Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy (6 page)

Reluctantly, my eyes met his. Marcus had turned his head so that I couldn’t see him smile. I glared at him, annoyed that he found this funny.

He cleared his throat and composed his face as he turned back toward me. “Are you ready to let me help you?” he asked. He turned his head quickly, trying to hide a smile.

“Bathroom—top shelf!” I pointed toward the bathroom.

He came back with my first aid kit still smiling. “I think we’d better wrap your hands first. You may need them if you try to get off the couch again.”

“Very funny,” I frowned.

He took my hands carefully, wrinkling his nose as he examined them. His eyes grew darker as he stared at the drying blood.

I gently slipped my hands out of his. “I can do it,” I said quietly.

“No. I can help you.”

“They’re really not that bad,” I said as I started squeezing on the Neosporin tube.

He un-wrapped a Band-aid for me and softly placed it on the palm of my hand, being careful not to touch any of the blood.

“You see, I can do this,” he stated proudly. He was trying so hard to help me that he was willing to endure what clearly made him sick. Who was this guy? I smiled to myself.

My hands were the easy part, and my elbows hurt worse than they looked. There was however a large scrape across my stomach that was still bleeding lightly. I winced as I pulled the material away from the wound.

Marcus cringed. He closed his eyes, got up and walked to the other side of the room. He was looking out my window, his hands in fists on either side of the frame, holding on for support.

“Are you okay?” I asked after a few minutes.

“Blood . . . has a different effect on me than most.” His voice sounded different, not his own.

“Is your throat alright; your voice sounds funny, almost raspy. You’re not getting sick are you?” I worried.

“No! Are you ready to look at your leg?” he asked impatiently.

“No I’m not,” I answered quickly.

He turned to me; his face was strained, but it was softening as he could see that I was done bandaging my stomach.

“Why don’t you want to take care of your leg?” He looked perplexed.

“Several reasons.” I shifted uneasily.

He looked down on me, folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

“I can’t get my pants off, without them rubbing across my knees.”

He frowned at me, interrupting my train of thought.

“It’ll hurt!” I insisted.

He looked at me with disbelief. There was no question he thought I was a wimp; I was sure of it. He should talk. I wasn’t the one freaking out over a little blood. Well, not much anyway.

“If your leg was ripped open, you wouldn’t want to scrape denim across it either!” I added defensively.

“And reason number two?” he asked, looking not very hopeful after hearing reason number one.

I looked away. I didn’t want to see his face. “I’ll just wait until you’ve gone. I don’t want to gross you out any more than I have,” I said in almost a whisper. I could feel my face heating with embarrassment.

His fingers lightly took my chin. I hadn’t even heard him move. Marcus turned my head so that I had no choice but to look up into his glorious face.

“You don’t  . . . ‘gross’ me out.” He smiled softly as he repeated my phraseology. He knelt down beside me.

“Maybe not
me
personally, but I know all this . . . ” I pointed to my arms and held up my hands for him to see the many Band-aids that now covered me, “. . . makes you sick.”

I could feel the tears starting to build up in my eyes. I held them back. I felt so bad for him, trying to help me when it clearly made him ill . . . and me being such a wimp about being hurt. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. This had to be the most painful fall I’d ever taken. Why did it have to happen in front of Marcus?

He cracked a smile. “I think I can get your pants off quickly enough.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that before,” I muttered sarcastically.

Marcus shot me a disapproving look. “Hmm . . .” He reached out and began to unbutton my jeans.

I put my hands on top of his to stop him. Embarrassment once again, coating my cheeks, while worry filled my eyes.

“I promise,” he spoke tenderly. “It will not hurt.”

My grip loosened, I didn’t understand why I trusted him so much. I knew they had to come off, but my tolerance for pain was extremely low. I closed my eyes tight.

I felt a quick pull at my zipper, and then a loud
rip
!

My eyes popped open as I looked at my naked and badly bloodied leg. Marcus turned his head, averting his eyes. I hastily pulled the denim back over my lower half, covering my underwear.

