8 Paintball wars

Date = 31 October

Place = San Francisco (paintball place)

POV – Melaena

Another birthday party. Damion’s birthday. 31 October.

I wonder who will get hurt this time. At Logan’s party, all my brothers got sick from the STROH rum. But at least no one ended up in hospital.

A message comes through just as I’m tying my hair into a braid.

D Stalker: Mayday! Mayday! A little actor is dying!

I’ve changed his caller ID on my phone so I know when it’s him. I put away my phone. I’m not going to let one crazy coward ruin my life. He’s been sending me messages non-stop since that first time at Logan’s party. Mostly I just ignore them, but it’s starting to creep me out a little. He knows stuff … as if he’s watching me all the time.

However, this ‘mayday’ shit is something new. Usually, he just rants on about how I belong to him and that soon we’ll be together.

What does he mean by dying … could someone be after Enrique? Would this D guy go as far as to try and kill my brother? He did say that he wants revenge.

Nope … it must be a joke.

But I should warn Enrique just in case. And I will. I’ll tell my brothers after the party. For now, D won’t be able to get close to any of us … the event is going to be heavily guarded. This ass is not going to ruin anyone’s fun tonight.

“This overall is ridiculously unflattering!” Kiara shouts while bursting into my bedroom, pulling at the fabric of the black overall covering her body. She’s never learned the boundaries of knocking. But I’m pretty glad Kiara and I decided to share my house. I hate being alone and I feel safer with her around. Not that the complex is not secure … cause it is — very very secure. Having a high-tech-security-weapon-building business in the family has its perks.

And for some reason, Jackson got a guard to stalk me after Damion left.

But still. There’s this knot in my stomach that this D guy is not just an ordinary love-sick fan. Something bad is coming.

“I don’t think looking stylish on the paintball course was what they had in mind when they designed it,” I tease my best friend, looking down at my matching black outfit. She’s right, it’s not very flattering at all. Even my new soccer gear tops this.

“At least we’re on the same team. I can’t wait to shoot somebody in the face.” Kiara has been going through a cranky week, partly due to PMS, but mostly because her father contacted her last night. He does it once a month, and then Kiara has a mood like this for two straight days after — mainly because she wants him to be closer so she can visit more.

He and his brother are serving their sentences in the maximum security prison, United States Penitentiary in Allenwood, Pennsylvania, roughly 2700 miles from here. It’s tough on her. They’re her only blood relatives whom she gets to see once a year.

But she’s not alone … shooting someone in the face sounds rather pleasing to me too. I just wish it could be this D guy … oh, I would enjoy shooting him in the face and everywhere else it would hurt.

“Okay, let’s go meet the boys. I’ll just grab the presents.” Throwing my backpack over my shoulder I walk to the kitchen where we stashed the presents. Kiara opens the door, finding Axel standing there with his hand in the air, ready to knock.

“That’s what I call timing!” he laughs, shaking his head, eyes gleaming. Axel has the most surreal eyes, a mixed combination of green and blue. His dark hair is styled messy as usual, on purpose would be my guess. And being over six feet of rugged, lean, muscled male, with the added appeal of his job, women are lining up to date him. The only problem is — he doesn’t do relationships.

He’s dressed in black, meaning he will be on our team.

Monster Reaper organized a paintball battle (hence the overalls) and a huge costume party.

“Have you guys remembered your outfits for the party?” Axel asks. I pat my backpack.

“All set.”

“I hope it’s not going to be a paparazzi circus,” he then tops, sliding on his sunglasses. He’s not one for the cameras or the press. Not even after winning gold and two bronze at the Olympics could they get him to pose and he actually quit competitive swimming right after.

“I heard both of the events are exclusive — meaning that only one very lucky chosen newspaper boy is going to get the scoop of his life,” Kiara spills some useless information.

“Great, maybe the birthday boy can actually enjoy his party then,” Axel concludes.

“You know he’s won five in a row?” I ask eagerly. “Spain, Japan, Thailand, Australia, and lastly Malaysia. In that order.”

“He officially took back his title. It’s going to be a big celebration,” I continue while locking the door.

“You’re scaring me a little, Grimm-wiki,” Axel teases.

Darn. “Eh … I think I overheard it somewhere.”

Is it strange that I secretly watch all his races cause I don’t want anyone to know?

“You’re right. It’s big. Especially after the accident last year,” Axel sighs.

I’ll never forget that moment. He was in the middle of a terrible pile-up … someone died. It was horrifying to watch him being loaded into an ambulance. Not knowing how serious his injuries were.

Or so I heard.

“But on another note,” I chuckle, “Who’s thinking the same as me — a birthday on Halloween night? Coincidence? I don’t think so!”

My friends shake their heads and laugh.

