Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy (15 page)

“No, we’re almost there . . .” I was leaned as close to the windshield as I could; straining to see through the pounding rain. I pulled up in front of the house a few minutes later. I turned the car off and sat there for a moment with my hands on the wheel, pondering.

“Marcus, was my father some sort of leader?” I asked off handedly.

“He is
thee
leader.” I could hear the respect in his voice.

“Luther!”

He nodded his head.

“He’s still alive then?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes . . .” Marcus was watching me apprehensively now.

“Was I very close to him, I mean back then?”

Somehow he knew where I was going with this. “Phoebe, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he warned.

“I’m just curious, Marcus. It’s not like I’m asking to meet him. He’s not my dad—he probably wouldn’t even recognize me. I mean, it’s not like he wants a half human, half werewolf daughter anyway,” I mumbled under my breath.

I felt Marcus's hand on mine, squeezing it gently. “He wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. The resemblance is . . . amazing!”

It was then that I understood the look of awe Marcus had when he looked at me. I gave him a hopeful smile.

“Phoebe, I’m so sorry about your father’s passing. I’m sure he was a wonderful man. I would have been honored to meet him.”

I nodded, giving him a half-smile.

“But you must understand; that if I brought you to Luther . . . you wouldn’t be safe.”

“Do you think he’d kill me?” I gasped. I hadn’t thought of him as a vampire. I thought of him as my father from another time. I missed my dad so badly. Maybe if I could spend time with . . . I shook the idea away. “You’re right. It’s a crazy idea.” I got out of the car and ran to the front door, shaking the rain off my jacket. Marcus beat me there.

“You’re fast!” I exclaimed. I took the bag of food from him and fumbled with the keys, eventually finding the right one and opening the door.

“It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” I set the bag on the coffee table. Small talk was not my forte.

Marcus cornered me against the couch. His hands cupped my face, claiming my attention. “Phoebe, I’m sure Luther would have been thrilled to have you back. He would have given all that he has to have you again, but there are . . .
other
considerations now.”

“What considerations?” I asked desperately, my hands seeking his. I hadn’t realized how important this was to me.

Marcus's soft brown eyes were staring sadly back at mine. “I can’t bring you into my world; I have to protect you from it. I can’t let them find out about you—ever.”

“Why? Have you changed your mind about me?” my voice cracked.

“No!”

“Then why?” I begged.

“You’re part wolf—they’d kill you on sight.” His eyes were filled with a devastating sadness. My heart was breaking all over again. All hope I’d had, just crumbled before me.

“Oh, I see.” I felt so foolish. “Of course,” I walked over to the couch, picked up a pillow, and held it tightly to my chest as I sat down, sinking into the depths of despair. I didn’t feel so hungry any longer. “He might have wanted me if Damen hadn’t bitten me,” I resided. “We can never be together you and I—not really.” I hung my head. “I’ve lost you all over again, haven’t I?”

Marcus appeared beside me. I sank into his open arms and cried.

“You don’t need to cry.” He held me to him, smoothing my hair softly. “I’ll find a way, I swear it!”

I pulled my head back and studied his face. There was such passion in his eyes. He meant what he’d said. Although, I knew he was making a promise he couldn’t possibly keep. I shook my head.

“I won’t let you go! Do you understand me? Not ever!” His lips collided with mine, as if the force of this kiss would convince me that he could fix anything. I almost believed that he could. Hot tears continued to stream down my face. I would have to burn this moment into my mind forever, for as I feared, my time with Marcus was fleeting.

I put my whole body into that kiss. I rose to my knees, my lips never leaving his. I could feel him gently trying to pull back. I wouldn’t let him. I ran my fingers through his hair, holding his head firmly to mine. His body responded. His hands pulled me closer. I wouldn’t let him go without showing him how much I wanted him, how much I needed him. We should be together—it could work—I just had to help him find a way.

“Phoebe, stop!” His words were sharp as he jerked away from me. He panted, his breathing just as labored as my own.

“You know I can’t make love to you,” he growled in frustration.

“You said when I knew who you were . . . I know who you are! And I don’t care!” I yelled, trying to inch closer.

“Phoebe, we’re not ready,” he rubbed his forehead like he was in pain. “You don’t understand the danger you’d be putting yourself in.”

“I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about any of it. You’re going to leave me anyway! I’d rather die trying than not have had the chance to love you again.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“You said if you took me with you, I’d be killed. You can’t escape your world, and I don’t know how you could hide me from it. What choice do you have?”

“I told you I’d find a way, and I will!” His resolve was strong.

I turned away from him.

“Phoebe. I have to be so careful with you. If another vampire comes across your scent, and I’m not there . . .” he didn’t have to finish, I could hear the dread in his voice.

“What about Damen?” I asked hopelessly. “Are you going to hide me from him as well?”

Marcus’s expression was like steel. “I will do whatever I have to do to keep you safe. Damen could have killed you twice now . . . but why hasn’t he?” Although he said this aloud, the thought was clearly meant for him to consider privately. He looked far away now as his mind mulled the question over and over.

