Waking Dreams (A Soul's Mark Novella) (10 page)

Eric shrugged.  “Stirring was taking too
long.”  His heart was jumping into his throat, and he could barely catch his
breath.  He snuck a peek at the girl, and it took everything he had not to run
to her and take her in his arms.

“You’re such a dork—and what’s with the
hair?” Angelle laughed, pulling him out of his thoughts.  “You look like a
little punk.”

“Don’t knock the hair,” Eric said, leaning
back against the island, arms folded across his chest.

“You can’t go to the office like that,”
Angelle said.

“Don’t have to.  I’ve been promoted to
personal chauffeur.  And I think it looks great.  I thought you would
appreciate it.”  He batted his eyes and struck a pose.  “It totally matches my
eyes.”  He looked Amelia over again, and then pushed off from the counter,
strolling towards her, and he felt a grin spread across his face.  He dropped
into a gallant bow, and a cute little giggle slipped from her lips.  He took
her hand in his, and kissed it lightly.  “Welcome, my lady,” he said playfully.

Angelle groaned.  “You are such a moron.”

Eric forced a laugh and dropped Amelia’s
hand.  If he had hoped that his skin would sizzle as it did when he had touched
his Megan, he was disappointed.  He strolled back over to the island, and
leaned lazily, elbows propping him up.

“This is Mabel,” Angelle said with laughter
in her voice.  “She’s our housekeeper, cook, and den mother.”

“Hello, dear.  How was your trip?” Mabel
asked distractedly.

“It was okay,” Amelia answered, with the
same sweet tones that Megan’s voice held.  As she spoke, he watched her
intently, waiting, wishing she would show some sign, any sign, that she felt
something, anything, being so close to him.

“That’s good, dear.  Look at this
disaster.”  Mabel let out a long, exasperated sigh.  “At least I caught him
before he burnt the house down.”  She paused, scrubbing at the counters.  “Why
in the world were you making pancakes?  It’s almost dinner time.”

“She had a long trip,” he shrugged. 
“Thought she’d be hungry.”  Eric was still leaning against the counter,
watching the girl, scanning her over from head to toe.  Her heart was racing, fluttering
like a humming bird’s wings, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

“We just finished rebuilding the kitchen
from the last time Eric tried to cook,” Angelle added.

“Um, can I help clean up?” Amelia asked,
and took a small step towards the sink, looking around.

“That’s okay, dear,” Mabel said.  “You two
run along now, and I’ll clean up this mess.”  Mabel made a shoo-ing gesture and
shot Eric a look, not a good one.

“That’s her nice way of saying get out of
my space,” Angelle said, ushering the girl away from the mess.  “Believe me,
you don’t want to stay and help.  Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.” 
Angelle snagged the girl’s hand and started pulling her through the kitchen. 
As they went, Angelle glanced over her shoulder at him and said, “Eric, bring
Millie’s bag to her room.”

“Make the tour quick,” Mabel said.  “I
don’t want you to be late for dinner.  I’m making your favorite, Amelia, Fettuccini
Alfredo with chicken.”

Angelle towed her through an open doorway,
out of the kitchen, and into the living room.

The girl snuck a peek over her shoulder at Eric,
catching him staring.  His eyes met hers, and his heart stopped.  They drew him
in, and everything around him vanished.  She flushed, and her beautiful heart
fluttered.  He had an overwhelming urge to run to her, pull her in his arms,
and sink his teeth into her neck.  He wanted to claim her.  He wanted his name to
appear on her neck.  She licked her lips, and right then he knew he could, and
she would let him.

She’s not yours!
his conscious hissed, breaking the spell.  He blinked and gave his
head a little shake.  She gasped, and he forced a grin on his face.  He winked
at her and turned away, leaving the kitchen as fast as he could.

Crap! Crap! Crap!
  The word echoed through his brain with each step he took.  How the
hell could this happen?  What if Mitchell was wrong?  Okay, Eric knew that was
impossible.  You can’t be wrong about the soulmate bond.  It just doesn’t
happen.  Mitchell had been dreaming about that … that … girl for five years. 
But
… but …
his brain couldn’t finish the thought.

Eric rushed into his bedroom, closing the
door, and leaned against it.  He didn’t know how he would survive this or even
if he could.  No matter what his brain told him, his heart was pulling him in
another direction.  And his stupid, reckless heart was sure that his father’s
Amelia was, in fact, his Megan.

###

Ashley Stoyanoff lives in Whitby, Ontario and
loves diving into the magical world of creating fiction. When not writing, she
can be found reading sappy novels, watching cheesy chick flicks, and buying far
too many clothes.

Connect with Ashley Stoyanoff online:

www.ashleystoyanoff.com

www.facebook.com/AshleyStoyanoffTheSoulsMark

www.goodreads.com/ashley_stoyanoff

Read on for a preview of Ashley
Stoyanoff’s award winning novel, The Soul’s Mark: FOUND, Book 1 of The Soul’s
Mark Series.

Salem, Massachusetts, 1692

Racing through the dense woodland, a heavy
cloud of smoke billowed upwards, cresting above the herbaceous border and
confirming his soundless fears.  Still miles away, he could already smell the
pungent curdling of her blood as it began to boil, and the vile stench of
searing flesh.  Undeniably, the firestorm was spreading, and he struggled to
drive out the image of the flames reaching up her body.

He cursed his heightened senses, wishing he
could block out the ruthless chanting, “Burn the Witch!”  The unyielding voices
only helped his psyche run wild, and the graphic image of her tied to a post
and set ablaze etched itself in his vision.

