Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy (9 page)

He stopped rocking me.

I glanced up into his face. He had a blank expression. His eyes drifted down to meet mine.

“You’ve never . . . been with anyone . . . intimately?” He spoke each word slowly so that I couldn’t misunderstand the question.

“No,” I squeaked. I was mortified. Marcus had to think I was an emotional wreck. I expected him to run out the door any minute.

He stared at me, his eyes soft and full of wonder. “Please, don’t misunderstand me, but why ever not?”

I was sniffling now, surprised by his line of questioning. I looked up into his face. “I never found anyone I was
comfortable
with,” I admitted.

His eyes widened. “You’re . . . ‘comfortable’ with me?” His face held mixed emotions.

“Yes.”

A strange expression claimed him. He hadn’t liked what I’d said. He stared at me apprehensively.

“I’ve had boyfriends. It’s not that they didn’t try, that I haven’t been close before,” I said defensively. I didn’t want him to think I was completely naive. “I’ve just been waiting for someone my soul connected with.”

“Your soul connected with
mine
?” His voice was barely a whisper.

My eyes were as low as they could go. I couldn’t look him in the face now. All my cards were on the table. I was exposed and completely open for heartbreak. This was a disaster of epic proportion. I’d been too honest. This was too intense for a first date. This whole day had been too intense for a first date. I’ve never jumped into bed with anyone I’d just met. But I didn’t feel that way with Marcus. My soul was telling me I knew him. Somehow I knew him, and that I was his. With everything that had happened, my time with Marcus had to be ticking away. I fully expected him to run screaming from my house at any moment.

“You’ve . . . never?” He was truly in shock.

I took a deep breath. “Never,” I breathed out.

Marcus remained speechless.

“You must think I’m completely weird,” I said, rolling my eyes slightly.

He shook his head. His eyes were full of excitement. He looked overjoyed as he pulled my face to his and kissed my lips softer, but just as eagerly as he had before.

I was taken aback. It took me a few moments to realize that I was back in his arms. My lips remembered what to do.

He gently pulled back. A look of peace reflected back at me. “I can’t believe you’ve waited for me all this time? That you’ve never loved another!” He was elated.

“I didn’t know when I’d find you,” I admitted shyly.

He smiled. “Are you truly alright?” he asked, sounding worried again.

“Yes, I’m fine . . . just embarrassed.” I blushed, dropping my stare once again. “I keep passing out on you.”

His finger caught my chin, lifting it to meet his stare. He smiled kindly. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not with me . . . never with me.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and cradled me against his chest, his hand soothingly stroking my hair.

I closed my eyes and smiled, as I felt the love and safety of his embrace.

I put my hand over my mouth as I yawned unexpectedly.

“It’s late,” Marcus said as he rose from the bed. “You’ve had an unusually long day,”

“NO!” I grabbed his arm, pulling him back beside me. I felt suddenly flushed. I didn’t want to tell him, but I knew that my reaction to him leaving would not be swept under the rug.

He gave me a quizzical look.

“I’m afraid to go to sleep,” I admitted. “I don’t want to dream anymore, and I don’t want to be asleep if that monster comes back.” I felt myself nearing hysterics.

Marcus reached out, placing his hands at the base of my neck. His fingers gently rubbed, as if trying to sooth me—it didn’t work.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do? How would I fight it? Do I need a gun—are we talking silver bullets? Marcus, I’m not that good with a gun, and if it comes to sword fighting like in my dream . . . ”

He put his hand over my mouth, silencing me. His face grew serious, his eyes flashing black with anger. “He’ll never touch you.”

I found myself inching slowly away from him. His words made me cringe, and although they were not meant for me, they terrified me, almost as much as the look on his face.

“Phoebe I’m sorry,” he reached out quickly, taking my hand in his, and pulling me back to him. “I don’t want you to fear me.” His eyes were a soft brown again. Tender, like his words. I didn’t doubt that he meant them. But still . . . there was something strange and familiar about his eyes. About the way he looked at me.

“What is it?” he asked.

 My thoughts darted around my mind, back to my kitchen when he asked if I had noticed anything different about him. I had been distracted, but now . . . I gasped, as I began to fit the pieces together. “Your eyes,” I breathed. “They change colors with your mood.”

