Marked (13 page)

I turn back around where both men are still standing in the open doorway, the tension between them reaching dangerous levels.  “Zane, Roman, I’m sorry I snapped at you both.  Thank you for helping me.”

Brielle’s voice bellows from below.  “Zane, get your ass back down here.  We have work to do!” 

With a final grin in my direction, he turns and ambles towards the stairs.  That just leaves Roman to deal with.  The look on his face tells me he’s not going to just amble away.

“Have you truly been marked by the djinn?” Roman asks, coming into the room and closing the door.  I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.  Zane is pushy, especially for someone I just met an hour ago, but at least he kept the door open. 

“I – I don’t know.”  I stumble over the words, knowing the truth but not ready to say it out loud.

“Why is he sure that you have?” Roman asks, referring to Zane.

I don’t want to tell him, but he deserves to know what we’re up against.  I force the words over my tongue and through my lips. They taste like burnt salmon.  “Because the birthmark is more…sensitive than it should be.”  I don’t think I have to share exactly how it felt when Zane kissed it.

“May I look at it?” Roman asks, moving closer.

My hand moves to cover the unwanted mark.  “I don’t think that’s necessary.  It’s not hurting me.  I’ve had it as long as I can remember and it has never bothered me.”

Roman brushes my hair back over my shoulder and puts his hand on mine.  “I’m not asking as your doctor,” he says, gently moving my hand aside. 

What does that mean?  Does he think he’s more than my doctor now?  I have to admit, being this close to him is making my body react.  His musky, masculine scent fills my nostrils as I take in a shaky breath.  His damp hair is perfectly combed into place; he must have showered too.  It’s hard to deny my attraction to him, regardless of voices in the fog warning me against it.  For all I know, it’s a ploy by the djinn to keep me away from anyone who wants to keep me safe.  Roman’s kind, brave, and sexy as hell.  Why am I even trying to resist him?  I lean forward, wanting to kiss him. 

As his lips move towards mine, Roman’s fingers slide over the mark and a strange sensation rushes through me.  Not a pleasurable one this time.  Pain shoots through my body as if the mark truly is made of fire.  I scream and crumple to the ground, too fast for Roman to catch me.  Blackness engulfs me as I lose consciousness, the pain too much to tolerate.

I’m not sure how long I’m out but I do know I’m getting tired of waking up to Roman’s fingers prying my eyelids open.  I swat at his hand.  “Stop it,” I grumble.

“She appears to be fine,” Mrs. Gregori’s raspy voice says.  “Move back and give her some air.”

I’m surprised to see everyone surrounding my bed.  “What happened?” I ask, my voice sounding weak.

Without preamble, Mrs. Gregori asks me, “Have you ever passed out like that before?” 

I shake my head slightly.  “Not that I know of.”

“Brielle said you were pulled into some fog earlier that no one else could see.  Has that ever happened before?”

I shake my head again.  “Only the two times in the car.  Why?”

Abruptly, she turns her wheelchair around, causing Roman to jump out of the way or get hit in the shins.  Without looking back, she says, “Everyone out so she can get some rest.  Zane, come with me.”

“Coming, Grams,” Zane says.  Before he turns to go, he asks, “Do you need anything?”

I have to stop shaking my head.  I have a pounding headache and it’s not helping.  He starts to leave, but I say, “Unless you have some ibuprofen or something.  My head would greatly appreciate it.”  Surprisingly, the rest of my body isn’t painful at all.  Just my head now.

“Sure thing,” he says.  “Brielle, why don’t you get your guest something for her head?”

“Why don’t you bite me,” Brielle retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Zane looks at her and sighs in mock pity, “Such hostility, little sis.  You really should see someone about that.”

“Zane!” Mrs. Gregori’s voice bellows from down the hall.

Zane rolls his eyes, but he’s not going to make his grandmother wait.  “Brielle?”

She drops her hands to her side and huffs, “Fine.  Go see what Grams wants and I’ll get the princess some ibuprofen.”  Satisfied, Zane leaves the room.

