Authors: Nicole Grane
There was a soft knock at the door.
Marcus rushed over to let Sarah in. She had a large tray with two covered plates, a small loaf of bread, a dish of butter, and another plate full of raspberry tarts.
“Enjoy!” She winked at me; then lowered her eyes when she saw that Marcus had seen, and rushed from the room.
“What was that about?” Marcus asked, still staring after Sarah.
“Nothing—girl stuff.” I tried to play it off.
“Why would she wink at you like that?” he asked, ignoring my brush off.
“It’s nothing. Really, it’s—” I stopped. Richard didn’t want Marcus to know about him and Sarah. I’d have to word this carefully. But he’d want to know why Sarah would care if Richard had taken an interest in me anyway. There was only way out of this: “Let’s eat!” I sat down and lifted the lid off my plate to reveal steak, baked potato, and fried greens. “I’ll have to remember to thank Charlotte for going to all this trouble . . . may I?” I took up my knife and fork.
Marcus gave me a defeated look, realizing I wasn’t going to explain Sarah’s behavior. “Of course Darling. I’ll just fix the fire a bit.”
I took a bite of the steak. It was amazing. Although, I wasn’t a bit surprised, Charlotte was a spectacular cook.
There were two bottles on the table. They looked like some sort of wine. I opened one up and poured it into a delicate crystal glass. “What a brilliant shade of red,” I thought as I swirled the wine around before I took a whiff of the bouquet. “Curious. I don’t think I can place the scent. It’s not a grape . . . does this have some kind of berry in it?” I put the glass to my lips, tilting the liquid back.
“NO!” Marcus flew at me, knocking the glass from my mouth. My chair crashed backward onto the floor. I landed hard, hitting the back of my head into the wood frame of the footboard. I grabbed my head and held it tightly as I curled into a ball. I could feel the blood on my fingertips.
“What’s the matter with you?” I cried, holding my head protectively.
“Phoebe, I . . .” he stepped toward me. His eyes were wild, frightening. I found myself recoiling from him.
“Stop!” I put my hand out, stopping him as I tried to get up. I staggered sideways, falling back to the floor. I’d hit my head so hard; I was surprised I wasn’t knocked out.
He moved toward me again.
“No! Just stay away from me!” I didn’t understand why he’d attack me like that.
“I couldn’t let you drink that,” Marcus snapped.
“What? Why not?” I got up slower this time, still holding my head while I swayed back and forth, keeping a distance between us.
“Did you get any in your mouth?” he asked frantically.
“What?”
“Did you drink any?” he shouted.
“No! I don’t know. I don’t think so?” I was so confused. “How could you attack me like that?” I studied my bloodied hand then looked back to Marcus.
He looked just as shaken as I felt. “That bottle is filled with blood,” he said through gritted teeth.
“WHAT?” I gagged. I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I threw open the toilet seat and vomited. I was physically ill now. I tried brushing my teeth over and over, just in case there was any blood in my mouth, the thought made me sick all over again.
I stayed in the bathroom for hours before Marcus finally knocked on the door.
“Phoebe, are you alright?”
“No!”
There was a brief moment of silence. “I had Charlotte warm your food up for you. It’s ready when you are.”
Like I can eat now, I thought to myself. I held my head as I pried myself off the floor and opened the door. Marcus was standing there, worried looking.
“Why on earth would you have a bottle of blood on the dinner table?” I asked flatly.
“I thought . . . since we’re going to be married . . . I should get used to drinking around you. That it might help with the urge . . . apparently that was a mistake.” His eyes dropped to the floor in shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Now
I
felt bad. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I want you to feel comfortable around me.” I frowned. “You should have told me. What would have happened to me if I’d drank that?” I cringed, holding back the impulse to vomit again.
“Being infected as you are . . . werewolves crave blood as well. Not for food, like vampires, though. For them, it’s the victory of the kill. Once they’ve tasted it . . . they’ll do anything to get it again.”
Great. I had been a sip away from bloodlust! “I guess I’ll just have to watch what I drink around here.” I said dryly.
Marcus’s eyes looked sad, hurt.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away. My head was bleeding . . . I didn’t want you to get too close. You scared me,” I admitted at last. The words harder to say then I thought.
“I’m sorry.” He turned to leave.
“Oh no you don’t!” I hiked up my dress, ran and leaped onto his back. “You don’t give me a ring like this, ask me to marry you, and run out on me.” I held onto him and ruffled the back of his hair playfully. Marcus had scared me. He’d hurt me. But the pain of him leaving me would have hurt worse. The very idea of being separated from him scared me more—and truthfully, he’d only been protecting me.
“You’re . . . not afraid to be alone with me?” His voice was still sad.
“I’m not afraid. I know you were only looking out for me. I’ll never doubt you again. Never!” I craned my head around and kissed his lips. “I love you Marcus Ashworth. I’ll love you until the end of time.”
