Authors: Nicole Grane
“Are you sure you want to pledge your love to a . . .” I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “ . . . Half werewolf . . . disaster zone?” I asked lifting my hand for him to see.
He took it gently, kissing it once again. “As you have proven, you
heal
rather quickly.” His fingers now traced along the side of my ribs. They were still a little tender, but nowhere near as distressed as before. “And you are not a werewolf!” he added firmly. A smile hung on his face
I half-smiled, still not trusting in those words. “But you’re still afraid to make love to me . . . aren’t you?” I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. This conversation was making me sweat. My whole body felt clammy now.
“Yes,” he admitted flatly, his eyes looking squarely into mine. “I am afraid to make love to you.”
“I understand.” I gave him a small smile as I moved to get up.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he teased, flipping me onto my back. My breath caught as I hit the mattress. “I believe we were in the middle of something when I’d asked you to marry me?”
“But, I thought you were afraid?” I protested.
“I’d be a fool not to be.” His voice was husky now. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His lips kissed mine gently before they moved over my neck. My heart jumped into motion, pumping faster for him. “I’m doing it again aren’t I?” I could hear him grinning, “Making your heart call to me.” His teeth barely grazed my skin, causing me to shiver. “I never said I didn’t want to make love to you,” he mused. “Or that I wasn’t going to try, now did I?” He looked at me with a somewhat devious expression on his face. “You didn’t think I could say no forever did you?”
“I hoped not,” I said in a sultry tone. I nipped at his lip, causing a frustrated groan to escape him.
I giggled, flinching away from a well placed kiss. A moment later, I was sweating profusely. My ears began to ring as I watched the room spin around me. My eyes were going in and out of focus.
“Marcus.” I gripped his shoulders tightly, trying to center myself. “Something’s wrong with me.”
His face came back to mine, his features were still out of focus. His hand rested on my cheek, and then my forehead . . .
I moaned, the coolness of his touch, relieving the fog momentarily.
“You’re burning up again!” he exclaimed. His eyes wandered over me, pausing at my shoulder—I didn’t think it was possible for him to turn so pale.
“Marcus?” my voice sounded far away, muffled even.
“Phoebe? Can you hear me?”
I read his lips. I shook my head no. I couldn’t hear a thing over the loud ringing in my head. My eyes, so heavy, started to close.
“No! Phoebe, don’t go to sleep. Stay awake.” He shook me lightly.
My head swayed from side to side—my eyes out of focus once again.
He jumped up and began dressing.
“Where are you going?” I asked sleepily. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I did!” he growled.
“Marcus.” I rolled over, as I tried to sit up. “Ow!” My hand clutched onto my throbbing arm.
Marcus rushed back to me. “Phoebe I’m sorry! I don’t know how—my tooth must have—I was being so careful!” he hid his face in his hands.
“You bit me?” I gasped. I released my shoulder and stared at my fingers, small traces of blood now stained them. “I’m bleeding!”
I jumped up. The room whirled around me, distorting itself so I didn’t know which way was upright. I didn’t want to leave an open wound, no matter how small it was for Marcus to see. I pulled the sheets around me and started toward the bathroom. I staggered about seven steps when I crumpled to the floor like a house of cards.
“PHOEBE…!”
I could hear a soft buzzing around the room. The whispers were getting louder as it turned into bickering. I left my eyes closed for the time being, hoping to avoid any disapproving stares.
“Well, what were you doing to cause her to overheat like that?” Charlotte snapped. I could picture her right now. Her hands balled into fists atop her large hips.
“I can assure you, Charlotte, I wasn’t the instigator,” Marcus tried to defend himself.
“No one blames you, Sir,” Richard spoke—always the peacemaker. “I’m sure it was bound to happen. She isn’t quite over this yet,” he added sympathetically. “Any exertion whatsoever would have caused her to relapse and overheat.”
“All the more reason to mind your manners! Honestly, the things you men say to justify . . .” Charlotte’s voice trailed off as she walked out of the room.
“Can I get you anything, Sir?” Sarah’s small voice asked kindly.
“No thank you Sarah. All I need is for Phoebe to come back to me . . . and forgive me,” he added under his breath.
Forgive him? For what, I thought.
“I’ll go and see if Charlotte needs any help,” Sarah offered.
