CHAPTER 6: "USE ME. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ..."

Amber

I slammed the empty shot glass on the counter and yelled at the bartender like a bridezilla, “ANOTHER ONE!” 

Eva was doing her exasperated eye-roll when her margarita paused at her lips. “I swear, I didn’t know he’d be here.” 

The fresh shot of Vodka paused impatiently at my lips. “Who?”

And she pretended to take a sip. “Nine o’clock. Coming fast—.”

I emptied the fresh shot of Vodka then turned to my left, and came face to face with Ethan Greenwell. 

Even in the dim lights, his handsome smile radiated the warmth of a guy who’d never finger another woman in front of the one he’d just slept with, especially not one whose virginity he’d just taken. 

I should’ve just lost my V-card to Ethan Greenwell. 

“Hey,“ he opened casually, “wasn’t expecting to bump into you here.”

I forced a cordial smile before lifting the empty shot glass at the bartender for the tenth round. 

“And you look more beautiful each time we meet.” He was talking louder than usual to get over the pumping music in the background. 

And I chuckled, reaching for my latest refill. 

“Are you two alone?” He noticed Eva and gave her hello-nod. 

I glanced back at my girl—our gazes met and concurred—and turned back to our unexpected encounter with a truthful nod. 

Then, I downed the Vodka and slammed the glass on the bar, my eyes squeezed tight, the flaming liquid burning down my throat, dragging my pathetic sadness along with it. 

I reopened my eyes, and the popular quarterback was gazing at me with almost heart-shaped eyes. 

And the lights chose this moment to grow dimmer, as though it was planned.  

Then, the music softened, and I let Ethan hold my gaze as he reached out to tuck a fallen strand behind my ear. 

Don’t know why. 

Perhaps, I should let him in. You know, to get over a heartache. That’s the best way, isn’t it? 

“Do you come here often?” he asked. 

“No.” I raised my empty shot glass to ask for a refill. “You?”

He chuckled, checking behind him. 

“Nah, my high school best friend’s having a birthday celebration here.” 

“That’s nice,” I replied, caring more about what’s going into my mouth than what’s coming out of it. “Shall I wish him a happy birthday too?” 

God, I so dumb and lame, I should just shut up. 

No wonder Hunter doesn’t give a shit about me. Why would he even get excited over a dumb and lame girl who reads as much as he fucks? 

But Ethan had stopped smiling. 

When I caught his frown, he hastily looked back over his shoulder and returned to me with a smile, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. 

“I’d rather you not.” 

And my heart gripped. 

He’s jealous. 

Ethan Greenwell loves me that much. He doesn’t want me talking to his friend—or any other guy—simply because he can’t run the risk of me falling for someone else. He wants me to fall in love with him. 

And this is what a guy looks like when he wants you, badly enough. 

And Hunter doesn’t want me. Not at all. 

If I hadn’t seduced him, forced him to sleep with me, threatened him with my safety knowing that he’d do anything to keep me safe out of his promise to my father, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye—. 

Fuck. This sucks. 

I emptied my drink in a gulp and grabbed Ethan’s hand. 

“Wanna dance?” I flashed my brightest smile to hide the tears that were stinging the back of my eyes. 

He was astonished. “Are you sure?” 

I had been rejecting him so openly. So why am I doing this? 

Honestly, I was in no mood for explanations. 

We arrived under the romantic glow, and the good guy he is was still immobilised and speechless. 

So I pressed both his hands to my waist and rested my own on his shoulders, then beamed sweetly at his gaping mouth and swayed to the music.   

He couldn’t take his eyes off me, his throat bobbing nervously. 

“Jeez,” he finally chuckled at his feet, his nice cheeks tinted, “I’m so nervous around you. You have no idea.” 

And that slapped me in the face. 

What am I doing? 

This guy has been nothing but nice and respectful to me, and I’m leading him on when I’ve clearly friend-zoned him. What the hell was I thinking?! If this goes any further, I’d just be hurting him. 

I stopped dancing and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. This is my fault.”

He caught my wrist to stop me from leaving. “Amber, what’s wrong?” 

And I tried to rub off his grasp, the shame burning my face. 

“Nothing. I just—this is a mistake.”

But he swiftly cut in. “Try me out.” His hand on my back nudged me closer so that his body heat enveloped me like an affectionate hug. “Use me. Do whatever you want with me.” 

This time, I saw myself in him. 

And suddenly, I wanted to feel as Hunter had felt that night.  

“Kiss me then.” I held his gaze. 

And he blinked a few times.  

Then, he bent over slightly, his face angled perfectly, and took my lips. 

Hunter kisses like a criminal defence lawyer. Every move is calculated to surprise me, then keep me guessing, eager and hungrier for more. He knows the exact timing and the right amount of pressure to suck and stroke. 

But Ethan’s kisses are… like the classic Coke. Sweet, refreshing, giving you all the goodness of a romantic kiss and holding back nothing. 

He sucked my lips gently at first, tasting cautiously. 

But then, I grabbed his ears and yanked his face down, and my tongue swept in, just as I had stripped naked in Hunter’s room and laid my body on his bed for him to take. 