“How did you do that?” I gasped.

“I’m really strong,” he shrugged, looking back at me.

My chance to marvel at his super human strength was short lived. My legs were worse than I’d thought. They were scraped from my knees down both shins. The more severe cut on my right thigh was bleeding heavily now that the pants were no longer there to clot it.

Marcus's eyes fixed on this particular area. He instantly flinched away from me. His nose wrinkled as his lips started to curl up over his teeth. A dull hiss escaped from within him. He turned abruptly so I couldn’t see his face.

I instinctively pulled my legs back, ignoring the pain as I tried to move myself into the couch as much as possible. Every instinct I had told me to run, but I was frozen. My mind raced as I tried to understand what was happening.

“I can’t help you,” he hissed.

“It’s . . . ok,” I said shakily. “Y—you don’t have to stay, I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t want to leave you without explaining.” I could hear the pain in his voice. “I’ll be back when you’re finished.” He moved so fast through my door that if my eyes had been relaxed enough to blink, I’d have missed it.

I sat on the couch motionless, completely in shock. My eyes darted around me, my heart beating wildly. What was going on? Marcus acted like some kind of feral animal, hissing? That was not normal. I took a deep breath and sighed with relief that he was gone.

My leg. I needed to take care of my leg. I moved my arm an accidentally bumped my wound with my elbow. “Damn it!” I pulled the rest of my pants off and launched them across the room with as much force as I could muster. Mad that I’d been so careless.

I tried to put pressure around the cut to see just how badly it was bleeding. I probably needed stitches, I growled mentally. I began cleaning and bandaging my leg as best I could. My knees received a few small Band-aids but mostly they were covered in scrapes like my shins.

I leaned back on a pillow, closed my eyes, and wondered if I would see Marcus again. Did I really want to see him again? On one hand, I felt drawn to him for some unexplainable reason; I wanted him close to me. I needed him. On the other hand, I was afraid of him. All sense I had told me he was dangerous, that I should run . . .

I heard a quiet knock at the door. I stared it for a minute before it began to open.

Marcus peeked his head through. “May I come in?” His face looked as calm and as beautiful as it did when I first saw him this morning leaning against his bike. I watched him closely to see if any part of him resembled the Marcus that scared me—the Marcus that left me no more than half an hour ago—this was not that Marcus.

I nodded yes.

He walked in slowly, as if approaching me with caution. His hands extended like he was stopping traffic. My body tensed up as he drew nearer.

“I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I want to explain so many things, but I don’t think you could handle it all at once.” His face looked torn.

I couldn’t speak. I wanted to say I wasn’t afraid of him, but I couldn’t. I had seen something in his eyes. And, although the eyes that were looking at me now were soft and kind, the ones I couldn’t get out of my mind were deadly. There was a dark, unnatural side to Marcus that much was certain, and it scared me.

He was only a few feet into the living room, his hands still extended out to me. “Phoebe, it pains me to see you so afraid of me.”

I could hear the hurt in his voice as he said this. He seemed to truly care for me, to want to protect me, even from himself.

I shifted uneasily on the couch. “I’m all cleaned up,” I said, offering him a small smile.

He lowered his hands and smiled gratefully. Still moving slowly, he walked around to the front of the couch and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were fixed on me. He looked stunned.

I became instantly aware and horrified all at once. I had been so distracted by Marcus's reaction and bandaging myself up that when he knocked on the door, I had forgotten that I wasn’t dressed yet.

There I was on the couch with nothing on but a tank top and underwear—covered here and there in Band-aids and gauze.

I saw his jolted expression at how exposed I was—it was nothing compared to mine.

“I, uh,” I stammered. “I didn’t have time to get dressed! Don’t look!” I jumped up—rolling completely off the couch, landing on my face.

I lay there motionless, bottoms up, wishing I were dead. “There is
no
dignified way out of this. None!” I mumbled into the carpet.