“Tell me about Damen . . . and me?”

Marcus's face grew hard. His eyes narrowed as he considered my question. “Why?”

“Our relationship wasn’t very friendly, was it?”

“Why would you say that?” he questioned.

“If he was my protector, I’d assume we were close, friends at the very least. Something tells me that wasn’t the case, at least, not in the end.”

Marcus shifted uneasily. “I only know bits and pieces,” he admitted. “It isn’t much.”

I looked at him with hopeful eyes once more.

“All of this was before my time,” he began. “From what I understand, Damen was assigned to you by your father when you were ten years old. He was to protect you during the daylight hours, when your father couldn’t be with you. Damen was never to leave your side.

“Ten? Where was my mother?”

“I believe she died of a fever. I know nothing more than that,” Marcus added quickly.

I clutched my heart. How tragic. Had I always been so cursed to lose a parent so young?

“By night,” Marcus continued, “He was to keep a close distance. He wasn’t to interfere with your meals once you became immortal.”

“Once I became immortal? I wasn’t always?” This was new. If I’d been a vampire, I hadn’t considered that I’d been human in any way.

“You became immortal when you were thirty-five,” he explained. “That’s when you drank blood for the first time.”

I closed my eyes, cringing at that very thought.

“Phoebe, they didn’t have blood banks back then. Vampires fed directly from humans—some still do,” he added disapprovingly.

I nodded my head in understanding. It still didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“Now, I told you the war had been going on for nearly a thousand years, but at its birth, not all the werewolves felt the same. Some were content serving the vampires; Damen was content serving you. He didn’t want to leave you—ever!”

I listened with hungry ears. This was what I’d been waiting for, another piece to my puzzle.

“Your father watched him relentlessly, constantly testing his loyalty to him and the coven. Luther feared Damen’s devotion to you was much more than him just being loyal to the coven. Even then, Luther knew Damen’s feelings would betray you one day;” he spoke with venom in his words.

“You had been with Damen for so long. You didn’t realize his feelings for you had turned into a deep love—a forbidden love. He was insanely jealous of anyone who got close to you.”

“So I didn’t have any . . . relationships?” I asked casually. I could feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment. I tried to avoid Marcus's eyes.

“You had a few interests,” Marcus shrugged. “You and Raymose were involved at one time.”

“We were?”

“Many years before we met. I believe Damen had a role in the downfall of that relationship, although he’d never admit to it,” Marcus scoffed. “Years later, Raymose naturally tried to win your affection back, but I’m told, you were much too busy slaying werewolves.” His laugh touched his eyes. “That was my good fortune to be sure,” he bowed his head once again.

“I’m sure it was my good fortune as well,” I said, meeting his stare.

His eyes grew slowly darker. “There was a time, the year before your birthday, the one in which we first met . . . something happened to you. You never spoke about it.”

“I looked at him curiously, trying to search my mind for any pieces Damen may have left me.

“You left the safety of the coven,” he prompted.

I gasped. “I remember! Or rather, I remember Damen’s memories,” I clarified. “Some of them anyway.” I sank back into the couch, my mind wandering through bits and pieces of the past.

Marcus watched me for a moment. “
What
do you remember?” He asked apprehensively.

“We were walking through a forest, Damen and I. It was dark. I remember there was a full moon . . . I was dancing under its light. We were laughing,” I smiled at the image in my head. “I misplaced my foot and fell—”

“Naturally,” Marcus commented.

I gave him a dry look. “Damen lifted me off the ground. It wasn’t the first time he’d picked me up.” I recalled. “But it was the first time he’d ever really held me, close I mean.” My thoughts slipped into a chasm deep within my mind.

“What is it?” Marcus interrupted my reverie.

I shook my head. “Damen, he . . .” I couldn’t say it. My heart started to pound. The reality of it was too awful. No one should have to carry the burden of these images.

“He what?” Marcus urged me to continue. “You never told me about this,” He moved closer to me. “You never told anyone but Raymose,” I could hear a hint of jealously in his voice.

“There’s a good reason you were never told.” I could envision how Marcus would have reacted to the mental slide show going on in my head—I shuddered at the thought.

“Phoebe, you’re scaring me.”

“Marcus, I—I don’t know what to say. I feel like a deer in the headlights. I can’t. That Phoebe didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. I shouldn’t have these memories. I don’t
want
these memories! They’re not mine. They’re his!” I nearly shouted.

I held my head tightly. The images were so clear, as if they’d just happened—as if they’d just happened to
me
. The blood; the screaming . . . I couldn’t escape them . . .

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. I covered my face with my hands, trying to clear my mind. I could feel Marcus standing over me now. I couldn’t look at him.

“Tell me.”

I shook my head no. “It’s too dreadful.”

His hands gripped my shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into my arms as he lifted me off the couch, shaking me slightly. “Tell me!” he commanded.

