Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy (7 page)

“You didn’t misunderstand. I do want to kiss you,” he said as he smoothed his thumb across my lips. “I just can’t be with you that way, not without hurting you. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you.” His voice sounded as tortured as he looked.

“I don’t understand? Did I do something wrong? Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked reluctantly the thought just popping to mind.

“No!” I could see the frustration building in his face.

“Marcus, you can tell me anything,” I encouraged. My eyes looked hopefully into his.

“It’s so hard for me to be this close to you and not hold you the way I want to. To not kiss your lips the way I used to . . .” I could see the uneasiness in his eyes. He had said more than he’d planned to. He backed away from me again, turning toward the window so I couldn’t see his face.

“The way you used to?” I repeated. “Marcus, I think I’d remember if I’d kissed you before.”

He said nothing but continued to stare out into the rain.

“I don’t understand. Are you trying to tell me that we’ve had some sort of relationship before that I don’t remember?”

I stared at the back of his head, waiting for an answer. He finally turned around. His face looked more troubled than I’d ever seen it.

“Phoebe,” he began sounding tired now. “You mentioned that you have been having strange dreams since you were attacked that night back in London?”

My face wrinkled in confusion. I thought back on the many dreams I’d had since that night—too many. Some so vivid that I’d wake in a sweat, screaming at times. I nodded. “They’re more like nightmares,” I said with a shudder.

“Would you tell me about them?”

“I’d rather not.” I shifted uncomfortably.

“Please.” I could see the resolve on his face. He wasn’t going to let this go for some reason. I gave him a defeated look.

“It’s the same dream over and over really,” I began. “I’m running, at least I think it’s me? The girl, in my dreams, she looks just like me,” I said defensively, as if he’d argued the point. “Something is chasing me. I can feel it getting closer and closer . . .” I subconsciously pulled my legs to my body.

Marcus's face was paler than normal. He didn’t look entirely surprised at what he was hearing—like this was a nightmare he was all too familiar with. I stared at him curiously. He said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

“I’m screaming something . . . someone’s name I think. I don’t know whose. I can’t ever hear it.” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to recall the memory. My eyes went wide. “The growling,” I breathed. “It was just like . . .” I put my hand over my mouth and looked back toward the window, and then to Marcus.

He looked uneasily at me.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” my voice cracked. “He had me by the throat. I can actually remember feeling the cold,” I admitted as I put my arms around my shoulders, holding myself.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
It was just a dream
I kept reminding myself—a very vivid dream of my horrific death, but still just a dream. A dream I never spoke of out loud to anyone, not even myself.

Marcus walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. “Phoebe, I’m so sorry for making you relive that.” His hands held my face now. He looked devastated. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to save you. I would have given my life for yours if I could have.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s just a dream,” I said wiping the tears off my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I was crying. I smiled flatly. I didn’t want to think about it any longer.

The sound of the clock chiming in the other room startled me. “Oh my gosh, it’s 8:30?” As if on cue, my stomach growled. I suddenly realized how hungry I was and forgot all about the odd mood Marcus was in. “You must be starving! I can fix us something to eat.”

“No, I’m fine. I ate when I stepped out a while ago,” he added, still staring at me uneasily.

“You did? Oh, well, if you don’t mind I’ll just be a minute.” I moved to get up.

“Would you like me to help you?” he asked.

“No!” I motioned for him to stay where he was. “I mean, no thank you,” I repeated softly. There was no way I was going to relive the last “close encounter” again so soon. It was too hard having Marcus holding me so closely. The effortless attraction I felt toward him unnerved me a little. Not to mention that he hadn’t shown me the same interest back. “I can do this myself.”

He smiled understandingly and stepped out of the way.

I very carefully pulled myself up, keeping the blanket wrapped around my waist. I held it tightly with one hand, and with my free hand, I reached out and grabbed each piece of furniture along the way with great effort. I was hunched over like an old woman, moving slowly but deliberately; my legs protesting every step of the way.

I glanced at Marcus. He was trying not to watch me—I think he was trying not to laugh, actually. I did my best to ignore him. I couldn’t afford any distractions.

I was almost to my bedroom door. I smiled confidently. I stretched my arm out as far as I could. My fingertips were almost touching the wall. I lunged . . . and missed!

