go out. But then, I notice that she’s talking to someone. Whoever it is must be pissing her off because she’s scowling and flaying her arms around reproachfully. I nearly fall off the roof when her mother passes by the window. Before she can see me, I duck near the windowsill and blend into the shadows. Their conversation reaches me a few moments later.

I don’t know about this dress Jordana. The neckline is too low. You can almost see my belly button.”

I sneak a peek as she gestures to her chest. Amara is facing her mother, who has her back to the window. I observe as her mother places her hands on her hips and moves closer. “Nonsense! The dress is fine. It looks excellent on you. Now let’s get back to the matter at hand. Did you find a date or not?”

Amara crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head, looking miserable. “No,” she whispers quietly.

I almost lose it when her mother steps closer, grips her hair tightly, and pulls her head back. “Look at me when I talk to you. You know that you have to look confident at all times. Now, are you telling me you couldn’t find anyone?” Amara grits her teeth as tears gleam in her eyes. “No, I couldn’t find anyone. Happy?” Her mother smirks. “Not even that very handsome boy Kyle or Kirk something or other?”

Amara pulls away from her mother’s hold and replies, “It’s Kell, and no, he’s not going to be my date. He doesn’t like me like that.”

Her mother throws her head back and laughs venomously. “I guess that’s what you get when you give it away freely. Hopefully, you learned something from this. Boys like him only want a quick lay. And with the way he looks, he can get that from anyone.”

Amara’s stance stiffens, and her lips tremble, but she doesn’t comment. Guilt overwhelms me at the thought that Amara thinks I feel that way.

Her mother continues with her condescending tone, “Oh, does poor little Amara like the orphan boy?”

Amara shakes her head and makes a cutting gesture with her arm. “Stop it, Jordana. Just stop it! It doesn’t matter. It’s not like that, okay?”

They stand there like two angry wolves fighting for dominance. Jordana must see the futility of the conversation because she changes the subject. “Fine then, Austin, it is. Now take off the dress and give it to me so Delia can make those alterations.”

I almost swallow my tongue when Amara unzips the back of her dress and angrily and lets it fall loosely down her hips. All I can do is stand there and stare at her golden body as it is revealed in all of its perfection. Amara stands straight in her black lace panties and confidently hands the dress to her mother. My eyes run over her muscled back, flat stomach and shapely ass. She’s not self-conscious of her body like other girls. She simply remains standing while her mother fluffs out the dress and places it inside a box.

“So, the dress is done, and your date sorted out. The talent part is nearly ready, and the other outfits are completed. Everything should be ready by the evening of the pageant.”

Amara remains quiet as her mother continues with her list of instructions. It’s as if she forgot that Amara was in the room. Eventually, she takes the box and calls out from over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to review the practice questions I gave you. Now get some sleep because you’re looking ragged, and we need you to look great on pageant days. Your father and I are going to the Major’s home tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

As soon as her mother walks out of the room, Amara walks to her bed and searches for something. However, my eyes are glued to her perfectly round ass and perky breasts. My mouth waters at the thought of licking her nipples and sucking them into the cavern of my mouth.

To my regret, Amara reaches for a short red robe, slips it on, and throws herself gently on top of the bed. She looks so sad and desolate as she curls up in a protective shell. Her hair spreads wildly around her shoulders, and her body is stiff. I don’t know how, but somehow, I find the courage to knock on her window. It’s time to clear the air.