Immortal Scars Read online

  Immortal Scars

  Scars Book One

  A. L. Williams

  Copyright © 2019 by A.L Williams

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion of it

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner

  without the express written permission of the author or publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my late grandmother. She was always my strength and peace. She guided me with all the love she had and without judgement.

  Beatrice Miller WIlliams

  I love you

  Rest in peace

  1929-2017

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The sun painted the skies with shades of gold and violet as it rose over the horizon. Flames spread through the field, once filled with milky-white cotton. The endless crackling stocks crumbled into ash. He gazed at the destruction, watching the flickering red and orange fire rush towards the massive mansion, overlooking the plantation.

  People ran to the house with buckets, throwing water on the raging inferno. Loud shouts of panic and pain echoed into the night sky. Around him, dark smoke drifted into the clouds, thickening the air. He looked down at his mother’s scorched form. He balled his hands into fists. “Why?” Tears trailed down his face as he gazed down at a puddle at his feet, white eyes staring back.

  Chapter One

  James

  A swirl of fluorescent lights danced to the rhythm of the loud music. Shades of blues, reds, yellows, and greens illuminated Divine. It had become the gay-center of Tucson for the night, filled with men, women, and non-binary individuals. The high beat, muffled laughter, and small talk surrounded me. Bottles of alcohol lined the walls of the two bars.

  I rubbed my temple as I scanned the dark room, finding Hayley dancing with a person who looked very much androgynous. She swung her leather-clad hips, her outfit stretching across her slim pale form. She pressed her bosom against the stranger, gyrating with her head thrown back. When she opened her eyes, she turned to her dance partner, whispering in their ear. They frowned as she pulled away, plowing through the herd of people. She approached me with a wide smile, her blue eyes catching the glint of the swirling lights.

  “You should go say hi,” she said.

  I glanced at her. “Huh?”

  She pointed behind me. “He’s been looking at you since you came in.” I turned and froze, spotting a man staring at me. Light danced off of his dark, bronzed skin, shimmering in the dim circling lights. His close-set eyes were dark brown. His lips were full and large. When they curled into a smile, accentuating his jaw, my heart almost stopped.

  “Damn, he’s hot,” Hayley said. “Looks like you think so, too.” She snickered and reached over, snapping my mouth shut. I jumped and warmth spread across my face. “He lives,” she said. I rolled my eyes, glancing back at him. He smiled once more at me and turned to his friend, rubbing his bald head. “Go talk to him,” Hayley tugged on my denim sleeve.

  “Who?” I waved the bartender down to order a beer.

  “Jamie!” she said.

  “What? I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I avoided eye contact, brushing my locks back. Even if he was hot, I wasn't here for that. I didn’t know why I had agreed to come. Hayley had a habit of convincing me to go along with her.

  She glared at me. “James Miller. Don’t play dumb. You need to loosen up.” She turned to the bartender and ordered two AMFs. She pushed the glass of chilled blue liquid in front of me. “Drink.” I eyed the drink and grabbed it, chugging as much as I could in one gulp. “WOOT! Another one barkeep!” she yelled over the music.

  Several drinks later, my body had relaxed. Hayley swayed to the melody. “Wow, you can drink,” she said, hiccupping as she leaned against me. I chuckled. “Wanna dance?” she asked.

  “Sure.” I slid off the stool and moved towards the dance floor, hitting a hard chest. When I looked up, I met the intense dark brown eyes I had been staring at earlier.

  My face warmed. “Hi,” he said, his voice like butter. He gazed at me, my pale white eyes reflecting back. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember why I was staying away from him. He leaned down, and I shivered, his lips almost brushing my ear. “Do you want to dance?” I bobbed my head.

  What are you doing?

  He guided me to the dance floor, pulling me against his chest. He started to move his hips to the beat, holding me close. I leaned into him, laying my head against him as he guided my movements. With each passing song I only saw him. His hands slid down my body, touching every part of me. I tried to control the rising desire in my veins as I bit my lip. My arms wrapped around his neck wanting to stay pressed against him forever—well, my cock did. He grabbed my ass, squeezing it hard. I gasped and all my blood rushed south. We moved together, our cocks rubbing under our clothes. The music sank into me—everyone else forgotten.

  I peered up at him and met his eyes shimmering with a primal need that sent a shudder through me. We breathed into each other’s mouth, close, but not touching, as we continued to move. My body was on fire, burning with want. He leaned in, my skin tingled as his breath grazed my flesh. His intoxicating, purely male scent filled my nose, going to straight to my cock, and I wanted more. We continued like that, time standing still, not noticing the switch from one song to another as I melted into his warmth.

  Something vibrated against my hip. “Shit,” he said, withdrawing. He fished his phone from his pocket. My head started to clear and reality hit me. “I have to go, but can I get your number?” He furrowed his brow.