“Oh, come on … if this doesn’t prove my theory that he’s a devil in disguise, I don’t know what will.”

“Like I said … I just desperately want to shoot someone … and I need it to hurt,” Kiara is back to her PMS self. Axel glares at her.

“Can’t we just have some fun without any incidents for once?”

“Gmf, that’s a stretch. You know you guys can’t do anything without incidents happening,” I sneer.

Naturally, this paintball shit might turn into a disaster. I mean, they’re legally packing a bunch of adrenaline-junkie small-brained male maniacs with loaded guns (though not real) and a ticket to shoot each other — so I’m not expecting it to be calm and orderly.

But I’m good with it all as long as I get to shoot the cocky devil on his perfect, smooth muscular chest. Or even better, on his manly chinny-chin-chin. I need a release for this cropped-up frustration I’ve been nurturing this last month.

First, I’m upset because of the whole curse thing — for obvious reasons. The second case would be him telling me I don’t know what I’m doing (while he’s responsible for that). It might be true, but it still hurts. Thirdly, his love declaration for some girl stabbed me right in the heart. Yeah, he said it’s not Chloe, but there still is someone. And lastly, that stunt he pulled at the rescue center numbed my brain throughout the whole class. I couldn’t take anything in and felt like an idiot.

So yeah, I would love to hurt the bastard. Seriously hurt him.

As soon as I lay my eyes on Enrique, it’s as if a cold bony hand wraps around my throat, hindering my breathing. Could the message be serious? Is D going after my brother?

He’s dressed in green, like Ilkay and Logan, but Jackson is on our side.

“Revenge is staring you in the face, girls,” Enrique comments with a BEAST smirk, pointing at me and Kiara.

I silently wonder if there’s going to be an ambulance on standby. But I know better than to show fear.

“Not if I shoot you in the balls first,” I stab back, but Enrique just winks, patting his manly parts.

“All cupped up, little witch, courtesy of Logan’s football gear.” I feel a bit disappointed, but I should have guessed all my brothers would be wise enough to use dick protectors.

We split into teams, the green team with Ilkay in his truck, while we get into Axel’s. We drive, cheerfully chatting about the game and the party, even talking strategy a bit, deciding that we will stick together, and win this thing.

The paintball place is in a wooded area with a military-training camp vibe that reminds me of some deserted town in The Walking Dead. Axel parks near a log cabin with a sign saying ‘reception’.

Ren is standing on the steps, dressed in green, talking to a curvy brunette wearing the same color. He told me he was invited — his friend’s father is one of the team sponsors.

Then I recognize the girl — Chloe. She must be the friend he was referring to.

My heart bolts. Since I can’t shoot D, I will settle for Chloe. That bitch is going down.

“What the fuck are those two doing here?” Jackson scolds while we’re walking to the cabin. He’s been in a foul mood ever since his return from Yale about a week ago.

He’s not exactly happy with the sentence the President of the United States punished him with — coaching the Bulldogs instead of jail time. But I guess it’s what you get for climbing over the White House fence, knocking out a Secret Service guard, and jumping into the pretty fountain. He can be glad Mr. President has a sense of humor and is a big Yale man.

So, each time he returns from his forced once-a-month coaching trip, he gets like this.

Uptight.

Maybe it’s because he got stuck with ‘teaching rich obnoxious jocks to pass a fucking puck’ — his exact words.

Or maybe he just didn’t get laid enough in Fun City.

Like usual, instead of talking, he’s scowling. Only this time his scowl is even darker than normal. I’m just glad he’s on our side today.

“Damion had to invite her since her father is one of the sponsors,” Logan explains. “And she brought the creep with her.” I guess that would be Ren.

“Hi, boys!” Chloe greets, her voice sounding like a call girl in the middle of phone sex. Not that I know anything about call girls … or sex … but it’s how I imagine it would sound.

Ren pulls me awkwardly into his arms and places a clumsy kiss on my cheek.

“Oh,” I squeak, not expecting it.

Axel looks annoyed. Logan looks pissed. Ilkay looks pained. Enrique looks sick. Jackson looks about to commit murder.

We haven’t been on a date since Logan’s party … not that he didn’t ask. I just haven’t had time between classes, soccer, track-and-field, the dog thing, and the equestrian club. And I’m enjoying every single minute.

However, Ren is slowly starting to drive me insane. He appears for sporadic visits on campus, between my events. It’s irritating the shit out of me. Maybe I’m just not ready for a relationship. That’s why I’ve decided to tell Ren that things between us are not working out. My first time dumping someone.

“Hey guys,” Damion shouts out, moving towards us. Over the years he’s body filled out in all the right places, leaving it as perfect as a body can be. And right now those muscles were dressed in a black overall. Damn. There goes my revenge idea flying through the window.

