Of A Darker Nature (12 page)

He wished he could take away the pain and fear in Evan’s eyes. It was beyond him why he’d allowed himself to care for this pathetic, mortal creature. Sometimes he wished he still had the room to himself, but it had been his idea for Evan to stay here with him. It was the only way to protect him from the mistress at the time, and he would not go back on his promise.

Evan cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Do you think Isabella will still want to speak to the girl? I mean, even if she gets the information she wants from Pete?”

Marcus settled into bed. “Yeah, I imagine so.”

“How’re we going to keep her from doing something stupid?”

“Who, Isabella or Emily?”

Evan yawned, fluffed his pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Both.”

Emily’s guilt and Brenda’s constant glares overshadowed what should have been a happy homecoming. Within moments of her arrival, they’d had a lengthy argument that sent them to separate rooms.

Emily woke up from an afternoon nap to the sound of slamming doors. She figured Brenda was still in a funk and decided to give her some time and space. That only lasted a few minutes. Emily couldn’t stand not knowing what her friend was doing.

Brenda opened the door to toss an overnight bag into the hall. She smirked then went back into the room.

Two overstuffed suitcases sat stacked beside the bedroom door.

She’d even placed two plastic containers filled with shoes and handbags next to them. Emily’s stomach hollowed, and her mouth went dry.

Brenda turned from her smashed dresser to drop a few items into another travel bag. “I can't stay here anymore. I’m going to stay at my mom’s in Florida for a while.”

Emily eased onto the edge of the mattress to watch her friend dump make up into a travel case. “We’ve been through a lot, Brenda. You don’t have to leave.”

“I’m scared, Emily. I just can’t stay.” She jerked a drawer open and gathered the rolled socks inside. “You shouldn’t either. They might come back to finish what they started.”

Emily took a deep, calm breath. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Though the wounds were superficial, Brenda’s throat was covered by a thick wad of gauze. An angry gash on her left forearm required ten stitches. Emily had been sick with worry after the ambulance took her away. The idea that she would never see her friend again or that she might die had weighed on her mind. The knowledge that it was her fault, that she’d almost gotten someone she cared about killed, nearly tripped her over the edge of a breakdown. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Emily’s eyes stung, and her throat burned. They’d always leaned on each other when times got rough. Why did this time feel so different?

Brenda rounded the end of the bed and sank beside her. The mattress creaked in protest to their combined weight. She laid her head against Emily’s shoulder and sighed. “I just don’t feel safe anymore, Em. Mom already bought a ticket. My flight leaves at the end of the week. After everything that has happened, how can you stay?”

“What choice do I have?” Emily straightened her shoulders. She forced herself to smile. “I’m not going to cut and run. That’s what they want.”

Brenda stood and brushed hands down the thighs of her bright orange shorts. “But you’ve always run from your problems. I guess it’s different since you own the place, huh?” The accusation hung heavy in her voice.

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Brenda. You know I didn’t.”

Her friend's brown eyes glittered with fury. She stabbed a finger at Emily. “You never ask for anything, do you? Everything has always been handed to you on a silver platter.”

Emily got to her feet and crossed arms over her chest. “I said you could have the damned house. I don’t want it! It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Betrayal left her nauseous and the urge to strike her friend was a strong one.

Brenda’s laughter was deafening in the room. “You had a chance to make something of your life, but you had to come crawling back instead.”

“My parents are dead because of it!” Fury and grief battled within her. How dare Brenda throw that in her face! “Do you know how it feels to wake up in the hospital and find out your parents are dead and buried? That your sister, your flesh and blood, blames you for something you had no control over? Of course you don’t!”

“You could have had a decent life in Arizona. You could have started over.” Brenda zipped the suitcase and tossed it next to the others. “Instead, you decided to come back and a whole shit storm followed you.”

“Shut up!” Memories of Arizona were like salt in raw wounds. “You don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Greg was a decent enough guy. You should have worked it out with him and popped out a couple kids. Don't you ever wonder what things would've been like if you hadn’t run from your problems?”