Brielle disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a small white bottle.  Just the sight of it makes me salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs.  That’s how bad my headache is.  She pops the bottle open and shakes out four into her hand.  “Here,” she says.  She hands me the glass of water that has somehow appeared on my nightstand.

I’m a little unsteady when I sit up.  Roman puts his hand on my back to help me.  The ibuprofen and water slide down my dry throat, making me cough.  Roman takes the glass and puts it back on the nightstand so I don’t spill it all over the bed during my coughing fit.

When I can speak again, I look up at Brielle.  “Thank you.”  She shrugs in a ‘whatever’ kind of way.  I hate that there’s this animosity between us.  “Can I ask you something?”

Now she looks leery.  “That depends on the question.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“Other than the fact that you’ve totally turned my life upside down and put my life in danger?” she asks, but there’s something in her expression that tells me she isn’t really upset about that.

I shake my head a little.  “That can’t be it.  I think you thrive on the danger the djinn present,” I tease softly, hoping she’ll take it that way.

Running a hand through her brown hair, which is so much prettier than the red was, she says with a small smile, “Yeah, I do.”  Sighing, she adds, “I don’t hate you.  I just don’t understand what’s going on and I don’t like that feeling.  I don’t know why Malik sent me to save you; I don’t know what connection you have with him.  But what bothers me the most is that he sends me into dangerous situations but you he wants baby-sat as if you’re a precious little princess.”

Wow.  I’m pleasantly surprised; I didn’t expect such honesty.  “Does that make you think he cares more about me than you?”  It’s weird talking about this.  I don’t even remember the guy yet I’m being treated as ‘the other woman’.

Brielle rolls her eyes.  “Well, duh.”

I paste a smile to my lips.  “Maybe he sent you to get me because he knows I wouldn’t be able to do the things you do.  You’re a lot tougher than I am.  Without you, I would have died already.  So, it sounds to me like he has more faith in you than he has in me.”

As my words sink in, I see her mind threading them together to cover the doubt that remains.  “Yeah, you’re probably right.  Well, I’m going to go see what Zane and Grams are up to.”  She breezes out of the room with a half-smile on her face, feeling better than she did when she entered.  I hope, anyway.  I hope I made her feel something other than resentment towards me.   

Roman sits down on the edge of the bed next to me.  “Would you mind if I check your wounds?”

His voice is deep and throaty, his innocent words slide over me like he just asked me to have sex.  My rollercoaster of feelings towards him is definitely on an upswing regardless of my fainting spell.  I don’t want to shy away from him.  Instead, I’m craving his touch.  I imagine his hands on me and heat and moisture pools at my core.  I can’t imagine why I’ve kept him at arm’s length until now.

“I don’t mind,” I say, barely above a whisper.

He gives me a knowing smile.  He can sense what I’m feeling.  But concern for my health keeps him from touching me the way I want.  Slowly, he unwinds the gauze around my arm that I was careful to keep dry during my shower.  It doesn’t hurt this time.  I don’t dare look down at it until Roman’s breath catches.  Stealing a glance at my tattered skin, I am shocked to see that it’s not tattered at all anymore.  It’s red.  I have a rash, but that’s it.  I am almost completely healed.

I look up at Roman.  “How can this be?”

“I have no idea,” he says. 

His eyes have caught mine and I believe the thought of my arm has left his mind entirely.  Slowly leaning forward, he brings his lips to mine.  His kiss is soft and gentle, which is not what I want at all.  I snake my arms around his neck and pull him closer.  Propping his weight on his left arm, he leans over me, pushing me gently down on the pillows. 

Every nibble on my lips, every sweep of his tongue, sends hunger through my veins; an insatiable lust that takes me beyond reason.  His hands touch me as if they have a thousand times before.  I pull him closer, demanding more of him.  My own hands move as if they have a mind of their own; seeking out the places that make him growl deep in his throat.  His mouth becomes almost bruising with need and I match his passion with my own.  Every doubt I have ever had about him is erased from my mind, the only thing left is this moment.  This perfect moment.

