Authors: Nicole Grane
“You are not a rabid dog,” he said lovingly as his arms held me closer to him, shielding me from the wind. He started walking back toward the house.
“As for someone loving you, and wanting to marry you . . .” his voice cracked.
“I know,” I interrupted. “I understand now why you didn’t kiss me before . . . I don’t blame you. And I won’t be surprised when you have to kill me. It wouldn’t be safe to leave me alive,” I said hopelessly, accepting my fate.
“You should not have come out into the night alone.” His words were harsher than his tone. “It’s not safe.”
But by now we were walking through my living room and I was a wet dog, literally. He brought me into my bedroom and sat me on the bed, his eyes, meeting mine. “Stay here.”
Where was I going to go? My legs were limp noodles, and my will to live was gone.
He came back with some towels from the bathroom. He wrapped one around my shoulders, and with the other, began gently wiping my face dry. I sat there staring off into nothingness.
“Phoebe.” He shook me slightly.
I looked at him through blurred eyes.
“Phoebe, I’m not going to kill you,” he began. His eyes were soft, tender like his words. “I could never kill you. Even if you were a . . .” he didn’t finish. “You’re not a werewolf!” His words were absolute.
“But you said I was bit.” I grabbed onto his shoulders with both-hands, frantically searching his eyes.
He shifted uneasily at the sudden closeness of our faces. “Yes, but from what I can tell, the bite wasn’t deep enough,” he sighed as a blank expression took hold of me. “The venom couldn’t have had time to enter your bloodstream, at least not much of it anyway.”
His words seemed foreign to me.
“Phoebe!” He shook me to attention again, my mind desperately trying to make sense of his words. “Think! Has anything changed about you since you were bit?”
I tried to think. I thought about hearing the ocean earlier from the parking lot when we’d taken a ride to the beach.
“I can hear things far off in the distance . . . things that I hadn’t been able to hear yesterday,” I admitted.
“The full moon . . .” Marcus murmured to himself. “Is that all?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I could smell you earlier, when I stepped out my door,” I admitted bashfully.
“You could smell me?”
I nodded. “You smell like,” I took in a deep breath. “The air after it rains.” I couldn’t look at him, it sounded so corny.
“You can smell my scent.” It wasn’t a question. He was awestruck.
“Then there are the nightmares.” I continued. It’s almost as if they’re through the eyes of—”
“The wolf that bit you,” Marcus spoke knowingly. “It passed on its memories to you.”
He’d finished my thought. I stared at him incredulously. How could he possibly know that?
“Anything else?” he continued excitedly, ignoring my shaken expression.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Phoebe, your sight, hearing, and sense of smell have changed, but that’s all. Apart from the memories you’re recalling,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m not a . . .” I couldn’t believe I was saying it, “a werewolf?” I asked leaning closer, not wanting to chance anyone else hearing.
“No, you’re not.”
“I won’t turn into a dog and howl at the moon?”
“No,” he cracked a smile.
“Marcus, are you sure?” I could hear the desperation in my own voice.
“Yes. If you were going to turn into a werewolf, you’d have done it by now.” He spoke with great assurance.
Without hesitation, I threw my arms around his wet body. I was elated; I wasn’t going to die! I wasn’t going to turn into a monster from hell! I could hear the hallelujah chorus playing loudly in my head; until I felt the instant tension that seemed to move through him. Remembering myself, I loosened my grip, shrugging as I tried to pull away but his hold around me became tighter.
“Phoebe . . . ” Marcus’s cool breath blew across my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I still can’t do this . . .” His words were firm, but soft.
I let my hands drop into my lap. I felt his breathing become more erratic as I untied my soaking wet robe and let it fall from my body, my tank top mercifully still dry.
His eyes, a luscious shade of chocolate, wandered over my naked shoulders before they met mine again—a small glint of red now swirled through them.
I ignored the little voice in my head that told me to back away . . . I felt myself being pulled deeper into his stare. My hands moved involuntarily up his shirt. I could feel the tight ropes of muscle that made up his stomach and chest beneath my fingertips. He was a perfect masterpiece. God-like.
He moaned softly. His hand felt its way slowly down my side, resting itself on my thigh. He squeezed it gently, giving me a sensation of excitement and unexplainable fear, all at the same time. Still, I couldn’t pry myself from his arms, or ask him to let go. I was right where I wanted to be. His fingers had twined their way into my hair. I could feel him gently pulling my head back. I breathed heavily, while his lips glided along my throat, barely touching. He pressed his nose against my skin, inhaling deeply. I gasped, surprised by his sudden action. His hands were behind my back now, holding me to him, leaving very little air between us.
My eyes fell shut as I took in the sweet smell of his breath, the cool touch of his hands, and the soft uneven rhythm of his breathing . . .
“Phoebe,” he could barely speak my name. His voice sounded distant, like a dream. I didn’t open my eyes. I leaned into his kiss; my neck longed for his lips to touch it again.