Emily blocked Brenda’s path. “First of all, Greg was far from a decent guy. He was a con artist who used me to rip people off. He was just a few steps away from being put in prison.”

Brenda tried to sidestep her.

Emily gripped her friend’s arm. “Secondly, he not only verbally abused me, but physically too. Life in Arizona was hard, and I spent all my time being scared. All I wanted was to come home. This shit storm didn’t follow me. It was already here.”

Brenda crumpled onto the bed. She pulled a pillow up to her chest and looked at Emily with liquid eyes. “But if you stay and fight, you’re going to get hurt.”

Emily didn’t know what had gotten into Brenda, but she wanted no part of it. She had nothing more to say. Brenda’s venomous tongue had poisoned the remains of their friendship, and she was unsure if she’d be able to find forgiveness this time.

Brenda stared at her from the bed. “You know I didn’t mean those things I said about Greg, right?”

Emily moved toward the door. “Maybe leaving would be a good idea.”

“I’m just hurt and scared.” Brenda grabbed Emily’s arm. “Say something, Emily.”

She refused to turn and look at her friend. “I think you’ve said enough for the both of us.”

Emily finished her dinner of frozen lasagna. Now she contemplated the paint samples she’d picked up yesterday. The house would be her responsibility, and she might as well do what she wanted with it. She took the samples and debated between the poinsettia and toasted chestnut swatches.

Cursing under her breath, she tossed the paint samples back onto the pile of books on the table. Which one would be wiser? Paint first and match a sofa to it or try to coordinate furniture to the wall colors?

She wondered how long it would take to save up for a new living room suite.

Almost all of the furniture in the house was second hand. Select pieces belonged to Emily’s parents, and the bed she was using was the one she’d had when living at home with her parents. Trent and his goons had ruined most of it. Replacing her bedroom window had already taken a large chunk of her savings. Add it to the growing list of things destroyed, and she’d be eating peanut butter sandwiches the rest of her life.

She rummaged the freezer for the remainder of cookie dough ice cream.

Her spoon scraped the bottom of the container for the last sweet morsel. Savoring it, she ran her tongue along the edge of the spoon and sighed. Heaven, she hoped, would be a lot like the taste of melting chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

She pitched the empty container into the trash then turned to wash dishes. Subtle movement behind her stole her breath away. Funny, she hadn’t heard the door or telltale creaks of movement on the hardwood floor. Would this madness ever end? Didn’t vampires understand proper etiquette?

Her fingers pressed against the bottom of the basin in search of the knife she’d used to cut up a salad.

The man behind her stopped next to the table. He glanced at the open pages of text and the paint swatches. “Did you consider calm storm? It’s a nice color.”

“Get out of my house.”

Marcus grinned. “You were all about finding me a few nights ago.”

His debonair smile made her heartbeat stammer. “I think I've changed my mind about you.”

Marcus laid a hand on her shoulder, and his thumb stroked her neck. His skin was cool and brought a little shiver from her. “I’m trying to be nice, Emily. But go ahead and make it difficult, it excites me.”

Brenda chose that moment to shuffle into the kitchen. Her hair looked a mess, and she was drowning in an oversized t-shirt. Her eyes shifted toward Marcus, and she yelped in surprise.

She stumbled backward, and her hand curled around a candle holder sitting on the kitchen island. Emily barely registered Marcus's movement. He stood next to her one moment, gone the next.

He held Brenda against the wall, one hand wrapped around her throat. The candle holder fell to the floor between them. Brenda clawed at his hand. Her frightened eyes zipped this way, and that in their sockets as strangled noises rose from her throat.

“Stop!” Emily’s momentum thrust the knife between them. 

The blade slid beneath the vampire’s arm, between the ribs. She hadn’t planned on stabbing him unless he tried to harm her. She also hadn’t considered Brenda’s intrusion. His reaction gave her no choice. Now, she turned wide eyes toward his face in horror.