Marcus scooped me up and put me back on the couch without so much as a smirk. His eyes wandered the room for a moment before settling on an open door.

“Wait here.” He dashed to my bedroom and returned with a quilted blanket from my bed.

He’d draped it over my legs and was tucking it around my waist when I put my hand on his bicep. He stopped abruptly, not looking at me. I tilted my head to the side. His eyes reluctantly met mine. They were a deep chocolaty brown now. No hint of anger tainting them.

My eyes dropped to his lips. I could feel his cool breath escaping them, kissing mine. My pulse quickened. “Thank you,” I breathed.

I wanted to kiss him . . . I was certain he wanted to kiss me too. I sat there, frozen once again. Only this time it wasn’t from fear. The only movement from my body was my breathing in and out.

He stayed there leaning over me . . . so close but never touching. I watched his lips hovering over mine. “You’re welcome,” they whispered back. He pulled away abruptly and took a seat beside the couch.

I placed my hand subtly over my heart, trying to slow it. What was wrong with me? I’d been close to guys before, but never had I been so drawn to one.

“Am I safe to assume that you won’t be working tomorrow?” He pointed to my legs.

I laughed a little. “I guess not.” I was glad that the conversation had taken a lighter tone. “Although,” I continued, “I’d rather not be home in case that wolf comes back.” I shuddered as I remembered Brian’s offer of protection.

Marcus's expression was unreadable. “What wolf?”

“Oh,” I waved him off. “Brian said a wolf killed some chickens and a goat down the road last night.” I paused for a second as I watched his face; he looked concerned now. “I just got a little scared when you were talking about the wolf problem in London, and when I heard a wolf was near my house, I just . . .” I hated to admit it out loud. “I just thought maybe it was the same wolf that bit me, and it’s followed me here.” I shook my head at such an absurd thought. “I know it’s crazy,” I added, dismissing it. “Marcus?” His eyes were jet black. Not the soft brown as before. “You’re scaring me.” I felt myself scooting into the couch cushions once again.

He quickly gained control of himself, clearly forcing a smile. “Phoebe, I’ve only been here a little while. Do you know when the last full moon was?” he asked as if this was a normal question.

“What? I . . . don’t know . . . I don’t keep track of lunar activity,” I said taken aback by the question. “Why?”

He didn’t answer. He sat there, looking thoughtful.

“I have a calendar on the kitchen wall, it might say—”

He was up and in the kitchen before I’d finished my sentence.

I sat open mouthed. “What in the hell?” I thought to myself.

The wind picked up outside. I’d heard earlier on the news a storm was coming, and heavy rain was in the forecast. I looked over to my living room window. The rain had already begun to tap against it. I watched the water drops running down the windowpane. And that’s when I noticed a pair of yellow eyes peering in at me.

Marcus came running into the living room at the same moment that I began screaming. He was beside me instantly, hovering over me protectively.

“The window!” I screamed.

It was still at the window—growling ferociously at the sight of Marcus.

“Wait here!”

“MARCUS!” I yelled after him, but he was gone.

I pulled the blanket around me tightly. My mind was racing. I jumped at every sound. Several dark windows in the room stared back at me. Too scared to get up and close the curtains, I pulled the blanket up higher over my head, blocking them from my view.

How could Marcus just run out there like that? What was he planning to do anyway? He could be hurt or killed! I was going crazy with worry.

My door flung open suddenly. The wind and the rain rushed into my living room, as I screamed from under the blanket.

“Phoebe it’s me!”

I peeked out as Marcus hurried over to me. His hair was soaked, and his clothes were dripping wet.

“Marcus!” Without thinking, I jumped up from the couch, threw my arms around his shoulders, and hugged him tightly; ignoring the water that was dripping all over me. “I can’t believe you went out there; you could have been killed!” I scolded, as I held him tighter to me. I didn’t understand why, but I couldn’t bear to think that I might not have seen him again.

I could feel his arms around my waist, holding me gently. “I’m fine,” he assured, though his voice cracked slightly.