Boom!
I was face down and in total agony. I moaned.

Marcus rushed over to save me from myself as he’d done so many times today.

“Just leave me here,” I protested his help. “I’ll crawl to the bedroom.” I buried my face once again in the carpet.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to my room, gently setting me on the end of my bed. He was smiling as though he were amused.

“Something funny?” I asked.

He shook his head, but the smirk on his face gave him away. “It comforts me to know that you are just as you’ve always been.” He laughed out loud now. It was only the second time I could recall him laughing so heartily . . . under any other circumstance it would have been welcomed.

“I’m not always incapacitated!” I thundered. “I did fall off a cliff today, or did you forget?” I was angry now. How could he make fun of me like that?

“And your temper hasn’t changed much either,” he said still laughing.

“What are you talking about?” I yelled as I chucked a pillow at his head. “I don’t have a temper!”

He dodged it effortlessly. “No.” He laughed harder now. “You never did!”

I knew there was a double meaning here. But I was too angry to bother trying to figure it out.

“If you don’t mind,” I pointed sharply at my bedroom door. “Would you please get my robe from the back of the door?”

He grabbed my robe and held it out to me. His face still held a crooked smile. He was clearly trying to suppress his laughter.

I snatched the robe abruptly from his hands and put it on.

“Now you don’t have to be grossed out looking at my mangled body!” I mumbled under my breath. Him brushing me off in the living room still smarted. “I’m sorry to have embarrassed you!”

I tied the robe securely around my waist before I looked up into his face. He looked as though he’d just been slapped.

I suddenly felt ashamed.

“Maybe that was a little rude of me. Sorry,” I apologized through gritted teeth. I evaded his stare. How is that fair? He laughs at me, and I’m the one apologizing?

“Phoebe, you misunderstand me completely.” All sign of humor was gone. “Nothing about you embarrasses me. You’re absolutely beautiful—scrapes, bruises, covered in Band-aids . . .” he looked at me lovingly. “I don’t care what you look like. I’m just so happy you’re alive!”

I frowned.

“As for my assumed embarrassment . . .” he moved closer to me, his hand gently caressing my cheek. I could feel my heart begin to race again at the touch of his skin on mine. “I was taken by surprise seeing you so . . . exposed again. Feeling your skin so close to mine . . .”

I closed my eyes as his fingertips trickled down my neck. His touch was strangely familiar, and I found myself leaning into it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you . . . held you . . .”

His fingers brushed my lips, causing a breath of air that I hadn’t known I was holding to escape. My heart felt like it could burst at any moment.

“I have to be so careful with you now,” he spoke tenderly as his eyes looked deeper and deeper into mine. “There is so much I want to tell you, so much I need to explain . . .” he spoke softer still. His voice lulling me. He could have asked me to jump off a cliff, and I wouldn’t have argued. “For now . . . you need to eat.” He broke his stare and I snapped out of my drunken state.

My legs wobbled as I tried to get up. I couldn’t quite shake the disoriented feeling I had.

As if sensing my confusion, Marcus offered to help me into the kitchen. “We don’t want you to fall on your face again,” he teased as he put his arm around my waist.

I let him help me. No, we did
not
want to fall on our face again. I thought to myself.

“Now, what may I get for you this evening?” he asked like he was a waiter at a fine restaurant.

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. I found it hard to stay mad at Marcus when he was being so incredibly charming.

“I’ll have the left over Vhow Mein in the fridge,” I said still grinning.

He picked up the Chinese carryout carton, printed with dragons and pagodas, and looked back at me questioningly.

“The forks are in the top drawer by the sink,” I added.

He nodded as he went to the drawer.

“I’ll just eat it out of the carton; unless you want some?” I offered.

“No, thank you.” He wrinkled his nose as he handed it to me.

“I got it yesterday. It’s not old!” I said defensively as I sniffed the chow mein to make sure it didn’t stink.

“No, it’s not that,” he insisted.

“Then what?”

“I just don’t like Chinese food.”

I watched Marcus curiously as he fidgeted in his chair.

“Phoebe?” he asked casually his eyes still evading mine. Have you noticed anything . . . different about me?”

