Black Scar (8 page)

“Stop it, Marcus. Just ... stop.”

She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed
him.
The contact was as
scorching as their previous kiss. His lips were full, soft, and imminently
nibble-worthy. At first, Marcus did not respond, but then he moaned and
deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging deep and masterfully taking control. His
delicious scent of aged oak, cloves, and leather overcame her once again. The
Mate Bond?

Why did she care?
She did not want the beast-boy attached to her in any way. But Logan did care.
Blessed sea mother, she cared very much. How did her emotions toward him
develop so fast?

He leaned his
body against hers, and his massive erection pressed against her stomach. How
can he be hard already? Wasn’t he just sated by Lucius?

As if reading her
mind, Marcus murmured, “This has nothing to do with the Blood Lust. It’s you,
Logan. I want you. I ache to be buried deep within. Your scent, so enticing...”

Scent? So it
was
the Mate Bond! As quickly as her
desire appeared, fear replaced it. She pushed hard at his chest, and Marcus
stumbled back, far enough she could make her escape.

She ran out of
the room, down the stairs and outside toward the water. Without caring who may
be nearby, she stripped off and dove into the ocean. Adjusting her breathing,
the cold sting of the salt water prickled her skin and revitalized and calmed
her torment. This inward struggle over her needs, desires, and duties could not
continue. Logan swam toward the horizon and oblivion.

****

Dinner time came, and there was no sign of
Logan. Brennan brought him a type of beef stew. He managed a few spoonfuls
before his stomach roiled and he pushed it aside. He tried watching
The Sea Hawk
, but couldn’t concentrate
on it. So much had happened today. Marcus glanced at the Blackthorne Clan ring
still sitting on the end table.
 
He
didn’t realize how much he wanted to belong to anything or anyone. But the
Clan, for all their welcoming, still seemed like an unattainable goal.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and his
heart banged against his ribcage, hoping it might be Logan. The door opened and
Raylene Nightwood stepped in. Marcus flushed immediately with embarrassment. He
hadn’t seen her since the night at The Rusty Anchor Pub when he came on to her
while they danced. Well, truth be told, she touched him first. They were both
angry with Deegan and turned to each other briefly for solace until Deegan
barrelled in and almost put him through the wall. After they had left was when
he picked up Raylene’s brother, Julian, and took him back to his hotel room and
the nightmare began. How awkward could this get?

Marcus could sense apprehension and pity from
Raylene. His inherited skill of sensing emotions that he’d received from Deegan
seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day. She kept her eyes
downcast. He tried to rein in his all-over-the-map emotions.

“I’m glad you agreed to see me, Marcus.” Her
voice was soft, kind, and solicitous.

Facing him and lifting her gaze, she drank in
his hideousness. She had not seen him without the bandages, he assumed. How
would he know, he’d been unconscious for days after the attack.

 
Raylene
cried out, and her hand flew to her mouth. She began to cry and buried her face
in her hands. Oh Jesus, he didn’t need this. A woman takes one look at him and
busts out sobbing. Should he console her?
Fuck
it, no.

The crying continued, and Marcus looked off out
the window. Never should’ve agreed to this meeting. Finally, Raylene wiped the
tears from her flushed cheeks and took a seat next to him.

“It’s the pregnancy. My emotions are fried.
Sorry, Marcus. I will only stay a moment. I wanted to tell you I spoke briefly
to Julian.”

The name cut across his chest as deep and brutal
as a saber slice. Those erotic flashes flickered in his mind again. Julian was
an aggressive lover, but they also shared moments of tenderness in between the
savage sex sessions. A small spark of hope had ignited in Marcus’s little used
heart that night. He’d completely surrendered to Julian, something he had never
done with a partner before. He thought the one-night stand could grow into
something more. Until Julian went into monster mode and ripped his face off.

Raylene continued. “He’s ... he’s not in a good
place. I’m worried about him. He’s devastated by what happened. He is being
subjected to so many tests and experiments.”