And Ethan jolted in surprise. He tore his mouth away, wanting to check on me, but was barely able to get “Amber” out before I resettled my mouth onto his. 

This time, I clutched him closer so there was no gap for confusion. 

My tongue rubbed his fiercely, urging him to do the same, but he slowed me down instead, his caresses the tenderness of a green flag boyfriend.

And more tears scalded the back of my eyes. 

Why isn’t Hunter like this? Why can’t Hunter love me back? 

Why didn’t I fall for this guy instead? Why can’t I love him? Should I just take him then, even without the love? He gave permission, didn’t he? I could use him anyway I want—. 

No. That’s not me. 

And I broke off the kiss. 

“I can’t do this.” My voice was shaking with remorse. 

He tipped my chin so that our eyes met, which made things worse because now I was more sure than ever that there’s no spark between us—and there will never be any. 

“Can’t do what?” 

He flashed his signature warm smile. He was breathless and yet that flattery didn’t make me feel any better. 

“I can’t use you, Ethan. You deserve something better.” 

His thumb brushed across my lower lip, his gaze focused. 

“Yes, I do. And I deserve you.”

I brushed his hand away. 

“I’m not good for you! Don’t you get it?” 

And he laughed. “You don’t know that. We haven’t even started on anything yet.” 

“I just do, okay?” A tear finally fell. “And you need to stay as far away from me as possible,” I sniffed. “Please, Ethan.” 

“I can’t do that, Amber,” he whispered softly as he wrapped his arms around me. “So you’re gonna have to be the one to push me away.” 

He was now swaying us to the music because I was already crying hard in his arms. 

“Until you push me away,” he muttered, “I’ll be where you need me.” 

I should push him away. I really should. But I really need to forget Hunter. And Ethan’s the answer.

If I tried to love Ethan for the next ten years, then my ten years of love for Hunter would be erased. 

Or why else did the Goddess send him in my way?

******

Under Eva’s watchful—warning—gaze, I got into the passenger's seat of Ethan’s Mazda 3 to be whisked home.

”I have to warn you first,” I hugged the seatbelt to ease the ominous feeling in my chest, “my family aren’t exactly the talking type.” 

Ethan laughed lightly. “Not hard to imagine.” 

“You know?”   

He turned the wheel and the car made a clean right turn out of the city. 

“I’m not the kind who jumps into something without thinking first. So, yes, I do know a lot about you, Amber.” 

He flashed a proud grin at me before returning to the road head. 

I crossed my arms, the same proud grin on my face, contesting his. 

“How much do you know?” 

“As much as the internet.” His other hand grabbed the steering wheel and clutched hard, as though he was keeping them there on purpose. “Okay, I lied.”

And I laughed, genuinely. 

“The internet has everything about the Blood Moon Pack and your father. But there was nothing about you.” He frowned. “You don’t have much of a social presence, do you?” 

I shrugged. “Pack’s rules.” I stared ahead, recalling all the times—my entire childhood in fact—that I had spent outside the virtual world. 

Hunter sure kept me busy to stay away long enough—.

Shit, stop it! Stop thinking of him, Amber Kratos! 

I turned to Ethan with a bright smile. “Maybe I should set up an account. Eva will be my first friend. And you’ll be my second—-.” 

“Nah.” His grasp on the wheel tightened. “I don’t want to be your friend, Amber. And I’ll remind you each time I have to.” 

“Jeez,” I scoffed, “with that persistence you must’ve really ace all the modules.” 

He chuckled. “Told you, you’re worth it.” 

“Fine, fine.” I flipped my heated cheek and checked the dimmed scenery outside my window. 

The line of pine trees, which runs for four miles, will end with the iron gates to the Blood Moon Mansion—the ocean of my sorrow. 

And I decided to enjoy the peaceful moment while it lasts. 

“What do you want to know about me then?” I faced the driver, who nearly lost control of his grip. 

“You mean it?” 

“Ask away.” 

And so he asked about my favourites: book, snack, dip, show, sports—anything that came to his mind. 

And the more I answered, the more I talked about myself, the weirder it felt. 

I realised that I don’t really talk about my favourite things at home because…well, everyone knows what I like and don't like.

Everyone, including, of course, Hunter. 

And all of a sudden, the car came to an instant stop. 

“Shit!” Ethan’s arm was already out like a guardrail keeping me safe in my seat. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” I huffed, my shocked heart started beating again. ”W–what happened? Why did you—?” 

“I’ve no idea,” Ethan murmured, his gaze ahead, squinting with surprise. 

I was squinting too because eight headlights were flashing right at us—a beacon of bright light from a fucking lighthouse, as intense as a police interrogation. 

And the silhouette in the middle, as glaring as the confrontational spotlight put on us, was none other than the angel of Ethan’s new hell: my father’s sharpest blade. 

Hunter Black. 

In all his silver-white perfection and casual darkness. 

And he looked extremely pissed. 

“Do you know them?” Asked Ethan. 

It was then I saw the others—half of the clan—all Hunter’s men—equally guarding, equally pissed, standing behind him, ready for an attack.  

And my own anger skyrocketed. 

“Yes,” I growled, “that’s my step-uncle.”