He released me abruptly, pushing me off him.
I stared at him, dazed, as if I were drunk. I tried to collect my thoughts, but his eyes still held mine, drawing me in again.
“We have to stop this.” His words were sharp.
“What? Why?” I reached out to him, resting my hands on his chest. The very feel of him was electric. “You really don’t want me to stop, do you?” I asked playfully, still not breaking my stare.
He whirled me around so fast I landed on my back in the middle of the bed, his body on top of mine. He held his head down tight against my shoulder. I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
The sudden movement of my body under his as his fingers trickled down my side was more than he could stand. He moaned, the sound of it drawing me deeper under his spell.
My heart beat faster now with anticipation. I couldn’t explain the wild attraction I felt for him. The raw need I had, to be possessed by him, physically. But also, a feeling of going home. I’d loved Marcus before; I could feel it.
“I can’t,” he shook his head. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice sounded frustrated, almost tortured.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I panted under the weight of his body. He lifted up slightly as he realized my struggle. I moved my hands over his shoulders and down his arms.
“This can’t be happening . . .” He whispered. “This isn’t real.
You
can’t be real.”
I found his hand resting on my hip. I rubbed my fingers across the top of it and gave it a gentle squeeze. He tensed as I drew it up to my chest and placed it on my heart. “This
is
real!” I whispered a kiss across his ear. I knew he could feel every beat of my heart.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” His tone was firm. “You’re making it impossible for me.”
“That was the idea,” I admitted bashfully. “I feel so comfortable, so safe with you.”
“Don’t!”
The harshness of his tone should have frightened me, but it didn’t. “I feel like I’ve known you forever,” I said, ignoring his warning. “I feel like we’ve been here before . . . close, like this.” I lightly pressed my face against his cheek and inhaled . . . filling every part of my soul with him. I felt deliciously dizzy. I let go of his hand and with great effort, lifted his head away from my neck.
“Marcus, open your eyes . . . please.”
“I can’t.” His voice was shaky. “I’ll scare you.”
I stared at his unprotected lips and decided to take a chance. I pressed my lips against his. It was like a surge of electricity had run through us. My mouth touching his seemed to jump-start his heart. My hands held his face as he kissed me intensely, almost wildly. It was as if he’d been waiting all his life for this moment, our lips were finally touching and he couldn’t deny himself any longer.
His mouth fit mine perfectly. Our lips seemed to know each other. They moved together, anticipating every touch. His hand was moving down my waist and around my thigh now. Instinctively I wrapped my leg around his hip and gave him a gentle squeeze, my battered body long forgotten.
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He put his arm under my back sharply and pulled my body tighter to his. His kissing was much more aggressive; I knew I’d won him over.
I held onto him, meeting every kiss eagerly. My heart pounded erratically, I had never expected our first kiss to be so powerful. I didn’t want it to end.
His lips drifted from my mouth, leaving me gasping for air as they traveled over every inch of my neck, searching for the perfect spot to rest, but they never did. He worked his way down the base of my throat, pausing momentarily to watch my chest rise up and down with each breath I longed for. He glanced at me with dark amber eyes. My mouth popped open; a feeling of fear washed over me once again. He didn’t let it linger. He quickly pulled me back to him. His lips claiming mine with such ferocity, I melted into his embrace. I wanted him desperately; the way I felt he wanted me.
I couldn’t breathe . . . I put my hands up to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin. I tried to push him away. He misunderstood my heart’s sudden reaction; his kisses became more passionate as he pulled me closer still.
My legs loosened their hold around him. The ringing in my ears was the only sound I could hear . . .
“Phoebe! Phoebe, can you hear me?” I could feel my body being shaken softly as Marcus anxiously called out my name. “PHOEBE!” he shouted out again, slightly louder now.
My eyes flickered slowly, trying to regain focus. I could just barely make out his silhouette hovering over me. I could see his troubled face now as he moved my head from side to side examining my neck, searching for something. He looked at my shoulders, frantically searching. His eyes darted back to mine—they were full of fear. “Are you alright?” he asked urgently.
“I think so.” I still felt disoriented.
“You scared me. I thought I . . .” his voice trailed off as he looked my body over once again.
“What are you looking for?” I asked a little annoyed.
He put his hands around my face, cupping it gently. “Never scare me like that again!” he commanded.
“I’m sorry,” a tear leaked out the corner of my eye.
“No, no. It’s alright,” he assured quickly. “I didn’t hurt you.”
“Didn’t hurt me?” I was so embarrassed. “What are you talking about? I ruined everything,” I said through tears. His face looked completely shocked. “I couldn’t breathe right. My heart was pounding so fast, I . . .”
He drew me up into his arms and gently rocked me like a child. “I’m sorry I took your breath away,” he mused.
I shook my head. “I didn’t do that right,” I cried. “I’ve never been with anyone like that before. I wanted you to be my first . . .” I cried into his chest, overcome with embarrassment.