He smiled and kissed me back.
“Now, how about that dinner?” I teased.
“Anything you wish, my love.”
I grazed his ear gently with my lip, nibbling on it playfully. “Anything?” I whispered.
He shot me a disapproving glance that immediately softened into a smile.
“I’ll just settle for dinner then.” I winked.
I woke the next morning with a killer headache. I could already feel the bump on my head: Just another monumental moment to add to my summer of agony.
Marcus had slept next to me last night—with some persuasion. He’d felt so guilty for what had happened before dinner that he had his “wine” alone on the balcony. He decided not to drink around me for the time being. Considering the thought of blood now made me ill, I didn’t object.
I looked out my window into the morning. The weather looked crisp. The sky was overcast, and dark, foreboding clouds hung low.
I was feeling a little keyed up. I hadn’t been for a run since I’d left home several days ago. All signs of my “illness” had left me. I was more than ready to leave the confines of my room.
I went to the closet and put on the sweat pants and shirt I had on last night before I decided to change into an outfit that would compliment Marcus's tuxedo. I added a sweatshirt and headed downstairs.
“Going out Miss?” Sarah caught me at the door.
“Good Morning, Sarah. Yes. I thought I’d go for a run before breakfast. Have you seen Mr. Marcus?”
“He had a few phone calls to make this morning. I suspect he’s still in the library,” she added cheerfully.
“You seem rather happy this morning . . . does Mr. Richard have anything to do with that?” I asked playfully. “Uh huh.” I winked at Sarah’s blushing face before I shut the door behind me.
I ran softly across the immaculate lawn. The grass was thick; I felt as though I were running on pillows, each step sinking into the next.
I decided to run to the little pond I saw last night while we were flying. I knew it wasn’t that far past the horse stables. I found the trailhead directly behind them and started down it. I checked my watch. I’d been running about ten minutes . . . I had to be getting close.
The sun flashed through the unfamiliar trees ahead, casting shadows on the ground. I looked around nervously. I remembered the last time I’d been running through the forest—Brian had attacked me. I shook away the memory. This is different. Brian is more than an ocean away. There was no danger of him finding me here.
I stopped suddenly. My mouth hung open in awe. The pond was more like a small lake. Flowering lily pads were everywhere. Toads were croaking their song, while birds chirped in the trees overhead. A small rowboat rested on the bank, waiting for someone to climb aboard. This was a place from a storybook, a place to whisper.
I noticed a large flat rock resting near the pond’s edge. I walked over to it and sat. Taking in my new world, I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I took in a deep relaxing breath—a hint of musk traveled on the breeze. My eyes grew wide!
“You look absolutely beautiful, my dear.” A voice spoke from behind me.
I swallowed loudly. A pair of hands now rested on my shoulders. My back stiffened. I didn’t look behind me. I knew whom the hands belonged to. I recognized his scent. “Damen.”
“Hello Phoebe. How are you enjoying your trip to England?” he asked casually.
“Well, it isn’t without its bumps,” I said dryly.
“I see. That is quite a nasty bump you have.”
“It’s not that big!” I snapped, shrugging away from him. I touched the tender spot on my head. “What do you want Damen?”
“I was just wondering if you were ready to end this charade with Marcus.” He was walking around me now, circling me like a hawk, ready to swoop down on its prey.
“Exactly what charade is that?” I made no effort to conceal my annoyance.
“You must realize by now that the two of you can never be together. I expect that’s why you’re here alone instead of with him now.
“
That
is none of your business,” I stood up and faced him squarely with my hands on my hips. I was going to stand my ground.
“Easy!” he laughed. “It’s just an observation . . . although; you can’t deny that I seemed to have hit a nerve.”
I glowered at him. “Is there any point to this little meeting, other than to thoroughly annoy me?” I grumped.
“Yes, although that
is
a bonus. You really are a delight,” he mused, ignoring the lethal expression affixed to my face—he leaned in closer, his warm breath blowing across my ear. “You always were.”
I jerked away from him.
He laughed, circling me once again. “As I said, I’ve come to see if you were ready for me to take you now?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I looked at him in disbelief.
“It’s beautiful.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “It’s just what you should have.” His voice was low, almost melancholy.
“Damen I . . . I don’t understand you.” I looked at him curiously. “You seem to care for me in one breath, and in the next . . . you insult me. Scare me. You even tried to have me killed!” I took my hand back.
He looked confused. “If I tried, you’d be dead.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “The other night, a pack of werewolves chased me on horseback. They attacked Marcus in the yard!”
“Yet . . . Marcus lives.” His voice was condescending.
“Yes, Marcus lives. Thank God!”
“Humph. God had nothing to do with it. Neither did I.”
“Like I’d believe you; just . . . go.”
His eyes flickered to my hands. He was watching me nervously twist my ring back and forth. I could see the anger rising in his face. His eyes looked more yellow than blue now. I stepped back a little.
