The Soul's Mark: CHANGED (12 page)

“How is this any different than a bikini?” she asked with a devilish grin.  She ran her finger along the lacey black strap of her bra and arched an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

Mitchell’s lips thinned, and for a second, she thought he was going to yell at her, but then she caught the fire burning in his eyes again, the hunger and the desire.  “Love, do you trust me?” he asked.  His voice was deep and husky.

Amelia cocked her head, watching him intently as she thought about his question.  In theory, it should have been an easy question to answer, but in reality, it wasn’t.  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

Her answer shocked him.  She saw it in his eyes and she heard it in the soft catch of his breath.  “I kind of expected that answer, but I’m not going to lie; it hurts like hell.” His shoulders sagged a little.  “At least I know what’s stopping you now.”

Amelia didn’t know what to say.  She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t entirely that she didn’t trust him.  With the important things, like keeping their family and their town safe, she did.  But when it came to them, to their relationship … love was easy with soulmates, but trust, that had to be earned.  She stepped closer to him and leaned against him, letting him envelope her in his arms.  “What is the three days about?  What happens in three days?”

“I don’t know what happens,” he murmured, hugging her tightly.  His shirt was damp and his skin, hot and sweaty.  “But I know we have to fix the bond like your mother told you.”

“I think I can fix you,” she said, looking up at him and resting her chin on his chest.

He laughed.  Hard.  Her chin bounced on his chest and he smiled down at her.  “I’m not a broken toy, love,” he said through his laughter.

“You know what I mean,” she said, giving him a dirty look, and then she sighed, a gusty sound.  “I’m really sorry I wouldn’t listen to you before.”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle.  He leaned down, littering her face with kisses.  “You know I love you, right?” he murmured against her lips.

“I know.”  She went up on tiptoes, nuzzling at his neck.  “Are you sure you want this?” she asked, letting her fangs graze against the sensitive skin just below his ear.

“More than anything,” he whispered.

Amelia struggled feebly for a moment, over the onslaught of emotions—love, pain, hunger, need—before giving into them.  She nuzzled his neck, her fangs elongating, and she nipped lightly, barely nicking his skin.  Mitchell trembled, only slightly with a shiver.  She could feel his racing heart beating against her chest, and smell his desire thick in the air
, so thick that it masked the infectious odor that had been wafting from his skin.  She kissed the tender skin that covered a throbbing vein in his neck, as she sent a small amount of magic to coat her fangs, hoping it would help dim the pain of the first bite, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and let her fangs sink into his neck.

The taste of his blood exploded on her tongue. 
She’d expected it to be stale and sour, full of infection, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was Mitchell in his finest form—tangy, with a hint of spice.  Exactly how he had smelled before the infection took over his body.  He gasped, stiffening in her arms, and his body tensed against her.  His neck muscles squeezed and tightened, pushing on her fangs, as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his blood.

Luke squeezed Lola’s knee and offered her a small smile, but it didn’t help.  She wanted to go after Amelia so much that it physically hurt.  It was torture watching her suffer like this, and Lola seriously thought that letting Mitchell follow her while she was … unstable was a mistake.  One that they were all going to regret.

Megan was chattering away with Eric about Amelia’s thoughts on the bond.  Her voice grated on Lola’s nerves like a rusty nail scraping along metal.  Eric didn’t add much to the conversation, only grunting blunt responses every few seconds, and if Lola wasn’t so stressed, she probably would have told him to get out of his jerky mood.

As it was, Lola kept her eyes glued to the empty doorway, wishing Amelia or Mitchell, or preferably both of them, would come back.  She understood the logic behind what Mitchell was doing.  Amelia needed to realize that he wouldn’t always be at arm’s reach to soothe her magic when it went all haywire, but still, watching her go through it wasn’t easy.

Lola still didn’t get how Mitchell could calm Amelia so well.  Maybe it was her soul trapped within him, but still, without the bond Lola hadn’t thought that he could have this kind of effect on Amelia.  But he did.  All Mitchell had to do was touch Amelia and her magic would all but vanish into thin air.