“What was that thing?” I asked, still not loosening my grip around him.

“A wolf!”

I pulled back, staring at him in disbelief. “That couldn’t have been a wolf.” I wrapped my blanket around me tighter. “It would have to be gigantic!”

Marcus caught me as my legs began to wobble. “You’d better sit down.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, my eyes were still fixed on his. With one hand holding onto my blanket, I reached out with the other and gripped his arm. “Where is it now?” I looked toward the window, panic rising up within me.

“Gone; I tracked it a few miles away from here. It’s still running north.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into him. I took a deep calming breath, trying to settle my nerves. I could feel Marcus’s body stiffen suddenly. I opened my eyes. A look of surprise swept across his face.

“What is it?” I whispered. Fear was creeping up on me again. I looked at the window and then back at Marcus. Had he seen or heard something I didn’t?

His hands began moving slowly down the side of my hips. I could feel goose bumps through the blanket, as his fingertips glided over it, as though it were my bare skin. My pulse began to race as I sunk deeper into his stare.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to touch you like that.” He looked away, releasing my eyes.

Embarrassment swept over me. In my absolute elation when Marcus walked back through the door, I’d jumped up to embrace him—I never thought it might make him uncomfortable. “Marcus,” my cheeks flushed scarlet. “Excuse me. I was just so happy you were alright, I didn’t think . . .”

I tried to back away from him, but he held my body tight. A hundred different emotions seemed to reflect back at me.

“Marcus?” My voice was shaky.

He looked longingly into my eyes. “I never thought I would ever get the chance to hold you this way again.” His thoughts were far away, like he was talking about some distant memory.

His hands were moving to the small of my back now, where my blanket had fallen. The cool touch of his fingers met my skin as they moved slowly up my spine, pausing in the middle. My breathing grew shorter. He lowered his head closer to mine. My pulse quickened as he pulled my body against his.

“I can feel your heart beat,” he mused.

He brought his forehead to mine. The touch was electric. I could feel my legs burning now—they wouldn’t hold me much longer.

His eyes were growing darker. Specks of crimson now swirled among the black, as he looked deeper into my eyes, holding me in a dream-like trance. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.

He gently pressed his lips to my forehead, causing my heart to skip. I could feel him smiling as he moved his face along mine, lightly tracing my skin with his nose. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled; his cool breath blowing across my face. It smelt delicious . . .

My instincts were telling me this was dangerous, that I should run for my life. My heart was telling me not to ever let go. I struggled for the words I needed to say, but my mind was racing along with my heart. I wanted to kiss him more than anything.

“Phoebe?” he whispered my name into my ear. His voice was like velvet, soft and smooth.

I swallowed and tried to remember how to answer. “Yes,” I said quietly.

“You don’t know what I was going to ask you,” he said with a smile.

I couldn’t speak. I was putting all my strength into standing, and not passing out, I couldn’t concentrate. My mind wouldn’t do simple conversation.

His face was buried in my hair now. He moved his lips along my ear, kissing it softly, and my world began to spin. 

“Phoebe . . .” his voice was hypnotic.

I jerked my face toward his, the side of our lips touched, and I could feel Marcus's lips tremble next to mine; his breathing, heavy like my own. His hands were wrapped around my waist, holding it firmly. I was afraid to move, afraid that if I did he’d pull away. Never had I wanted to kiss someone so much in all my life.

“I want to kiss you Phoebe; you can’t imagine how badly. It’s just that I . . .” his words broke off in anguish as he slowly backed away from me, his hands reluctantly releasing their hold.

I sunk back onto the couch in disbelief, my heart still pounding . . . I suddenly felt self-conscious. “You don’t have to explain,” I said shyly. “I guess I misunderstood.” I pretended to be busy adjusting my blanket over me. A tear escaped from the corner of my eye. I wiped it away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Marcus walked back to me and knelt down beside me. His hands were on the sides of my face cupping it gently so that my eyes couldn’t escape his.