Marcus curled his lip. Poor Julian. Who gave a
fuck? Raylene must have seen the disdain on his face.

“You don’t want to hear this, do you?”

“No, Raylene, I don’t. Sorry, but I don’t have
any sympathy for your brother. He’s ruined my life. I just as soon not hear his
name again. Can you do that for me?”

A look of pain crossed her face. “I can do that.
I will mention him one last time. He told me to tell you that though the words
sound lame, in his heart he is so very sorry.”

Sorry.
Sorry I fucked you senseless and
introduced you to raw, radiant lust. Sorry I embraced you close to my heart.
Sorry I gave you hope that I could care for you, or that there could be
something more than just physical desire. Sorry I tried to destroy you.

Yeah, he imagined Julian’s sexy, deep timber
whispering in his ear all his empathic apologies. Fuck him, his sister, Deegan
and
the Clan.

Boiling, festering rage bubbled deep in his gut.
Since he awoke from his brief coma last week, he’d kept a lid on most of his
emotions, at least the ones that had anger and fury at the root. They
threatened to blow any second. He had to get Raylene out of here before he lost
it completely.

Between clenched teeth he growled, “Raylene,
you’d better leave. Now.”

The tone of his voice must have made his point
because Raylene scrambled to her feet and ran out the door. It seemed women
were forever running from him.

Marcus stood, roared in a wrathful, enraged
frenzy and then began to tear the room apart.

****

The room was
dark, and ghostly shadows danced on the wall. Marcus closed his eye and tried
to sit up. He couldn’t. His arms and legs were being restrained. He growled and
pulled, but the leather straps kept his movement minimal. Even with his
enhanced strength he could not break the bonds. The rattle of heavy chain
echoed in the room, and he understood why. Not only did they tie him down, they
chained him as well.
What in the fuck
happened?

Opening his one
eye, he tried to focus. This wasn’t Brennan’s room. He inhaled. Vanilla and
spices surrounded him. Turning his face, his nose brushed by the pillow. Logan.
No one else was in the room; his senses could make that much out. Since the
area was cloaked in darkness, several hours must have passed. Searching his
memory for any explanation, he came up blank. He remembered nothing after
Raylene left.

A frightening
realization hit him. Was he suffering from The Concealment? Did Julian pass it
on to him? How could that even be possible? They didn’t share any blood.
Perhaps Deegan did this, during the turning. Raylene and Julian’s father,
Raynor, contracted the madness that way, didn’t he? He roared and pulled again
at the restraints.

“Stop struggling,
Marcus. You canna escape.”

Logan.
Her sexy, sporadic burr sent carnal chills down his spine. His cock
hardened immediately.

“What happened?”

He was shocked
how raw and hoarse his voice sounded.

“You tore
Brennan’s room to pieces. You also broke off your cast. Luckily, you were nearly
healed. You were sedated, and I took some blood. We are running tests.”

“The
Concealment?”

“We dinna know.”

Logan moved
toward the door.

“Wait! Don’t
leave me...”

Jesus, he sounded
pathetic. The truth rocked him, and stark fear gripped him tight. He was going
mad.

“What do you want
of me?” Logan cried. Her voice quivered with emotion.

“There is
something between us. You know what it is. Tell me.”

He heard a sigh
as Logan sat on a nearby chair. “Has Deegan told you of the Mate Bond?”

His addled brain
tried to recall Deegan’s visits and his non-stop narrative of Vampire rules,
regulations, policies, and physicality.
 

“Are you telling
me that we are fated mates?”

“I don’t accept
it. It is not possible. You are a Bloodling. Newly turned Vampires dinna experience
the Mate Bond for years! I refuse you, I will never...”

Her words hurt.
What was another slice at his damned heart?

“Because I’m
damaged, scarred, ugly...”

“Oh, bloody well
stop, Marcus! You think I care about your looks?” she cried.