His face paled. He watched me anxiously, not making a move.

“You’re incredibly fast,” I whispered under my breath, as I remember how Marcus had grabbed me as I fell off the trail on the cliff. “You can fly!” He stood there, frozen while I ticked away the evidence, one item at a time.

“Your skin—” My eyes dropped to his hands, the cool hands that had just held mine. “They’re always cold . . .” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Phoebe.” Marcus reached for me, and then paused, as if changing his mind.

“You growl and hiss like some sort of animal when it’s cornered,” I insisted. “Your body tenses up every time my heart beats faster . . . my pulse gets stronger, and you . . .” My eyes locked with his as I put the last piece in place. I stared at him knowingly. “You’re not afraid of blood, are you?” My question was completely rhetorical. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. “You’re attracted to it!”

Marcus’s face fell.

“No! It’s not possible.” I shook my head again, this time in disbelief. Hoping he would tell me I was wrong. “You can’t be . . .”

Marcus said nothing and watched as shock engulfed me once again. There was nothing he could do.

 My hands gripped my neck—the neck his mouth had been all over minutes ago.

“They’re not real!” I told him, as if we’d been having a two-way conversation. As soon as I said it, I knew that couldn’t necessarily be true. We’d just been discussing what percent werewolf I can add to my pedigree.

“Marcus . . .” My words broke off. This was crazy; there was no way I was going to say what I was thinking out loud. After the werewolf insult . . . no way! “No!” I shook my head and rose from the bed.

“Phoebe, we have to talk about this.” He spoke firmly as he saw my sudden change of thought.

“No we don’t. This is ridiculous . . . I don’t even care!” I laughed nervously, trying to push the revelation from my mind.

“Phoebe,” he warned.

“No!” I spun around facing him squarely. “I know it seems as if we just met, but somehow I don’t believe that . . . and neither do you!” I pointed out quickly before he could object. “I’m falling in love with you, again.” My eyes shifted uneasily. “It doesn’t matter what we are. You’re Marcus—just Marcus!”

I moved past him and opened my dresser with more force than necessary. I randomly grabbed some pajamas from the drawer and turned toward the bathroom. He was blocking my way.

“You’re falling in love with me?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course I am. How could I not?” I motioned to his perfection.

He sighed. “This isn’t going to go away Phoebe. We
need
to talk about this.” He sounded so rational, so calm, that I hated having to disappoint him.

“There’s nothing to talk about . . .” I held the palm of my hand against his cheek. “I’m fine!” I assured, trying to ignore the cold against my skin. It wasn’t freezing, but it was noticeably cooler. I forced a smile for him. He’s
just Marcus
I told myself.

He reached up, took my hand, and held it gently between his before he pressed a kiss across the top of it.

“Stay with me tonight. Please. Whatever you are, you don’t scare me.” I wasn’t sure whom I was trying to convince. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be separated from Marcus again. My need to have him near me was stronger than ever.

“Phoebe . . .” he spoke slowly now. His words meaning to sooth, not infuriate me, but that’s exactly what they did. “You can’t help but be afraid of me; it’s instinctive. Maybe in time . . . we’re just not ready.” He sighed. “It’s best if I don’t stay with you. I won’t be far, should you need me.”

He won’t be far? Should I need him?
Of course I
needed
him! Hadn’t I just told him that I was afraid to be alone? And now he was telling me that he was leaving me? That we weren’t ready to be together? Something inside me snapped.

“Fine. Go.” I pulled my hand from his and walked toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. You can let yourself out,” I said bravely over my shoulder. I wasn’t going to stand here any longer and listen to him telling me how much he loved me but couldn’t be with me speech. If he thought I was one of those silly girls that could be lead on, he was sorely mistaken.

He caught my arm firmly. “Don’t be angry.” His voice was weary. “There is still so much you don’t know.”

I wouldn’t look at him.

“Phoebe, you don’t know how long I’ve loved and protected you,” he began. His hands moved up and down my arms gently, the friction warming my skin. I could feel my heart start to beat faster. I was sure he could too. Why was he doing this to me?

“You don’t know the life we had. The life I remember that you can’t possibly and most likely never will.” There was so much pain in his voice; it tugged at my heart. “You don’t know what it did to me when I lost you. You can’t even let yourself imagine what I am.”