He glanced down at the knife still gripped in her soapy hand. His expression appeared petulant. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…”

Emily released the handle, unsure of what to do next. Her hands shook, and her knees wobbled like jelly. She stumbled backward a few steps. “Oh my god, Marcus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

Brenda made a gagging noise, reminding them that she couldn’t breathe. 

Marcus loosened his grip and eased her back onto her feet. “Go back to bed, sleep until morning.”

Brenda ambled away, eyes vacant and her gait a bit woozy. Within moments, she had gone down the hall and closed the bedroom door with a bang.

Emily pressed herself against the lip of the sink.

The vampire worked the knife from his ribcage with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes squinted, the tip of his tongue between his front teeth. Without comment, he tossed the knife into the basin. Emily watched in awed horror as ribbons of crimson swirled in the water.

She licked her lips. “Why’d you let me do that? Didn't it hurt?”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled, and a fang was visible. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You'd be amazed at what I'm capable of.” Emily’s face scrunched.

The realization that she’d just stabbed someone became concrete in her mind.

A dark stain blossomed across Marcus's t-shirt, just beneath his armpit. His gaze narrowed on the hollow of her throat. “You're capable of making me cranky and ravenous.”

Emily touched the charm at her throat. “I won't allow you to drink from me.”

He raised a brow and smirked. “You wouldn't be able to stop me.”

One hand behind her, she inched the cutlery drawer open in search of another weapon. Her fingers danced over spoons and forks.

“Witchcraft is a pretty dark subject.” He indicated the book she’d left open and the detailed May celebration on the page.

His finger stroked across the edge of the book. Emily’s gaze followed the movement.

“What are you doing to celebrate Beltane this year, Emmy?” Figuring a fork would do little damage, she gave up her search. She inched closer to shut the book and pushed the volume across the table. “It's Emily. And I’m not a witch.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes glittered like sapphires. “What's with all this?”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Sure, that’s what they all said right before they burned at the stake.”

He might appear comfortable in her cozy kitchen with its coffee motif, but that might change at any moment. She couldn’t allow him to touch her either, especially since her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she marveled at how many times she’d kissed him. “What do you want now?”

“I want a lot of things from you, Emily.” He crept closer, and she took a step backward. “But it seems you’ve decided I can’t be trusted, so those things will have to wait.”

The things he hinted at made heat swirl low in her belly and pool between her legs.
Focus!
“Everyone tells me you’re a dangerous man and that I should run the other way if I see you.”

“Perhaps you should.” He studied the curve of her neck.

She got the distinct impression he imagined the taste of her blood instead. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?”

“And you didn’t answer mine.” An easy smile softened his features. “The mistress of the city wants to meet you.”

“What? Why?” She took another step backward. “No way.”

“The way you arrive is entirely up to you. I do believe she’d like you conscious though.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the implied threat. “Why does she want to talk to me?”

Marcus edged closer. “Let's get moving.”

Emily straightened from the counter. “Haven’t you ever heard that you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar?”

“It’s not in my nature to be sweet.” The vampire fished a black handkerchief from his back pocket.

“I’m not going with you.” She darted into the living room. 

“I won’t hurt you unless you give me no other choice.” He pulled her against his body.

Emily’s palm smacked his jaw. “Stop manhandling me.”

“Try not to be so scared, it excites me.” His light blue eyes appeared darker. “And fighting me just exacerbates the urge to do other things.”

A coil of fear knotted in her belly. What had happened to John Doe, her hero? She really missed that guy. “I think I liked you better when you were a mystery.”

“And I prefer you doe-eyed…” He kept eye contact with her. His hands lifted toward her face. “… and kissing me.”

“Why blindfold me if you’re going to kill me?” There was a space of two heartbeats. “Are you going to kill me?”

Marcus covered her eyes with the soft cloth. It was all she could do to stand still while his fingers fluttered around her head.

“I’ve had plenty of opportunities to hurt you if I wanted. I've been watching you for days.” His hands were on her shoulders again, pushing her forward. “The fact that I haven’t should account for something. After all, I’ve allowed you to break my arm and stab me. I haven’t let anyone harm you, have I?”