His hand snakes up my shirt to find my breast and the heat of his hand on my naked skin threatens to take me over the edge.  I arch my back, pressing against him and he doesn’t disappoint.  He kneads my breast and brushes his thumb over my nipple, causing me to moan into his mouth in ecstasy.  I’m pulling on his shirt, wanting more of his skin on mine when he moves his mouth to my exposed breast and glides his tongue over the most sensitive areas.  My need to push things farther is getting desperate; I need to feel more of him.  I want to be writhing in pleasure underneath him as his body joins mine.  My hand moves to the waistband of his pants, wanting to touch the part of him that is barely being restrained by the fabric. 

A memory flashes in my mind.  A memory of him at my breast, touching and kissing it as he is now.  The memory shifts to him being on top of me, taking me, each thrust more powerful than the last until his body quakes with the strain of holding back, trying to make the moment last so we can tumble over the edge together. 

What the hell?!  I push Roman away.  I’ve never kissed him like this before.  I’ve never felt his hands on me.  And I’ve certainly never had sex with him.  Why am I remembering his touch?  Unless...No, that’s too horrifying to even consider.  When I was in the hospital, did he…?  Roman’s looking down at me, trying to regain his breath, disappointment clear in his eyes.  Could he have?

“Get the fuck away from her, Doc,” Brielle says from the doorway, startling us both. 

Roman cranes his neck around, tugging down my shirt and then shifting his body so that I can see her as well.  She’s holding a rifle and pointing it towards the bed.  Zane is standing next to her looking pissed.

“You heard my sister,” Zane growls.  “Move. The fuck. Away from her.”

“Zane, what’s going on?” I ask.  I got the message that he kind of has the hots for me, but this is a little much.  “Roman’s not doing anything wrong.  I wanted him to stay.”  At least I did when we started kissing.  Now I don’t know what to think.

“I’m not going to say it again.”  Zane says.  I’m pretty sure he means it.

Roman stands up and squares off against him.  “What is the meaning of this?” he asks.  “Are we suddenly prisoners?”

“She’s not,” Brielle says, nodding her head towards me.  Funny, with her gun pointed towards both of us, I feel like I am.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I plead.

Instead of answering me, Zane says to Roman, “Why don’t you tell her how she got her mark, Doc.”

Roman is just as baffled as I am.  “How would I know that?”

“Because you put it there,” Brielle says, her gun pointed directly at his heart.  “It all makes sense now.  How you dropped everything to come with us.  How the djinn keep finding us.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Roman says, anger pooling in his words.

“Brielle, Zane, you’re being ridiculous.  Why would Roman put a djinn mark on me even if he could?” I ask.

His eyes not leaving Roman’s, Zane says, “To mark you as his. To control you.”

Now I know they’ve gone crazy.  I guess this is what happens when you blindly follow strangers.  “I am not his,” I snap.  “And no one controls me.”  I stand up from the bed and move next to Roman in an attempt at solidarity, regardless of my sudden doubts regarding his doctor-patient ethics. 

“Skye, you need to move away from him,” Zane orders.  He has come in the room and is only about five feet from us.

“She is perfectly fine right where she is,” Roman growls back.  He puts his hand on my arm and tries to pull me behind him.

That little slip in his attention gives Zane enough time to swing his leg in a roundhouse kick that hits Roman in the jaw and just misses me.  I stumble back to the bed.  Roman staggers back but doesn’t fall.  Zane closes in on him but he’s ready this time.  He throws a punch and Zane’s lip is suddenly bleeding.  Zane is right back at him, pushing Roman against the wall and putting a fist in his gut and then another one.  Roman hooks his foot around Zane’s and he falls to the floor with Roman swinging at him all the way down.  The two become a flurry of fists as they roll across the room.  Anything in their path is being destroyed as they pound on each other. 

I’m yelling at them to stop, but they’re not listening.  Their fight has become brutal, both men are bloody as hell and neither looks like they’re going to stop until the other is unconscious.  Or dead. 