She could almost feel Amelia’s pain.  It was a feeling in her gut, an instinct telling her that Amelia needed help.  Luke said it was normal.  Amelia was her child now, and no matter how far apart they were from each other, she’d always be able to feel if Amelia was in trouble, but it was seriously uncomfortable.

Erin whimpered softly, drawing Lola’s attention.  Lola watched as Erin clenched and unclenched her fingers.  Each time her fists balled, her boney knuckles protruded, and the veins along the top of her hands popped.  She hadn’t realized that everyone was so nervous about Amelia biting Mitchell, but as she glanced around she noticed that they all were.

Lola lurched in her seat as a violent shiver spread along her spine.  “It’s going to be okay, honey,” Luke mumbled, patting her thigh.  He offered a forced smile, before focusing back on the doorway Mitchell had just left through.

It’s not going to be okay,
Lola thought, but again, could not voice her fears.  If anything happened to either of them, nothing would ever be okay again; Lola was sure of it.

“So after she bites him she’ll be normal again?” Erin asked, breaking through Megan’s excited rambling.  “No more flaming balls of magic?”

“That’s what he hopes,” Luke said through his teeth.  He was stressed, which was odd for Luke.  Since Lola had met him, he’d always been the calm one.  Nothing ruffled his cool, in control exterior.  But right then he looked as unnerved as the rest of them.

Silence stretched over them, thick and suffocating.  Lola couldn’t remember the last time everyone had been so tense.  She felt like crying and yelling and laughing.  Her emotions, jumbled, like a ball of yarn after being attacked by a kitten.

“Why are you guys so scared about this?” Lucy asked meekly.  “Amelia wouldn’t hurt him, right?”

The question made Lola jerk in her seat.  It was a question that had been playing through her mind since Mitchell had become human, and again, she found herself wondering what she would do if Amelia actually hurt him.

“Not intentionally,” Luke said, giving Lucy a reassuring smile.  He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles along Lola’s knee as if to soothe her.

It wasn’t working.

Lola didn’t understand his answer.  It seemed like a stupid answer to a simple question.  Either she would or she wouldn’t.  Not intentionally just seemed so … vague.  She was about to tell him as much when Eric rolled his eyes and grunted.

“Of course she won’t hurt him.”  Eric’s lips thinned and he shot Lola a look.  “You’ve got to chill out.  You may have a tie to her now, but you’re making this whole thing worse than it has to be.”

“I was trying to help,” Lola said, as tears bit at her eyelids.  “I just wanted her to wait until he could change again.”  She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture.  “So she couldn’t hurt him.”

The screech of a chair, sliding across the marble floor made everyone jump.  “I need …” Angelle started, standing up.  She looked tired and sad.  Really, really sad.  It was weird.  Lola knew that Angelle had liked Tyler, but it wasn’t real love.  More like infatuation.  A vampire couldn’t love anyone other than their soulmate.  Luke had taught her that.  “I need …” Angelle tried again, but her voice hitched and a tear snaked down her cheek.  A small sob escaped and she shrugged her shoulders as if to say she really didn’t know what she needed.

Megan stood up, and reached out a hand towards Angelle.  “Come on, Angelle.  You look like you could use some girl talk.”

Eric growled.  It came from the back of his throat, deep and rough.  His hand jumped out, grabbing Megan’s wrist in what looked to a painful grip.  “Sit down,” he said, yanking Megan back to her chair.

“Eric!” Luke growled.  He stood up, slowly, his eyes locked on Eric with a menacing intensity.

“What the hell, Eric?” Megan snapped, trying to shake off his hand.  But Eric
didn’t get a chance to answer.

Right then, Lola gasped as wave after wave of chills rushed over her skin.  Something snapped inside her, like a branch breaking in half.  She squeezed her eyes shut, and sucked in a noisy breath.  “It’s done.”