“He mauled her!” I cried. The words fell out of my mouth faster than I could think to catch them. I watched Marcus's face fall as I uttered the words. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He released me as he staggered back a little.

I fell back onto the couch. I sat there, quivering. I stared at him in disbelief, tears pooling in my eyes. “How could he?” I asked. “He said he loved her. He told her that he was in love with her!” I cried freely as I witnessed the attack once again in my head.

I clutched my head in my hands as I rocked myself back and forth. I would never be able to wipe these images away. Never.

“Phoebe . . .”

“She laughed at him,” I said through tears. Cutting off anything Marcus might have said. “She called him a romantic fool,” I scoffed. “She told him that she could never love a werewolf and that he needed to spend time with his own kind.” I shook my head in disgust. “I hurt him. She hurt him!” I said defensively. “No wonder he wants to kill me, she was so hateful—how could he have loved her? How could you have?” I demanded.

I pushed myself off the couch and walked aimlessly around the room.

“Phoebe, look at me. Look. At. Me.” Marcus's voice was sharp.

I reluctantly met his stare. “She . . .
you
couldn’t have known he’d react that way.” Marcus's voice was surprisingly low. “You were an amazing woman. You were kind to everyone, and I mean everyone! You wouldn’t have said those things if you didn’t have cause.”

I shook my head. “Then why do I feel a sense of guilt for what she’d said to him,” I clarified. “A sense of anger even for what he did to her.” I looked at Marcus for understanding.

“What . . . did he do . . . exactly?” he spoke each word slowly through gritted teeth.

I felt chilled all of a sudden. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm them. I couldn’t think of this woman in the memory as me. I had to separate us.
That
Phoebe, no matter how much we looked alike, no matter the reason for me owning her memories, was not I.

“He threw her on the ground.” My eyes drifted back to Marcus's. He looked murderous—anticipating the worst—he wouldn’t be disappointed.

“He’s stronger than any man she’d ever fought or any werewolf for that matter,” I admitted. My tone was matter-of-fact. I had to keep us separated, although the panic I felt was very personal. It began to consume me. “He was wild, uncontrollable!” I continued, cringing at the memory. I held my hands, trying to stop them from shaking. “The weight of his body was crushing me.” I sucked in a breath of air. I couldn’t separate us any longer. The Phoebe getting mauled in my head and the Phoebe standing before Marcus were one in the same. I stared at Marcus in disbelief. “I couldn’t push him off me!” I cried. “Then he began to change. I thrashed and hissed . . . I couldn’t break free!”

Marcus looked as though he were coming completely unstuck. He reached out to hold me but I put my hands out, not wanting to be touched; I cringed away from him.

“If these are Damen’s memories . . . I wouldn’t have this perspective,” I argued. “If these were Phoebe’s . . . they couldn’t be in my head.”

Marcus's face looked pained. By the look in his eyes, I could tell there was so much he wanted to say, but he remained silent. Perhaps he couldn’t find the words? It didn’t matter right then. My words would be the ones to change everything:

“They’re mine,” I gasped. A single tear ran down my face. I felt it slide down my cheek and linger for a moment before it fell; and with it, part of my sanity slipped away too. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Marcus wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into the safety of his love. “They’re my memories.” I cried.

“Darling I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to make you relive that,” he said in shame.

I let him rock me slowly, the rhythm calming me slightly. I forced a smile as I looked up at him. “I must seem an emotional wreck to you?”

“No.” His eyes were so gentle as they looked upon me. “Why did you not tell me?” I could hear the pain in his voice. He pulled me back to him. This was a burden he’d have gladly carried for me . . . for her . . .

I smiled to myself. Even Marcus had accepted that she and I were one in the same; but how could that be?

“Raymose told me later that my father was furious with Damen for returning without me,” I explained. “Raymose was the one sent to find me. He brought me back to my father.”

“Did you ever tell your father what had happened; what Damen had done to you?”

I shook my head. “He suspected, although he never knew the full truth. I could never tell him. It was . . . shameful.” I tried to rub away the headache that was pounding across my forehead.

“Luther ordered Damen’s death immediately after my return, yet Damen had already fled,” I added.

Marcus nodded his head in understanding. I guessed that he knew this part of the story. He didn’t ask any more questions. “No wonder Raymose was so protective of you.” Marcus spoke as if I’d just uncovered a small mystery that had been haunting him.

“Marcus. I can’t fight him,” I admitted without thinking. “He’s too strong.” I could hear the panic in my voice as I watched the attack once again in my mind.

“You won’t have to,” he promised as he rocked me gently in his arms. “You won’t have to.”

“I remember my father’s face.”

Marcus stopped rocking me. He swallowed loudly then pulled back to look at me. “Phoebe, you have to give me time to figure this out. I can’t just show up at Luther’s house with you, like this. Please understand.”

“I do. It’s just . . . I look like her. I have her memories.” I said in frustration. “I know I’m not her. I can’t be her.” It was a lie, and I knew it.