Even Brielle looks horrified.  She has lowered her gun and is just staring at the men rolling around.  My attention is so focused on them, I am unaware of the newcomer in the room.  Until her handgun is cocked and the barrel is right against Roman’s neck.  I have no idea how she got that close to them, nor did I have any idea that she doesn’t always need her wheelchair.  Roman stills mid-swing.

“I am a hair’s breath away from pulling this trigger.”  Her raspy voice is more chilling than anything I’ve ever heard.  It’s the absolute truth in her words that makes it so.  There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that she will pull the trigger and she won’t feel one iota of remorse for doing it.

Roman releases his hand that was around Zane’s neck and slowly raises his arms in the universal sign for surrender.  Brielle has remembered that she has a gun as well and it’s once again pointed at Roman.  “Get up, Doc,” she says.

My shock is wearing off.  I turn to the gun toting family.  “What the hell is wrong with you people?”  I start to move towards Roman to assess his injuries, but Brielle’s gun turns to me.  “Skye, this is for your own good.  I made a promise that I would keep you safe.  If I have to shoot you to do that, I will.”

I look at her in disgust.  “Because that makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

Roman is standing now with Mrs. Gregori’s gun still pointed at his neck.  She’s a lot taller than I would have guessed.  She has to be a good five eight at least.  She looked smaller in her wheelchair.  Less homicidal, too.

Zane picks himself up off the floor and uses his t-shirt to wipe some of the blood off his face.  A wave of sympathy runs through me until I remember that he’s the one that started the fight.  I scowl at him and turn back to Brielle.

“Will you please tell us what’s going on?”

Zane answers for her.  “Your boyfriend here is a djinni.”

“What?!” Roman and I both say at the same time.  He looks just as shocked as I am.

“Why in the world would you think he’s a djinni?” I ask.  Roman’s jaw muscles are so tight they may snap and his face is turning dark red with anger. 

Brielle’s face softens in pity as she says, “Skye, listen, Zane’s telling the truth.  The mark on your neck proves it.”

This is ridiculous.  “How can a birthmark I’ve had since I was born have anything to do with Roman?” I ask.

“How do you know you’ve had it since birth?” Zane asks.  He lips are swollen from the fight, so he sounds a little strange when he speaks.

“My parents told me,” I say haughtily.  Zane raises a brow triggering the memory of our conversation earlier, which makes me defensive.  “My parents did not lie to me.”

“I only met her a few days ago and she already had the mark.  You can verify that with any of the nurses who cared for her in the hospital,” Roman growls.  “It’s not possible that I put it there.”

“Except for that tiny fact that she doesn’t remember anything from before her sixteenth year,” Mrs. Gregori rasps.  She smacks Roman in the back of the head with her gun which earns her a dark look from him.  I think her ‘I won’t hit you because you’re a little old lady’ status is diminishing.  She’s close to getting herself bitch slapped by a grown man.

“Mrs. Gregori, please,” I say, moving closer to her.  “I still don’t understand why you think Roman did it.  What proof do you have?”

Zane approaches me and puts his hands on my shoulders, leaving bloody marks on my t-shirt.  “How did it feel when I touched your mark?”

Color floods my face.  “It…”  I really don’t want to answer him.  Especially since everyone is staring at me, waiting for my response.  I don’t want to announce to everyone that his tongue on the mark made me collapse.  Damn it.  Maybe he’s a pig, but I’m making an educated guess that this declaration is not for the sake of his ego.  Okay, there’s probably some of that there, too.

“Skye, how did it feel?” he asks again, shaking my shoulders a little.

There doesn’t seem to be a way around this so I tell him what he wants to hear.  “It felt good.”  That’s all he’s getting.

Zane chuckles.  “Good, or fucking unbelievable?”

I glower at him.  I can’t believe he’s making me say this in front of his grandmother.  He is a pig.  “Fine.  Fucking unbelievable.  Are you happy now?”

He smiles sadly.  “I would be if I was the only one who could inspire that feeling.  But unfortunately, anyone except the person who put the mark there can make you feel like that.  Did you hear me?  Except the person who put it there.”