Emily considered this. It might be true that Marcus hadn’t hurt her, but what about his mistress? “I never asked for your help.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” He chuckled near her ear. Surprisingly, his breath carried a hint of mint. “And the way you kissed me…”

“That was a mistake!” She tore the blindfold from her face.

His eyes darkened like an angry sea, and his fangs were visible. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll bring your friend along. I guarantee it won’t be pleasant for her.” His voice held mild amusement.

“My god, you’re an arrogant asshole.” Emily shoved at him and struggled to loosen his grip on her arm. Amazingly, his fingers relaxed and she staggered forward into the wall. Her shoulder struck the plaster, and she crumpled to the floor.

She squealed when he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like a caveman. Emily screamed and pounded fists against his back. She kicked her legs and twisted her body, but he held tight and carried her outside.

Marcus shrugged her off and pushed her up against his vehicle. “Get in.”

Emily’s body trembled with fear and anger. Her heartbeat threatened to pound right out her chest. She had the worst luck with men!

After she had climbed inside, he pulled the seatbelt across her chest and snapped it shut. Somehow she managed to sit still even when his knuckles brushed against her breast and hip. “Gee, you’re so considerate.”

“Don’t get out of the car.”

The fragrance of the leather interior engulfed her. In a way, it was somewhat comforting when combined with Marcus's hunky male scent. She waited in silence for him to get in and snap his seatbelt. He twisted the key and the car immediately purred to life. Soft music was the only noise in the cozy cabin. She caught the first notes of her favorite Aerosmith song.

“Put the blindfold back on.” He was all business now.

She wished she’d listened to Beau’s warnings. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this.”

A dark frown twisted his features, and one of his hands lifted toward her.

“Okay! I’m putting it on, see?” She tied the blindfold loosely around her head.

“Cooperate or I’ll pull over. You do not want me to do that.”

“Holy crap, I get it. You’re a big, bad-ass meanie. I got it, okay?”

Her escort waited for her to move her hands. When she did, he cinched the blindfold tighter. The bridge of her nose stung with the sudden compression. Had he meant for it to hurt?

She shrank back against the plush leather and willed him to say something, anything. She was desperate to break the silence that stretched between them. “If I’d known I was going out tonight, I would’ve thrown on some decent clothes and maybe some makeup. You ought to call a girl before showing up unexpected on her doorstep, you know?”

He might have chuckled, but she couldn’t be sure. Aerosmith was silenced by the soft hum hiss of a disc sliding into the stereo. A harder, angrier band replaced them. She supposed it was as good a way as any to limit conversation.

Four songs later, they rolled to a stop, and the scrape of metal sounded nearby. The driver’s side window hummed down to allow humid night air to swirl around her. Thankfully the music was turned off, and the cabin returned to some semblance of quiet.

Marcus muttered something and a man’s deep voice acknowledged him. “Yes sir, I’ll let them know you’re back.”

The car rolled forward, and the mechanical scraping returned. It had to be a gate. The other man was probably a guard. There went any ideas she may have had about bailing out as soon as the car stopped again.

He cut the engine and unease sang through her once again. “What does your master want from me?”

“At the moment, she just wants to talk.” His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she flinched. He removed the blindfold, but it made no difference. Wherever they were was pitch dark. “And I’d accommodate her if I were you.”

Emily tried to come up with a question that might reward her with an enlightening answer. She still hadn’t come up with one by the time Marcus opened the car door and got out. The car’s interior bulb provided the only light around them.

Damn, he’d taken the keys with him.

He opened her door and waited for her to scoot out. Once the door closed, the interior light faded away. They were blanketed in darkness once again. “Come with me.”

She reached for the sound of his voice. Her fingertips touched his chest, and she recoiled. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

His mouth was suddenly at her ear. “I can see you.”

“Can you see this?” Emily lifted her hand to make a rude gesture.

Marcus gripped her upper arm and pulled her up several stairs. He let go only long enough to push creaking doors open. After he had guided her down a silent stretch of carpet, he stopped and flicked a switch.