Those sexy apple Wicked Witch eyes look at me as if they can see my sudden stone-hard nipples right through my clothes, as my bones melt away. I grab onto Kiara so as not to fall down. Luckily my brothers are preoccupied with wishing their friend a happy birthday, hitting and shoving and clapping each other like the bunch of neanderthal men they are.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” I say sarcastically while hugging him after my brothers calmed down. And right there an electric bolt shoots through my melted skeleton to fry my brain, kick-starting my hypothalamus into a cocktail frenzy that slowly warms up every feminine part like an old stove plate. Wanting. As if anticipating something.

I let out a private chuckle … anticipation for what? Even if he decides to go down on me, I would not know what to do with him. Great big V over here.

“Thanks my angel,” he whispers in my ear. “Remember we need to talk.”

I’m not sure if it’s the words, his voice, or his breath, but another army of tingles flood down my spine, causing the ache down under to increase.

I clench my legs together and try to ignore the butterfly effect. My mind goes into survival mode telling me this is a biological imbalance that happens when one feeling gets mistaken for the other. Lust has nothing to do with love. It’s just an animalistic instinct made of pure raw primal cravings. And boy am I suddenly craving something I know nothing about.

The next moment, Chloe pushes me from his arms, causing a little primal green-eyed monster to appear. I was frickin jealous. And I have no reason to be. He’s not mine. But at least he’s not hers either. That knowledge makes me smile in spite — a big, grinning, malicious smile.

“Come on, darling, the game is about to start.” She wiggles her lashes and pouts that lipstick mouth into a blood-red heart and I have this urge to make her bleed for real. I think I found my least favorite person on this whole green earth.

Damion unclips Chloe’s fingers from his arm, and Logan immediately squeezes in between them. Then Ilkay dips in and pushes the girl even further away. She stomps a foot and goes to stand next to Ren.

“Mel!” A shout comes from behind me and I turn around just in time to brace myself for impact as Luke huddles into my legs, nearly knocking me onto my ass. He locks his arms tight around my hips, facing up at me, his chin on my belly button. He plasters on the biggest cutest BEAST smile ever that wins me over without even putting up a fight.

“You smell so nice,” he says without downgrading his grin.

“Thanks, little dude. And you smell like cookies.” His hazel eyes flash mischievously and he quickly removes his hands. He pulls a chocolate chip cookie from the pocket of his little black overall and holds it up.

“I stole,” he gives his brother a quick glance and corrects his error, “Eh, borrowed these from Mom’s kitchen. She baked them for the party.” He peeps through his super long thick eyelashes at his brother again as if expecting to be scolded. But Damion appears amused, trying to hide a smile. Realizing nothing bad is gonna happen to him he holds out the biscuit to me. “You want one?”

“Nope, I’m good for now.” He crams it back into his pocket.

“People, the game is about to start,” a guy with a microphone shouts. I suppose he works here. The green team grabs their gear and heads out.

Damion throws a belt around my waist and straps me in. He’s so tantalizingly close and so intent on what he’s doing, so I lean slightly forward until my nose is in his hair. He smells clean, fresh, and heavenly.

He pulls the straps tight, his fingers doing a secret seductive dance against my body, making me blush. As if sensing my thoughts, he glances up with heated eyes and smiles like he’s enjoying a private joke.

Fuck. There really is such a thing as a panty-wetting look.

I hold my breath, trying to fight the damp heat forming between my legs as he loads the last hopper into my belt.

While we walk to our gathering point, Damion and Jackson show me, Kiara and Luke how everything works. The men talk some strategy, concluding that the guys would be the protectors, some would stay with the flag and the rest would cover the girls while we try to get to the opponent’s flag.

And then the games begin.

The rules are easy. When you are hit with an enemy ball, you have to leave the field immediately. The team that gets to the other’s flag first is the winner. At this moment, we are on the other side of the course and can’t even see the green flag.

The semi-jungle scene stretching before us is a strange, fearsome place where the enemy could hide in every nook and cranny, specially made for the game. There are trees, trunks, reeds, hay bales, walls, pipes, huts, and tunnels; well placed over the whole course to make it easier, as well as more difficult, for each team. We slowly crawl forward, using the trees and man-made shelters as cover. I’m stuck between Damion and Luke, while Kiara, Jackson, and Axel are just a few meters behind us. The rest of the black team is hidden close to our flag somewhere.

Then Jackson shoots and a green team member swears and leaves the field. I notice some movement to my right and motions to the others. I lean against a tree, hiding while waiting for our opponents to come closer. Damion lies flat on the ground and I jolt when he starts shooting. I peep from behind my tree to see Ren standing up, black dots on his helmet and chest. He looks down at something and I notice part of a green arm. I land a shot at it with a huge smile. It’s Chloe and she jumps up with a scream.

