That kiss meant nothing

“Come on, your dumb ass shit!” Jake yelled. “One more,” he said, and with every one of my strengths, I pushed myself up and then collapsed onto the grass. Jake made no move to help me up; instead, he circled me and scowled.

“You are fucking weak,” he said, and I scowled at him. He grabbed my arms and roughly forced me to sit. I smacked away at his hand, and he growled angrily.

“Don’t ever touch me,” I snapped, and he nodded.

“Good, I want you to be angry. Now channel that rage at me and think of everything you hate about me. Our power is mostly at its peak when we are in rage. Now punch me,” he said, and I hesitated, even though I probably detested him. For some reason, I didn’t want to punch him.

“Come on, don’t be such a wimp, you idiot,” he said, and I scowled and charged for him. I punched him right in the face, and he stood there and took it without blinking, bleeding from the mouth. He threw back his head and laughed, then grinned at me.

“That isn’t a punch; it’s more like a caress,” he said, smiling. For a moment, I was stunned. He looked so handsome that I couldn’t breathe; he caught me staring and scowled.

“Give me a real punch,” he said, and now I didn’t want to punch him again.

"No," I replied, and he frowned. He walked menacingly and grabbed my hair. “You better punch me, or...” He left that statement hanging and released my hair. I glared at him, breathing hard as rage filled me. How dare he grab my hair? I ran at him full speed and smashed my fist into his face. His head snapped to the side, and he turned smiling as blood poured from his nose, and I suddenly felt guilty.

“I am so sorry,” I said, and I tore a portion of my shirt and pressed it against his nose, staunching the blood. He stared at me strangely. 

“Are you helping me?” He teased, “Me, an evil monster," and I rolled my eyes and threw away the bloody cloth. I tried to tear another fabric, but he stopped me.

“It’s fine. I will heal,” he said, his green eyes studying me intently. “Thank you,” he said, and I nodded, feeling like something just grew between us. He opened his bag and tossed me a can of soda.

“Drink up,” he said, and I nodded, popped the can, and drank greedily. I was really thirsty, and he seemed to know it. He sat on a bench and stared ahead, and I suddenly wanted to be nice; maybe he wasn’t really a monster.

“Can I sit down?” I asked, and as usual, he didn’t answer, so I just sat down. He stared at me; his green eyes were unreadable.

“Why do you just kill, like that? I mean, brutally, can’t you do it normally?” I asked, and he stared at me as if I were a kid.

“Kill normally?” He barked out a laugh. “A kill is a kill; it doesn’t matter how it’s done,” he said, and I shook my head.

“I have seen you kill; you do it for the fun of it,” I said, and he smiled.

“Yes. I enjoy killing, but it’s only those that I consider my enemies,” he glared at me.

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be; your brother kills his enemies too, and I am sure he doesn’t kill for fun,” I said, and Jake chuckled.

“Is that what he told you?” He asked, and I shrugged.

“I can tell,” I said, and Jake smiled a tight smile.

“Of course, John is always the good one; I am the monster,” he said sarcastically, and he extended his claws. I stared in fascination; they looked wickedly curved and sharp.

“You are the one who kills for fun,” I said, and he pursed his lips and nodded.

“That’s why he’s so weak; I am stronger, and I am no softie,” he said.

“What of your mother, was she like you?” I asked, and he froze. His green eyes darkened in hate and anger.

"Don't,” he warned, and I stared at him, surprised for a moment. His face was sad and full of grief. 

“I am sorry,” I said, and he nodded. He stood and grabbed another soda and drank it all in one gulp.

"The resting time is over,” he snapped. “Here, bring your hand,” he said. I offered my hand, and he held it and wrapped black leather around my palm. I stared at him as he wrapped the other hand, and I smiled.

“Thank you,” I said, and he nodded. He picked a stance, and I followed his steps.

“Your wolf is dormant; she needs her soulmate to awaken her, but in the meantime, we have not found your soulmate, and it’s certainly not John,” he said snidely, and I glared at him.

“We need a trigger, something that will awaken her, maybe briefly,” he said, pulling out a dagger, and I backed away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and he stepped closer, holding the knife in front of him.

“Scaring you,” he answered honestly, and I stepped back.

“Are you gonna stab me?” I asked, and he smiled cruelly.

“Yes” he said, and I backed away.

“You can’t do that, I will call John." I threatened, but he didn’t even look fazed.

“John can’t stop me,” he said, then he grabbed me and shoved the handle of the knife into my palm, and I stared at him in surprise. 

“You didn’t stab me,” I said, and he raised a brow.

“You want me to?” He asked, and I shook my head. He smiled smugly. “Good, now stab yourself in the shoulder,” he said, and my eyes widened. Stab myself? He was definitely crazy.

“Wh..why?” I asked, and he scoffed and folded his arms.

“Don’t be a chicken; werewolf abilities are sometimes triggered by pain. So I guess we have to find out,” he said, and I shook my head.

“I can’t; you do it,” I said, and the corner of his lips lifted in a smile.

“With pleasure,” he said, and he grabbed the knife and stabbed me in the shoulder. I let out a howl so inhuman that I fainted.