My eyes fluttered, slowly opening to see Marcus sitting beside the bed with his hands over his eyes. “Marcus?”
“Phoebe. Thank God!” He took my bandaged hand in his, kissing it gently. His forehead had long creases from worry. I’d have thought he’d been crying if I didn’t know any better.
“Marcus, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” I looked him over quickly. My mind instantly jumped to all sorts of horrible conclusions.
“Darling, I’m fine. It’s you,” his voice cracked. “I was so worried about you.”
“Me? What’s wrong with me?” I could hear the panic in my voice.
“How are you feeling Miss?” Richard joined us, his tall body looming over Marcus's. His thoughtful eyes fixed on me.
“Just tell me Richard: how bad is it?” Marcus asked impatiently, not bothering to wait for my answer.
“How bad is what?” I looked back and forth between them. I began to prepare—anticipating the worst.
“I was being so careful,” he growled. His eyes glanced at my shoulder. I followed. A small bandage covered it. I looked back at Marcus with a look of confusion.
“It’s only like a scratch,” Richard offered quickly.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Phoebe, I don’t find this funny at all,” Marcus scolded.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to compose myself. “I thought something serious had happened.”
The two of them stared at me blankly as Charlotte burst into the room with a big bowl of chicken soup. The smell of it, reached me before she did—my stomach growled.
“Oh you’re feeling better,” she beamed. “Now you just finish this up and rest . . . quietly!” Charlotte fixed Marcus with a stern stare before she left the room.
I roared with laughter, almost tipping my soup. “She does think you’re a cad!”
“Just . . . eat your soup!” Marcus growled. “If you can?” He watched me nervously. I ate the soup, every bit of it, under watchful eyes.
“I’m not a vampire!” I laughed. “Besides, wouldn’t I have some sort of vampirish smell that you could detect if I were? Is that even a word . . . ‘vampirish’?” I mused thoughtfully.
Marcus shot me a disapproving stare. “No. It is not a word,” he answered sharply.
I grinned. “Let’s just call that a love nip,” I suggested playfully.
“You really must be more careful, Sir,” Richard spoke. “Had that been any deeper—”
Marcus lifted his hand up, stopping Richard in mid-sentence. “It won’t happen again, I can assure you.”
I dropped my spoon in my bowl with a loud clatter. “What? Exactly what won’t happen again?” All humor was gone. “The love nip, or . . .”
“I think I’ll let the two of you finish this conversation in private.” Richard hurried from the room—a wise man.
“Marcus?” I pushed the bowl aside and sat up. I held my forehead in my hands, trying to keep the room from spinning—I’d moved too fast.
“Lay back down,” Marcus sighed. “You’re not well.”
“Not until you tell me what you meant by that.” I lifted my chin in determination.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to allow myself the opportunity to hurt you again. Richard’s right, had that been any deeper . . . I simply won’t chance it.” He turned and walked toward the door. This was a pattern for Marcus. When something he deemed as reckless happened, he’d try and put as much distance between us as he could. Not this time.
My first thought: be tough. Fight him with logic. My second thought . . . was a bit more . . . emotional. I went for the latter. I felt weak anyway. I started to cry. He rushed back to me in a panic, trying to comfort me—as I hoped he would.
“I thought you loved me,” I sobbed. “You said you wanted to marry me!”
“I do love you. I do want to marry you. I
did
marry you! Phoebe, I don’t understand?” He looked bewildered.
“If you loved me, if you want to be my husband, you won’t push me away,” I cried into my hands. Real tears. I couldn’t stand being pushed away any longer.
“I’m not pushing you away—”
“You are!” I insisted. My tear streaked face, meeting his. “You can’t tell me that you won’t ever hold me like that again. That I won’t get the chance to ever really love you.” I toppled over onto the bed in defeat; burring my face in the blankets. “Just let me die,” I moaned.
“You are
not
dying.” Marcus growled in frustration.
“I will if you say you’ll never hold me like that again,” I promised. “If you won’t make love to me because you’re always afraid . . . there’s no point in you staying with me.” My voice was flat, lifeless. “I may as well leave.”
“Phoebe, I said I’d protect you, not hurt you! And you aren’t going anywhere without me.”
“Well you are hurting me!” The tears continued to flow. Why couldn’t he see that?
He was yelling now. “Phoebe, don’t you realize that by accident, I could have ended your life today?”