Got you bitch! I yell to myself, feeling ecstatic while moving around the tree.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Pain shoots through my tummy and boobs. The bitch is shooting me with suppressive fire. I want to shout out, but don’t get a chance as a hard body flings against me and pushes me back into the tree, strong arms cradling around my head.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

I can feel his body contract with each shot, but the popping sound doesn’t let up.

“Chloe, stop it, you’re out!” Kiara shouts, but there are some more pops before the explosion of balls suddenly stops. Guess she ran out of ammo. Damion moves his body painfully away, but I stay stuck to the tree for a few moments, gasping for breath.

I’m not sure if my lack of oxygen is because of the force of the balls that hit my chest, or because of the closeness of the body that was pressed against mine seconds ago. Something about him protecting me pulls a string in my heart.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Ouch! Ouch! Stop!” Chloe yells and then she stands there looking surprised down at her overalls covered with black paint, her gun drops to the ground.

“Take that bitch!” Jackson wails, looking like a regular James Bond, weapon still aimed at Chloe.

Pop! Pop!

Two more shots land on a surprised Chloe.

“Stop it!” she yelps. But it wasn’t Jackson this time.

“You deserved that for shooting Mel and my brother,” Luke jumps up and down and gives Jackson a high-five. “Bitch!” he says then. Jackson winks at him.

Ren helps a shattered Chloe and they walk away together, his arm protectively around her shoulders. The idea of him not even attempting to help me or stop her, clouds my mind as we continue our quest, the fact that he’s holding her not bothering me a bit.

Logan who shoots Kiara from behind, is taken out by Jackson. And not in a good friendly manner.

“Fuck you, Logan Blackburn,” Kiara swears and shoots Logan on his ass as they walk away together.

Even though this game is pitiless and even painful, shooting the other team does have a profound and strangely compelling effect of fun on me. And it seems I’m not the only one who feels that way. Damion has this energetic light in his eyes and I know he’s enjoying it just as much. Two more green team members experience our rage and leave the field. We can see the green flag a few yards from us and we bundle together behind a wall.

“Okay, this is it. Let’s get that flag.” Axel whispers.

Luke peeps over the wall in the direction of the winning piece of cloth. I wipe the sweat rolling down my forehead like tiny little vipers with my sleeve. My parched tongue licks over my palate, where dust and spit intermixed to a muddy bitterness.

“I’ll cover Mel and you stick to Luke.” Damion looks at Axel and they salute each other. Jackson disappeared.

“Luke, you’re the secret weapon.” Luke shakes his head eagerly, giving his brother a fist bump. I get up and run to the next cover, green balls splatter all around my feet. It sounds like a machine gun, and then Damion falls next to me.

“It’s Enrique, the bastard,” he grumbles with a smile. We look at the next safe spot and he motions at Axel to be ready. I start running again, balls flying past my head. A pain shoots through my arm. The next moment, Damion dives forward, grabbing me as we fall to the ground, his body on top of mine. Again, he takes a beating of green balls on his body — back, arms, legs, helmet. He moans softly, cursing the lunatic who’s emptying his gun on him.

I see Damion’s mouth move but my heartbeat pounding in my ears causes ferocious drumming inside the helmet, deafening me for a few moments. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to calm my ticker down and when the thumping slowly stops, I can hear his voice.

“You okay?” he asks as soon as the grievous bodily harm to him stops. I nod and then I hear Enrique laughing from behind some logs. Douchebag!

“Enrique, you’re going to be a bloating carcass when I’m finished with you!” Damion shouts, but Enrique just laughs harder.

I smell that fresh, citrus, and woody scent I have come to associate with Damion over the years. Homme mixed with sweat! Somehow it triggers my butterflies. They must be drawn to the musky smell of perspiration.

I barely register the pain from the bruised wounds on my body as it is being drowned out by the heightened, throbbing ache between my legs.

The next moment, Enrique swears loudly, and he runs past us, jolting each time a black ball hits him. Jackson is following close behind, an arsenal of paintballs firing from his gun straight at his twin. And the look on his face tells me that he might just be enjoying it a little too much. From somewhere behind a car wreck, Ilkay is covering Enrique, dishing out a frenzy of fire toward Jackson.

“Fuck off, Jackson!” Enrique swears again, trying to hide behind an old car wreck.

“Now why would I do that,” his twin shouts back.

Damion looks at me with a heated glint in his eyes, and wipes his fingers over my cheek, saying I have some dirt there. I wiggle to get free, scared by the emotions I’m feeling, and notice a green patch on my sleeve. Damn, I’ve been hit this time — I’m out.

Damion helps me to my feet, holding me just a moment too long.