“No! Not this time,” he growled coldly. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled my body to him. My breath caught on impact.
I could feel his heart pounding against my chest. I turned my head slightly, trying to put some distance between his face and mine. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. His arm was firm around the small of my back.
“He’s a vampire, you’re a . . . it will
never
work!” he thundered.
“We work just fine,” I struggled, pushing against his chest—I wasn’t going anywhere.
He yanked my wrist abruptly, bringing it to his face, his yellow eyes staring right into mine. “What happened to your hand?” he snarled.
“Me!” I breathed heavily. “Apparently I can’t pick up a sword correctly.” I glowered at him, yanking it away.
He grabbed my jaw, holding it firmly, demanding my attention.
“Damen you’re hurting me.” I tried to pry his fingers away.
“Do you realize that he could kill you?”
“You could as well,” I reminded him sharply.
“I can control myself,” he spoke through gritted teeth, still squeezing my face with his hand.
“Yeah? You’re doing a real good job of it now,” I winced, still unable to break free.
His eyes narrowed. He released my face, only to grip my neck between his hands. The action so fast, I couldn’t have prevented it. He brushed his thumb across my lips—I trembled.
“I could kiss you without having the urge to bite you.” He pressed his face against my cheek, inhaling deeply. I was frozen where I stood, afraid to move. His heart was beating louder than mine, drowning out all other sounds around us. “I can hold you close, without hesitation.” His jaw tightened against mine.
My breathing became erratic. I felt as though I were going to pass out. Beads of sweat were forming all over my body.
“I could make love to you . . .” Despite my protests, his mouth took mine. He held me to him, kissing me passionately. His soft lips moved over mine eagerly. They didn’t require any participation on my part. Under other circumstances, in another life perhaps . . . it would have knocked my socks off. As it was . . .
I pushed at him again and again. He finally released my lips, but not his hold.
“Damen, you can’t do that.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “I don’t love you.”
“That wasn’t always the case,” he implied, a dark tone to his voice.
“What does that mean?”
He smiled flatly. “It means that I have a problem to remove; one that will free you.”
My heart stopped. “Damen, if you hurt Marcus in any way, I’ll kill you myself!”
His smile frightened me. “That’s my girl.” His mouth claimed mine again. His kiss was heady, wanton, and taking me completely by surprise. I almost forgot who was kissing me for a moment—almost.
I pushed off his body as hard as I could, trying to free myself. He released his hold on me, sending me tumbling backward into the freezing pond with a loud splash.
“YOU JERK!” I screamed, as soon as I surfaced. “It’s bad enough you keep forcing yourself on me, do you have to throw me in a f-freezing, cold, p-pond as well?” I stammered while smashing the water with my fists.
“Let me help you,” Damen laughed, his smile touching his eyes. All signs of aggression were gone. He extended his hand to me.
“Are you kidding? Get away from me!” I splashed the water in his direction, missing him completely.
“Phoebe, be reasonable, you know it was an accident,” he chuckled.
I looked at him loathingly. If I could spit fire I would have.
“Phoebe please, come out of the water, you’ll catch your death.” His laughter was subsiding.
“I mean it, Damen. Stay away from me.” With considerable effort, I got out of the pond by myself and stormed past him—water dripping from my clothes. My running shoes were water logged now, squeaking with every step. “I just bought these shoes!” I whined.
“I’ll replace them. And anything else you need. Marcus isn’t the only one with money,” he smirked.
“I’m not with him because of his money,” I growled, stomping off in a rage.
“Phoebe . . .” he called after me. “Phoebe, wait!” His voice was sharp. He caught me by the elbow and spun me around. “Enough of this! I’m not leaving here without you.”
I glared at him defiantly.
“Knowing he’s in your bed at night, that he could kill you at any moment . . . It should be me with you. Not him!”
I kicked his shin, causing a loud cracking sound.
“Ow!” He grabbed his leg, releasing my arm.
I turned and ran as fast as I could. I didn’t look back. I was freezing, soaked from head to toe, and being pursued like some animal. I could feel Damen close behind me. I forced myself to run faster.
“Phoebe!”
I couldn’t look. My heart was pounding in my throat; if I could only make it through the trees . . .
“Phoebe, wait!” Damen growled.
I came rushing onto the lawn, running uncontrollably toward the castle. My legs burned beneath me. I panted loudly, wheezing as I took in each breath.
“Marcus!”
I pushed myself to run harder.
“MARCUS!”
Marcus came bursting out the doors and across the lawn at a tremendous speed. I could see the look of fear in his eyes as I came crashing into his body—a soaking wet sponge of pond water.
“He’s here!” I cried into his shirt.
He held my face in between his hands. His eyes looked wildly into mine. “Who?”
“Damen . . .” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “He’s right behind me. He threw me in the pond!”