  Backing away, I chewed my lip. “I can’t.” His face fell as I ran through the crowd, bumping into people that danced around us. When I made it to the bar, I slumped against the stool and took a deep breath and a swig of my beer.

  Hayley flopped down next to me. “I didn’t know you could dance like that.” I choked and she chuckled while patting my back. “Why’d you leave? He was totally into you,” she said. “And you into him.” She glanced down at my crotch. “I knew you weren’t a monk.” I swiveled my stool towards the counter to hide the evidence of my arousal, my face red—I was glad it was dark and I was black.

  “Shut it,” I said, gulping down the last of my beer. “I’ve been drinking too much. I need to be more careful,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

  “Don’t be so serious. Life is too short. Pull that stick out of your ass and put a cock there instead,” she said. I choked again. When I caught my breath, I glared at her as she ordered another drink. Why was she so crude? I met Hayley two years ago, when I started at Fresh N Hot
, a local coffee shop downtown, and she had latched on to me from day one. Every morning she would pick on me for how serious I was. Referring to my expression as my "Resting Bitch Face''. I tried to keep her at a distance, but being the only employees there, that was difficult. After a while, I grew accustomed to her and even enjoyed her company. Which worried me because I would have to leave.

  My stomach soured, and I put my glass down. “I’ve had enough.” I pressed my palm against my half-hard cock and tried to will it down.

  Get a grip.

  My dick didn’t listen, twitching again at the thought of those puffy lips wrapped around my shaft. I groaned. The last thing I needed was to lose control mid blowjob.

  The night stretched on, people becoming more intoxicated and boisterous. Hayley continued to chatter and my mind drifted back to the beautiful man. Who was he? What did he do for a living? "Hey! Are you listening?" She nudged my arm.

  I rubbed the back of my head. "Sorry."

  Hayley opened her mouth to respond and the hairs on my arms stood. I looked back and saw a man stumbling up. He stunk of alcohol and Axe body spray. "Hey, beautiful.” He swayed as he moved closer to Hayley. I cringed, his stench growing stronger.

  Hayley narrowed her eyes, scowling at him."I'm not interested." She pushed on his chest.

  "Oh, come on, I could show you a good time." He continued to advance. My chest tightened. Hayley backed up."You shouldn't even be here. This is a gay bar!" Hayley's back hit the bar as he advanced. He grabbed her arm, tugging her closer. My skin began to tingle.

  I dashed forward, pulling her behind me. "She said go away." My heart beat against my chest, struggling to keep the heat boiling under my skin at bay.

  "She isn't interested, buddy." I turned and spotted an average-sized Asian man, no more than 5'8" behind the bar. His golden eyes burned in the dark club. He brushed back his short hair, the red fading into white at the tips. "You can go now." The drunk guy huffed. "I can always get one of our boys to escort you out," the bartender said, as he jerked his chin towards the bouncers. The drunk guy sneered and stomped off.

  We turned to the bartender. "Thank you, uh— " Hayley said.

  "Sebastian." He smiled.

  "Thank you." She said. He nodded and went back to mixing drinks.

  I turned back and found Hayley standing in front of me with furrowed brows, worry sparkling in her light eyes. "You okay?"

  I chuckled. "I should ask the same question."

  She shrugged. "I’m used to it." I tilted my head. Did she get hit on often? I could not imagine being treated that badly. I opened my mouth to speak and yawned instead. "Getting tired, old man?"

  I rolled my eyes again. “I’m going home.” My mind drifted back to that man who made my insides melt. I needed to get out of here. I expected her to argue, but she smiled and nodded with sadness.

  She wrapped her arms around my stiff shoulders. “Night, Jamie. Love you.”

  My stomach churned. “Goodnight.”

  ~

  The aroma of rain and dirt mingled and wafted into my face as I strolled across the courtyard of my apartment. It was late August and the university students and snowbirds were returning. In the distance, sand and dust-covered mountain peaks, dotted with tall saguaro, surrounded the city of Tucson, coyotes howling into the distant peaks. I inhaled the dusty desert air, the lingering stench of garbage and hot metal filling my nose. I looked at the wood-chip filled pad, playground equipment scattered about the silent complex. Along the cracked path, cigarette butts covered the cement.

  When I entered my apartment door, the room was bathed in shadow. The drapes above my two-seater dining table swayed around the grimy windows. My studio had low ceilings and faded carpet, which stopped at the kitchen, replaced by peeling linoleum. A set of sliding doors to my patio was covered by blinds that did nothing to obstruct the moon's rays. I moved over to my bed and sat down, the springs squeaking. I glanced over at the corner of my room at my tall, narrow easel with a sheet thrown over it. A rolling cart of assorted paints and brushes sat next to it. I started drawing after the Civil War and sketching on scrap pieces of paper, getting lost in each pencil stroke. After a while, I switched to painting.

  The air conditioner and refrigerator hummed in the silent room. The odor of mildew and sterile, dry, cold air filled my nose. I turned to the end table at my side, 12 AM flashing across the screen of my clock.