Amelia clung onto Mitchell
’s hand in a dream-like state as they walked across the grass.  The dry blades itched at her bare feet, and the smell of pollen and dust was thick in the air.

She saw herself gliding along in her lacy black bra and underwear and she saw him.  His strong arm supporting her, his pearly white smile.  Mitchell was in faded jeans and a squash-colored T-shirt.  His wavy brown hair rested on his forehead, and hugged his
sculpted cheekbones like an outline.

His blood was like alcohol, making her mind cloud, and her reflexes drag.  He chuckled as s
he stumbled, but the sound wasn’t velvety like usual, it was rough and hoarse.

The bond was a
live, feeding her mind with all his thoughts and his plans.  She could see how sick he really was.  She caught glimpses of the rags filled with blood from his coughing, and she could feel the fire burning through his body from the fever.  It all slipped in no matter how hard she tried to push the images away.  And she could feel him in her mind, too.  The soft buzz and the light pull as he moved things aside as if he was searching for something.

“Love, that
’s brilliant,” he said, leading her up the terrace steps.  He guided her through the French doors, and began pulling on her magic.  It was a soft pull, as if he wasn’t consciously doing it, and it felt … right.  As if her magic missed him, missed the connection as much as she had.

“What’
s brilliant?” she asked, her voice slurring over the words.  “Why do I feel ... drunk?”

The pull came again and she saw her magic leaving her body, weaving with the golden chain that tethered them together.  He led her over to a chair, and she plopped down in an ungraceful heap.

“The spell,” he said, smiling down at her.  “The spell is brilliant and you feel drunk because it’s the first time you’ve drank fresh blood straight from a human.  It’ll pass, love.”

His explanation made absolutely no sense and her face screwed up as she attempted to understand.  “But I drank from Josh,” she said.  She rubbed at her face and rolled her shoulders, before looking up at him.

“Josh wasn’t human.  He was still a witch, if not a hunter.”  He smiled, a full, white smile, and then he coughed.  It was a wet cough, and it hurt.  Amelia could feel that he was in pain through the bond.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, not actually hurting her, but she knew it hurt him.  The knowledge gripped at her, twisting and tearing at her heart, and an overwhelming urge to stop his suffering filled her.

Mitchell turned from her, as his chest heaved and his shoulders shook.  He tugged on her magic again, more forceful this time, pulling it to him until his body was saturated in white gleaming light.  Within seconds, the coughing subsided and he pulled in a shaky, wheezing breath.

“You were right,” she whispered.  “I didn’t really know if you’d be able to use the magic.  I hoped but ...”

Mitchell slowly straightened, the white light of magi
c dissipated into the air.  “It’s our souls that let me access it, Amelia.  It had nothing to do with me being a vampire.  Our souls have always connected us.”

Amelia’
s head was slowly starting to clear.  She gazed out the window, the sky had turned to twilight, gray and with a hint of deep blue, and black clouds were slowly rolling in.  “The first day is almost over,” she whispered. 
How?
  Amelia could have sworn it was only early afternoon.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she cried.

“We’
ll figure it out, love,” Mitchell said, his voice full of assurance.  “Together.”

Together.
  The word played through her head.  A word that she never truly believed would apply to them, not really.  They were a couple, they always would be, but together ... it seemed like a dream.

Mitchell’s fingertips brushed against her cheek as he knelt before her.  His warm eyes met hers, and his lips twitched into a playful smile.

“I missed this feeling,” he said.  “It’s like I’m floating.  The bond, the magic …” He sighed then, a wistful kind of sound, and a playful humor danced across his eyes.  “Are you ready to fix me?”

Amelia groaned.  “Who are you and what did you do with my Mitchell?” she asked, eyeing him closely.

He took her hand, fitting it within his own, and raised it to his lips.  His lips pressed against her soft skin, making her heart flip-flop and sparks race through her blood.  Her magic flared, lapping along her skin like an excited puppy, littering her with kisses.