Then what else
could it be? True, she never flinched from him or burst into tears at his
appearance. She even touched his horrid face. Then what—

“I am Thrope.
That is the reason. Correct?”

“Oh, God. I swore
I would never take another mate. And yes, I abhor your Thrope origins. Shall I
tell you why? My last mate was human, back in Scotland in the mid-1700s.
Blessed sea mother, how I loved him. Allen MacAdam, Laird and warrior. I told
you our Clan had been attacked. A Thrope killed my Allen, tore him to pieces in
front of me. But before the light left his beautiful eyes, he had to watch that
same beast rape me.” Logan shuddered. “You know what I had to endure. That
monster had me pinned to the mud for hours. I screamed until my voice was gone,
but it only spurred the Thrope onward. I don’t know how much time passed, until
Deegan tried to pull him off me.”

Marcus winced.
The man had been locked inside her. He knew the bestial side of Thrope mating.

“It was
providence that Deegan’s ship arrived at that moment. But for all his strength,
he could not pull the Thrope out of me. Deegan had a knife to his throat and
demanded he finish it. The Thrope finally completed his ... his ... Deegan
pulled him off me. I was bleeding and torn. Deegan killed him. By the time we
were at sea headed toward Nova Scotia, I knew I was pregnant and it wasn’t
Allen’s. Mercifully, the babe dinna survive. The dreaded Faepyre curse, though
for me, it was a blessing.” Logan dashed away a tear. “I will never accept you
for mate. Never.”

No wonder she ran
from him. Her narrative was heart wrenching to hear, and compassion flooded his
soul.

“Logan, listen.
I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t speak to Thropes in the eighteenth
century, but there are evil souls in every species in the Shadow World and among
humankind. You can’t lump me in with the psycho who killed your mate and raped
you.”

“So says the wolf
that is tied to the bed.”

Marcus inhaled. Her
scent was like crack. His cock stiffened even more.

“You’re aroused,
Logan. I sense it. You want me.” He rattled the chains. “Go on, slake your
lust. I am in no position to fight back. Let me prove to you I can be
submissive. There is hardly any Thrope left in me. I can’t shift anymore. I
know you are turned on, but I can’t read your thoughts like a Thrope is able
to. I’m not an animal. Or are you going to run again?”

Logan stood and
moved to the side of the bed.

“I am not going
to rape you,” she whispered. “How can you propose such a thing?”

“Logan, I’m not
suggesting that, Jesus. Stop fighting what is between us. Act on it.”

Her fingers
touched his bare chest tentatively, enough to spark his arousal and kick it up
another notch.

“I have not had
sex in decades. I grew weary of always taking, never giving. I am not sure I am
capable of giving anything anymore. My body—or my heart.”

“How do you know
unless you try? Can you sense my passion, how much I want you? And I say again,
it’s not the Blood Lust. It’s you. I want
you
.”

Logan pulled his
sweatpants down to his knees, straddled him, and without a word, plunged down
on his stiff cock. She stayed perfectly still. Marcus waited. It took all his
patience not to move his hips. God, she was tight, hot, and sent his lust
spinning into orbit. Her fingers splayed out on his chest. Her touch seared,
her caress singed, and a small moan left her throat.

“It has been so
long,” she murmured.

“Take from me, l
... love me.”

Never did his
voice sound so vulnerable. Already this had moved beyond sex, and they hadn’t
even started. Puzzle pieces—that’s what they were, a perfect fit.

Still Logan did
not move or react. Did he hurt her? Seeing she hadn’t had sex for decades she
was tight and his cock—well—huge.

“Logan?”

Another moan slid
from her lips, and she rocked her hips in answer. His back arched. The chains
rattled, and the leather straps strained. Raw flame tore through his body.
Logan tore off the dress she wore and tossed it aside. No underwear. Sexy. The
moonlight illumination enhanced her naked, pale beauty. It was breathtaking to
behold.