“Yeah, you don’t like Chinese food,” I said in disbelief. I took a small bite of my vegetable chow mein—I loved it cold.

Marcus frowned at me from across the table.

“Ok,” I conceded. “There are lots of things different about you.”

He watched me in silence, as he seemed to be considering something. “Yes, well, I’m speaking about anything
extraordinarily
different,” he clarified.

I took another bite. I didn’t realize just how hungry I had been. I chewed while I deliberated over my response.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” I continued to chew. “There’s soda in the fridge.” It wasn’t very polite, but I was starving.

He had my soda in front of me before I could finish rationalizing my bad table manners.

“Thank you,” I said as I opened the bottle and took a drink. “Would you like one?”

“No thank you.” He sat down again and waited for me to continue.

“You look at me like I’m some long lost love,” I practically blurted out the words, catching him and myself off guard. He opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. “I’ve only been with you for a day, but you make me feel like we’ve spent a lifetime together . . . a lifetime I don’t remember,” I added softly dropping my eyes before I met his square on. “But you do remember it, don’t you?” My voice was barely a whisper.

He didn’t have to answer. I saw it in his eyes.

“You’re unlike any man I’ve ever known. Any
human
for that matter,” I added offhandedly. “Aside from the fact, that you’re a gentleman.”

He raised his eyebrows a little.

“A rare quality these days,” I explained, a hint of sarcasm coated my words.

I watched Marcus for a moment as he stirred uneasily in his chair. It was odd to see him looking so uncomfortable. He always appeared to be so sure of himself.

“I’ve never seen anyone with reflexes as fast as yours.” I continued. “I still don’t know how you saved me from falling down the cliff,” I added, further validating my point. “Or from that shark.” I took another bite. I wasn’t so much hungry now as I was needing an excuse not to look at him.

Marcus kept his face even, his eyes carefully watching me as I fidgeted with my food.

“You can fly . . . I think?” I paused hearing the absurdness in what I’d just said; but still, I couldn’t deny my instincts. I went on. “Your eyes change colors with your moods. You run off into the night to chase down wild animals. You growl, hiss, become physically ill around blood,” I half laughed to myself. How could anyone so strong have a reaction like that to blood? “Yes, I
have
noticed something different about you,” I mused as I took another bite.

He could see that I was debating something. His expression became guarded.

I quickly shook the thought away.

“What is it?” he urged, forcing a smile on his face; he looked just as nervous as I was.

“Forget it. It’s too embarrassing. I can’t believe I’d actually considered it.” I took another bite.

“Tell me,” he urged again. His face still held a faint smile.

I bit my lip, considering how stupid I was about to sound. “It’s only one of the theories,” I admitted with rose-colored cheeks. “Could you . . . I don’t know . . . ” I looked around the room, finally settling my eyes on the table before me. “Could you lift this table up . . . with one hand?” I continued to bite at my lip nervously.

“Can I what?” He looked stunned. He stared at me blankly as if he’d misheard me.

“You know, lift heavy objects? Punch a hole through a brick wall? Fly through the air?” I frowned, irritated by his vacant expression. Clearly he was going to make me spell it out. “Fight the forces of evil, and all that good stuff,” I explained.

“You think I’m a super hero?” he asked, his face full of wonder.

“Yes . . . maybe?” My voice didn’t sound as confident as before. The idea sounded much better in my head. “It’s better than the alternative.” I shivered.

“I’m afraid to ask now,” he frowned again.

“Oh come on, it can’t be that farfetched?” I argued. “You dove over the side of a cliff, rescued me from a fatal fall, and carried my battered body back home. All in a matter of minutes! That’s super hero stuff!”

He stared at me—expressionless.

“I’ve seen you fly across the room!” I insisted. “Well, sort of,” I admitted softly, noting the disapproving stare that now hung on his face.

“The other conclusion?” He asked dryly, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if this conversation had suddenly become painful.

I huffed, deliberating whether or not I should continue.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

“Alright, but don’t get mad.” I took a deep breath. “I thought maybe you might be . . . a wolf?” I whispered the last part, hoping that by not saying it aloud would prevent him from thinking I was a lunatic.

“WOLF?”  His eyes popped open.