“Then tell me,” I breathed. I still wouldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t chance a glance at those eyes, those beautiful eyes . . . if he loved me like he said, he’d prove it. He’d be honest with me. He’d stop toying with me, bringing my heart to the point of explosion, and then stomping out the flames. If he loved me, he wouldn’t leave me to the wolves . . . again.

“I won’t make you fear me anymore than I have,” he finally said, his voice a little tighter.

I pursed my lips. That was not the admission I’d hoped for. “I know more than you realize,” I admitted reluctantly. “I know that it was your name I was calling for the night I died. Wasn’t it?”

For a moment, I thought Marcus had stopped breathing. I looked back over my shoulder and met his bewildered stare.

“How could you know that?” His words were barely a whisper.

I bit my lip, deliberating my answer. “When I was lying on the road tonight, praying for death, it was just like in my dream, only then you never came for me.”

His eyes glossed over. “I was too late.” I could hear the devastation in his words.

I stared at him for a moment. “I had another life, didn’t I? A life with you . . .”

He looked uneasily at me, as if debating whether or not to answer.

I nodded my head in understanding. He didn’t really have to say it. I knew by the look in his eyes that I’d guessed correctly. Somehow, I’d already known. Marcus and I had had another life together. And by some miracle, we’d found each other again. So why was he pushing me away?

I turned toward him and cupped his face with my hand, claiming his attention. His skin was soft, smooth, like the wings of a butterfly. I marveled at the feel of it. “I promise Marcus, I’m not afraid of you. Whatever you are, you’re not dangerous to me. You’d never hurt me.” My heart betrayed me. The very touch of his skin jump-started it. I debated for half a second before drawing my arms up around him. I kissed him desperately.

He hesitated then pulled me closer, eagerly meeting each kiss. His hands were around my neck, holding my face to his.

“We need each other,” I breathed out, my lips claiming his again and again. I could feel it in my very bones. This felt right. I did need him, like he needed me.

“I do need you.” He kissed me harder. “I need you alive!” With what looked to be all his strength, he pulled away from me. I staggered back a little, my body crying out in protest.

“I’m more dangerous than you can imagine,” he shook his head. There was no play in his words.

“What does it matter who or what we are as long as we love each other?” I demanded. My resolve was strong. “I know you love me; I can feel it!”

 “I do love you!” he snapped. His admission should have brought a smile to my face. But it didn’t. He was pushing me away still, and I didn’t understand why. I could feel my blood start to boil again.

“I’m not staying with you until you know what I am. Not until you know the risk you’re taking being this close to me. You’re not ready yet. I saw that tonight,” he added with regret in his voice.

Not ready? “I think I’m capable of deciding whether or not I’m ready to love someone.”

“Not this time,” he mused.

“I don’t understand you,” I scoffed. “You say you love me. You’ve all but admitted that we’ve had another life together . . . and here I am, willing to love you again, and you’re pushing me away? I’m just asking you to stay with me—that’s all!”

He cut me a look that suggested he wasn’t going to dignify my challenge with an answer.

I threw my hands into the air. “Fine. You don’t want to stay with me—don’t. I can take care of myself.” I turned and walked away from him, madder than ever. “I’ll bet Brian wouldn’t leave me to the wolves,” I mumbled angrily under my breath.

Marcus appeared in front of me, stopping me short, his face tight with anger. He leaned in, close. The anger radiating off his body surprised me. “I’d kill him before he reached the door.” His eyes were as black as ebony, deadly—like his threat.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. My heart was pounding wildly from within as I studied his expression. He still hadn’t backed away from me. The closeness of his body and the sweet smell of his breath called to me again. I tried to ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. I was still shaken by his reaction. My words came out broken, weak.

“Phoebe you don’t understand,” he growled, his eyes still fixed on me. “I could kill you!” His words were harsh and absolute.

“How?” I beseeched. “We’ve made love before, I never died from that.”

His hard expression faltered. “I won’t lose you again.” His hand came up, cupping my cheek.

“Lose me? You won’t lose—”

“No!” He held my shoulders tight, his fingers pressing into skin. “This conversation is over.” His walls were back up. Marcus’s resolve was stronger than ever. He released me, turned his back, and started to leave.