Cursed by Desire

Chapter 2: Tears

Leila’s POV:

Despite being well over five floors up, the fall after Axal threw me out of the window seems over in the blink of an eye. But the pain remains. Jagged and deep, the irregular wounds covering my body throb in time with my heartbeat and make the world spin dizzily in circles. What happened? Where do I go? I can’t seem to think beyond the here and now. A feeling that is strengthened when I hear footsteps inside descending.

Not wanting to face another confrontation with Axal after being thrown out of the window, I struggle to haul myself to my feet and hunt around for my backpack where I had heard it land in the grassy area surrounding the back of the packhouse. Eventually finding it on its side, I groaned internally when I realized that the impact from the fall had damaged the already broken zipper even more than before. The result was that my books had spilled out over the grass and I could see my phone, face down, a few meters away from where it had been flung from the backpack after the fall. Struggling to my feet fully, I gather what I can find of my possessions and pull my jacket tighter around myself in an attempt to hide the wounds underneath.

Hobbling behind a low grassy knoll that backs onto a larger hill before the forest proper begins, I huddle under a large cedar tree and wait until the figure comes into view. As I suspected, Axal’s dark golden-brown head comes into view and I can hear him laughing. Next to him, I can see the auburn head of Belvine Louve the official pack slut. And I call her that, since it’s no secret that she’s screwed over half of them yet somehow remains in higher regard than me - someone forced into it. Perhaps that’s why their horrific name stuck. Because I was not a willing participant. But that doesn’t matter. Popular and shallow, Belvine is notorious for starting fights and spreading rumors - most of which were, sadly but not surprisingly, about me. And what I had been doing (not.)

“Did you see her this morning babe?” Belvine’s high, falsetto voice grates on my already sore eardrums and has Luna stir from where she’d gone quiet after the fall into a low growl that rippled through her mind. Peeking over the very top of the grassy knoll, I can see she’s hanging onto him and flaunting herself at all the male wolves around them despite the rumor that she and Axal are together. Classic slut behavior if you ask me. Which, of course, no one does, I think sadly. Sighing to myself, I see him whisper something in her ear, and she laughs, pressing herself even closer towards him in a public display that I can’t watch. Sickened by the behavior.

“She won’t be causing trouble for a while since I threw her out the window,” Axal sounds proud of his attack on me, and it makes something sour curdle inside me. When they keep laughing - the way the whole pack does when I’m abused - I feel my stomach twist in agony, and I retch silently into the nearby grass, the acidic scent only causing me to feel even more nauseous, so I’m forced to back away from the puke spot, wiping my mouth with a shaky hand as I do so. “I wouldn’t expect to see her around for a few hours at least until she’s healed enough to move,” He sounds smug, and I feel the familiar company of fear twist itself under my breastbone and remain there. “In fact, I’m surprised she’s even alive at all judging by the window I threw her out of.”

Peering at the gathered group, I can see he’s pointing up, and I force myself to crane my neck back to look up, ignoring the dizzying feeling of vertigo that accompanies the action. When I look up, I can see the small window that signifies my attic room, but underneath, about three floors down from that, I see a single open window and guess that’s where he threw me out of earlier. f**k. If he did throw me that far out the window, then how am I still alive? Even with my Moonblood perks.

Your gift Leila. Luna’s voice sounds in my head, accompanied by the scent of winter pine and cedar - a scent I know is ours. I sigh but don’t immediately respond to Luna’s comment - not sure, still, about my standing regarding this ‘gift’ I supposedly had - have. It makes you special. Special to Lunae that you can do that. I can hear Luna trying to convince me, but it doesn't work. You must be special to be given this gift and the abilities you have with memory.

Abilities with memory. That’s what my parents called it when I stumbled into their room not long after Corbi and I shifted for the first time and I asked them why I could see into people’s minds - memories to be exact. Being a Moonblood by birth means that I should have been gifted with some sort of extra gift, but for female wolves, it was usually something plant or healing related. Something that could be used to help care for the pack since that was one of their primary jobs. Male wolves had things like strength, stamina or stealth - battle advantages for protection. But my ability with memory wasn’t something my parents had ever heard of being gifted to a wolf Moonblood or otherwise. They said that gifts like that were normally found amongst other creatures - such as vampires. Our enemy.

So why could I do it?

Luna huffs at me, whining slightly. It’s because of your GIFT! I get the sense my wolf is yelling the last word at me, but it doesn’t help me with understanding what any of this means any more than if Lunae herself dropped out of the sky and explained it to me. Well, actually that would probably solve my issue, but never mind that. Just accept it, Lei, you're special. Luna sounds angry and I don’t blame her. I mean what wolf, in their right mind, would want to be stuck with a miserable, depressed person like me? Seriously?

A noise to my left startles me and I focus back on the group. Ho-ish slut Belvine is still pressing herself against Axal with way too much s****l tension being evident even to me across the meadow, but I can hear that others have turned up. Amongst the new crowd is Axal’s sister Faline, her ashy blonde hair and electric blue eyes easily found amongst the crowd. “Ready yet?” Being head cheerleader and our resident drama queen, she manages to draw the words out enough that it makes every male’s head turn towards her like flowers trying to find the light. Next to her, I can see the darker profile of Christian Jasper, his unusual violet eyes standing out.

Averting my eyes at the last minute, I scold myself for looking too long - knowing the punishment if I was caught looking at any wolf in the pack with even faintly lustful thoughts. Twisting my position, so they are completely hidden from view, I keep quiet and hope that none of them spot me. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling a strange pull to do just that. To keep looking. But why? I even start to feel Luna stir - not knowing why - but before we have a chance to communicate with each other, I hear a car door slam and hold my breath. The sounds of idle teenage chatter fade and are replaced by the sound of birds chirping and the soft breeze blowing across the field, carrying with it the last few fading scents of autumn as it slides into winter.

Hauling myself to my feet when I’m sure I’m alone out here, I cram the rest of my stuff - that which I could recover - into my backpack and haul it over my shoulder, ignoring the fiery lash of pain that spreads down my back at the action. Pain grips my whole body, but I can’t bring myself to go back towards the packhouse - too afraid of whoever may be left inside, since I have a feeling that both my brothers and Lux are already at school. So can’t help me. Following a well-worn path towards the forest, I walk blindly until I come to hear the sound of rushing water. Letting it lead me, I stop when I come face to face with a stream.

Racing fast, it bubbles away from me and I hear a sigh escape me when I come face to face with the river - more of a river than a stream to be honest - that I know like the back of my hand. Including all its currents. Surrounded by lush vegetation, I know no one else has found it since it looks the same as it always does, inviting and homely. On weary legs, I drop to my knees to study my reflection on its crystalline surface and am shocked. More than I should have been given my lifestyle.

But something about this time I look at my eyes leaves me feeling harrowed. Haunted blue eyes that once resembled a summer sky peer back at me tiredly, their color diminished, so it looks more washed out. A watercolor comparison to what had previously been oil painting colors. Being naturally fair, my usually rose-tinted skin looks sallow and pale in the sunlight filtering down through the broad boughs of the trees sheltering me from the rest of the world. But it’s the expression that frightens me the most. The girl looking back at me surely can’t be me. She looks so lost, so defeated that I can’t possibly look like that.

Like I’d given up all hope.