“I don’t mean a regular wolf,” I interjected quickly, “I mean a . . .” I couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud. “I mean you are human too, at least . . . I think so? So you must be . . . a
werewolf
?” I winced as I uttered the name. My shoulders rose above my ears cringing as I waited for the fallout. I didn’t have to wait long.

“WEREWOLF! You think I’m a WEREWOLF?” he yelled the name each time he said it. He looked livid. Clearly, he had not expected this assumption over all others. I couldn’t really blame him—it was completely crazy.

“Okay, okay, so you’re not a werewolf! Superman! Are you like Superman? He could fly! You don’t have to be
exactly
Superman but similar, right?” I was babbling, and grasping for anything to pull me out of the hole I was now in. “Please don’t tell me you’re like the Hulk. You just don’t strike me as the green type, although . . . that would explain the growling,” I teased nervously.

“You think I’m the wretched beast I hunt?” he yelled out, still dwelling on the unintentional slam on his character.

My mouth popped open. For the first time in my life, I was without speech.

He couldn’t avoid it now; he knew what was coming, and by the look on his face I knew he was bracing for it.

“I WAS BIT BY A WEREWOLF?” I yelled out in disbelief by Chinese carton falling to the floor.

He sat there across from me, his eyes closed now. His hand was pinching the bridge of his nose again. He shook his head back and forth. He wasn’t saying I was wrong.

“Marcus!” I yelled for his attention. “Was I bit by a . . . a werewolf?” I had trouble saying it out loud.

Nothing.

“Am I a werewolf?” I gasped. “Is that why you don’t want to . . .” I put my hands over my mouth. I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I was overwhelmed. It all made sense now, sort of. I stood up from my chair, and then sat back down. I didn’t know what to do.

“NO!” he yelled out.

I jumped in my seat. His face was fierce.

“No,” he repeated softer. “You are not . . . completely,” he gritted his teeth. I could see anger building in his eyes. “And I do want to!” he snapped at me as if that remark would distract me from the other.

“What do you mean ‘completely’?” I asked, making little quotes with my fingers in the air.

“It’s complicated.”

I pushed myself up from the table. “Now you listen to me Marcus Ashworth, you un-complicate it fast. You don’t just show up out of nowhere, spend the day with me, and finish it off with announcing that I’m not ‘completely’ a werewolf! Oh my God!” I slapped my hand over my mouth again. “Did I kill those chickens up the road . . . and that poor goat?” I squeaked. “Is that why you wanted to know when the last full moon was?” I was beside myself. I sat down again, my hand still covering my mouth, trying to hold back the impulse to be sick.

Marcus was pulling me up into his arms. “You did not kill those animals,” he said as he yet again wiped away my tears. “You are not like the others—”

“Not like the others?” I interrupted. “This can’t be happening . . . This isn’t real! There. Are. No. Werewolves!” I shouted.

I was in the middle of a full breakdown; I could feel it. I ignored all sense of pain. I was numb all over. I pushed away from Marcus and ran clumsily out the front door into the night.

“Phoebe!”

The storm just added to my misery. I couldn’t tell the tears from the rain. My life as I knew it was over. I was a monster . . . not even human anymore. Marcus was a hunter and he was here to kill me—that had to be why he was here.

How long did I have before I would turn into some vile beast from hell? My friends, and family, I could never see them again. No one would ever be safe around me . . . not even Marcus. A deep void suddenly took hold of me. I could never be with him the way I wanted to. I was a fool to think he was in love me. Why would he be when he knew I was going to turn into a monster?

I ran until my legs couldn’t carry my weight anymore. I fell to my knees, defeated. The rain, taking no mercy on me, fell harder.

I would never get married or have children, I thought as the storm beat down on me. “Who’d want to be married to a rabid dog?” I shouted angrily into the darkness. “Who would ever want to love me now?” I cried. I could feel my heart breaking into a million pieces as I curled into a ball, and lay lifeless on the road, hoping a car would come along and run me over.

The rain continued to fall, but it didn’t bother me any longer. My tears had stopped. I stared off into the blackness; there was nothing left for me but death, and I waited impatiently for it.

I felt arms around me, pulling me up. Marcus was holding me. I didn’t want to run from him again. I rested my head on his chest. I needed someone to hold me, if only for a little while.