“Marcus, it’s just a scratch. You’d never really bite me. I know it!”
He sat quietly, deliberating his position. I didn’t dare look at him. His hand settled on my lower back, lightly rubbing it. My blood started to heat again.
“Perhaps when you are well . . .” His voice cracked.
I smiled into the blankets.
“I’ll leave you to rest now,” he said, sounding a little tired himself.
“Marcus!” I reached out, grabbing his hand before he’d risen. I rose to my knees and gingerly put my arms around him. “I love you.”
“You will be the death of me,” he smiled crookedly as he playfully tussled my hair.
“Oh no, not me . . . you won’t ever die because of me.” My demeanor had changed.
“Why does that make me nervous?” His guard was up again. He observed me carefully.
I shrugged my shoulders, trying to look as meek as possible. I hadn’t meant for that to come out so adamantly.
“I promised to protect you, and I will—no matter the cost to myself. You will not put yourself in danger to spare me.”
He’d somehow figured me out. “Marcus be reasonable—”
“Absolutely not!” he thundered as he rose from the bed. “Didn’t last night scare you?”
“Yes it did. It terrified me! I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were dead or not. If I had only stayed with you—”
“NO!” He faced me squarely. “I can’t worry about your safety when I’m trying to stay alive myself. I can’t protect you if you’re taking unnecessary risks!”
I got up slowly. It felt strange to stand, like I hadn’t been on my feet in days. I fought the dizziness. I held my head in my hands as I made my way over to him.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” His voice was softer now.
“I’m alright.”
“You are not alright.” His hands gripped my arms, steadying me, I was glad for the support.
“Marcus. Please understand. I just want to help you. I’d do anything to keep you safe with me.”
He brushed a lock of hair from my face. His fingers lingered as they grazed my cheek. “I understand better than you know. But darling, you wouldn’t have lost me. Richard was there.”
“Richard was there?”
“Yes. The one that was running up behind me!” he prompted.
“That was Richard?” I gasped, trying to remember. My face had to be a brilliant shade of red. “Sorry,” I winced in embarrassment.
“I know you were trying to protect me, and I love you for it.” He lowered his knees, looking me squarely in the face. “You do know that had Rain not been with you, you’d have never gotten away. Neither of us could have got to you in time.”
“I’ll be more careful next time,” I promised.
“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time; at least one that involves you.” He took my face in his hands. “I was never more terrified than the moment I saw you racing away with those wolves literally at your tail. And me, powerless to help you.”
I looked up into his loving eyes. I understood how he must see me now. I was weak, fragile, and human—someone he would always have to look out for. He was strong, virtually indestructible, and immortal. I’d be worried about me too if I were in his position. How pathetic I must have seemed.
I could feel my legs beginning to burn. They wobbled under the weight of my body. I couldn’t fall. I wouldn’t. I had to be stronger, for Marcus's sake as well as my own. I didn’t want him to have to worry about me so much.
Marcus had me in his arms before my legs could collapse. He’d clearly sensed my weakness—wonderful.
“Rest today; you really were very ill. Your fever was so high, I thought—” his voice caught, unable to say the words.
“I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” I said as he tucked me back into the bed.
“I’m thankful I have you to look after.” The look in his eyes told me he’d meant it.
“Do you still want to get married tonight? I mean . . . officially . . .”
“Wouldn’t you rather wait?” Marcus asked. “We could have it outside in the garden? With you standing on your own feet instead of lying in a bed,” he teased. “I could have Kim and Leah flown in if you’d like?”
“No. I don’t want to waste another minute. Either one of us could have been killed last night. I want to start our life together . . . again.”
He leaned down and kissed my lips.
“I do have a surprise for you.” He baited the hook, smiling coyly. “Charlotte’s bringing dinner up here tonight.”
“Oh. That . . . sounds nice.” I admitted softly a little disappointed that he hadn’t agreed to the wedding.
“I’ll have Sarah look in on you after a while.” He kissed me briskly and started for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back,” he winked, shutting the door behind him.
I lay there, thinking of how close Marcus and I had been to making love. How once again I’d managed to screw it up. I thought about his beautiful proposal and about how much he loved me. He’d do anything to protect me, but he wouldn’t hear of me protecting him. Marcus was a bit old fashioned; understandably, he was seven hundred and forty-nine, after all.