  Why did I dance with that man?

  I didn't know him and I wasn't one to just throw myself at people.

  So why did I do it?

  Maybe I was getting too comfortable.

  When I got to my feet, I walked over to my easel, pulling the sheet from it and sitting down. The canvas was covered with swirls of blues, whites, and muted tones of earth and harvest. The sky looked over-scattered white dots of cotton, frozen mid sway in the wind. A figure stood among the cotton as her dress swayed. Building upon each layer with thin layers of paint, the figure became more defined as I worked. She faced away from me, a faceless person to all but me.

  After painting for a while, I glanced back at my clock, seeing that it was almost 2 AM. I cleaned off my brushes and threw the sheet back over my painting, I went into the bathroom. The room was tiny, but clean, with minimal supplies. I pulled back the plain, white shower curtain that concealed the white walls and hanging shower caddy. Reaching for the bath fixtures that matched the sink and toilet, I turned them on. The sound of running water filled the room, fogging up the mirror above the cracked sink.

  At first glance, I passed for a twenty-five-year-old man and that hadn’t changed. My eyes were the only thing that stood out. My mother said they were a gift from God. She said nothing more than that, never speaking of where I came from or who my father was. I removed my clothes, throwing them in the corner, and stepped into the shower. Leaning my head against the shower wall, the hot water scalded my back.

  My mind drifted back to the club. The press of his body and the intoxicating scent of his skin lingered, even now. I couldn't go there, having already made that mistake of building a relationship with Hayley. That would just make things more complicated.

  The sound of my mother’s screams echoed in my ears. I clenched my jaw and punched the wall, sending cracks across it. I stared up at the damage. “Well, there goes my deposit.” Water sprayed over me, relaxing my body. The glint of a sharp object caught my eye as I glanced up. I reached for the scuffed razor blade, tucked behind my shampoo, and sliced my skin from wrist to forearm. Blood gathered, dripping down my arm. Seconds later, the wound stitched itself back together and sealed.

  After cutting myself a few more times, I leaned back against the wall as the pressure in my body receded. My vision blurred from the euphoria, watching the blood swirl down the drain with the rush of water. Snagging the soap, I placed the blade back in place and then scrubbed myself raw as the sounds of crackling flames floated around my mind. I would forget him. I scrubbed harder.

  Just forget him.

  Chapter Two

  Andrew

  I flipped through a pile of paperwork in front of me, sitting at a small desk with a computer screen and tower. The sun shone through the large window at my side, bathing the couch and fake potted plants in light. I scanned the documents, sipping on my warm coffee. A tapping pulled me from my task. "Enter," I said, leaning back in my chair as the door swung open.

  "Hey, Andy!" Ben chimed. I rolled my eyes. He was always calling me that even though I had told him not to. He ducked into the room, his dark-golden skin wrapped snugly in a gray cashmere suit. He ran his hand over his shaved head with a smirk, revealing his dimples. His emerald eyes shimmered, catching the glint of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

  "What?" I asked, returning to flipping through reports.

  "What are you doing later?" he asked.

  "Going home to work on a case."

  Ben glared at me. "You work too much."

  I glared at him. "Crime never stops."

&nbs
p; He scoffed. "You need to get out."

  I rolled my eyes. "I went out with you last weekend. Wasn't that enough?"

  "And you found that fine piece of ass. Not so into his locks, but he was definitely a looker." I frowned. I couldn't argue with that. That night had started out great. When I danced with that guy he had felt amazing against me-something I hadn’t experienced in years. He wasn't the sexiest man I had ever seen or even been with. The medium twisted locks that fell down around his oval face, stubble surrounding his chin, fading into his dark creamy skin, framing his eerie white eyes. The press of his lean muscular body made my mouth water and my heart race. The last thing I wanted was to be away from him, but when I asked for his number, he ran away. I left disappointed.

  "You wanna go again? He might be there," Ben said. The scent of that man's skin drifted through my senses, tempting me to say yes. I clenched my jaw. It was obvious he wasn't interested. I shook it off. It didn't matter.

  "We're detectives and should be working, not going to clubs."

  He jutted his hip to the side. "Oh, come on."

  "Ben—" I started.

  "What if he's there again?" he interrupted.

  I pushed back in my chair and stood, walking around my desk. "It's unlikely. He ran away." I went up to him. "Just forget about it."

  He watched me as I moved. "At least be my wingman?”

  I sighed. "You don't need a wingman."

  Ben was a huge womanizer/manizer? Whatever. He was a player and could get into anyone's pants. Well, except for mine. We decided long ago not to go there. We were better as friends.

  I glanced at him, his eyes twinkling. "Fine. Two hours and then I'm going home."

  He grinned. "Awesome! I'll finish up some paperwork and then head home to get ready."

  A full day never passed without him changing his clothes. He was such a diva. I didn't know why I agreed to be his partner.