Her fear consumed him, rupturing their bond
like a sudden cloudburst, and his body threatened to surrender to the
inevitable fate marked for his soul.  Regardless, the chain around his heart
yanked him forwards. 
You need to save her,
he told himself over and
over, battling his body’s attempts to give up and abandon the rescue.  He
pushed on, raw adrenaline propelling him forward.  But even with the
unparalleled velocity and power of a vampire, his limbs would not move fast
enough.

The smoke cloud rose mercilessly, thick and
black and punctuated by the sparks of glowing embers as he broke into the
clearing at Salem Commons.  A mob of several hundred onlookers cheered for her
execution.  He watched in horror as they tossed books, chairs, and brush onto
the fire that was licking up her dress.

Their eyes met, and the look of pure hatred
that contorted her face was agonizing.  His knees buckled, and he plunged to
the ground.  He focused all of his energy on pulling her spirit to him but it
was futile: no matter what he tried, she would not let him ease her pain.

The congregation’s savage chanting became
deafening.  The flames licked at her cheeks, and her long, curly locks were set
ablaze, melting and sparking, but she did not howl from the pain.  Silently,
her gray-blue eyes remained fixed on his, and flared with accusation.  At that
moment, he knew without a doubt that she blamed him, solely and entirely, for
her cold-blooded death sentence.

His tortured wails were scarcely heard over
the fevered roars of the mob.  He watched, powerless, as one of the very few
things that could kill him—the blazing inferno—devoured her body and his soul,
turning her into nothing more than ash.

The Greyhound bus pulled into the
Willowberg station with a sucking pneumatic hiss.  Amelia Caldwell shuddered as
the driver announced the arrival and wondered if she could just stay on the
bus.  She hated moving.  And she really hated change.  It seemed as if that was
all she had ever done.

On the ten-hour ride, she had almost
convinced herself that this time would be different.  This time she would make
friends.  She would not be the sad girl who lost her parents or the girl that
no one wanted.  No one would know her story; she could just start over.  A
clean slate.  But now that the doors clicked open and she was actually here,
her resolve was fading fast.

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and
looked down at her lap, hugging tightly and trying to stop the trembles that
vibrated through her.  She could feel the other passengers staring at her as
they retrieved their belongings and made their way off the bus.  People always
seemed to stare.

She never really understood why she
couldn’t just blend into the crowd.  At five foot four, she wasn’t tall.  With
a slim figure, curly brown hair and blue-gray eyes, she felt average. 
Definitely not eye-catching.  But there was just something about her, something
she did not understand that made people notice her.  It was like they just
couldn’t help but stare.

Amelia kept her head down, waiting for the
other passengers to leave. 
It’s not fair
, a voice in her head
bellowed.  It was supposed to be different this time, better somehow.  Her eyes
burned, she was shaking, and she knew she was going to cry.

Willowberg was supposed to be her new start
at life.  Despite all her fears of moving, she had been so sure that she was
making the right decision.  It had seemed like a dream come true.  A full
scholarship, housing arranged and paid for, and the University of Willowberg
was even providing a basic living allowance so that she wouldn’t have to work.

Amelia sighed, scrubbing furiously at her
puffy, pink eyes.  Gulping down a few breaths, she wondered why she had
accepted the scholarship.  Especially after she found out she would be living
off campus, in a house with roommates.  If they didn’t like her, just as she
knew they wouldn’t, she would be alone.  Completely alone.  There would not be
dorm advisors that would have to be nice to her or other nerdy girls to study
with.  It would just be her and the roommates who thought she was a freak.

You can do this,
Amelia told herself sternly, swallowing the prickly lump in her throat
and stretching her cheeks into a forced—and she hoped—realistic smile.  She
picked up her backpack and padded her way off the bus.

Amelia had just stepped onto the platform,
into the bright sun, when a clear, musical voice called her name.

“Amelia?  Amelia Caldwell?”

She looked up to see a stunningly beautiful
girl walking towards her.  Nearly six feet tall, with silky auburn hair and big
brown eyes, highlighted with a touch of liner and mascara.  She looked a bit
older, maybe twenty, Amelia guessed.  And she was all legs, eyes and pouty
lips: the perfect supermodel body.

Completely dumbfounded, Amelia just stood
and stared at this gorgeous girl, who was smiling at her, talking to her.  She
looked friendly and, though Amelia could not be sure, almost appeared as if she
was genuinely happy to see her.

“I was getting worried you didn’t catch the
bus on time,” the girl said, her big childlike brown eyes wide with concern. 
She rushed over, throwing her arms around Amelia, crushing her in a big bear
hug.  “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

Amelia dropped her bag, landing with a thud
on the ground and stood stiff and rigid, not returning the embrace.  Affection
was foreign to her.  People didn’t usually touch her, not like this.  It took
her a moment, but once the initial shock passed, she wiggled her way out of the
girl’s arms and took a step back.

“My, where are my manners.  You must think
I’m crazy!” the musical voice sang out and the girl extended her hand to
Amelia.  “I’m Angelle O’Connor, your new roommate.”

With a shaky, unsure hand, Amelia accepted
the shake, pumping it twice in a quick, fluid motion, cleared her throat and
said, “Um... Hi.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh honey, you look as scared as a deer
caught in headlights.  Are you okay?” Angelle asked, giving Amelia a concerned
look.

Amelia had not noticed how scared she truly
was until Angelle said it.  She could feel her body shaking and the all too
familiar prickly feeling in her eyes warned her she was about to cry again. 
She sucked in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and attempted to smile,
trying to conceal how much she wanted to run away and hide, and then she lied,
“I’m okay.  I’m just tired.  It was a really long trip.”

“Well then, let’s get you home,” Angelle
said.  Her big brown eyes glanced around, settling on Amelia’s backpack. 
Surprised, she asked, “Is this all you brought?”

Amelia bit her lip for a scared second and
a nervous knot emerged deep in her gut.  She remembered the last time she had
moved and the reaction from the other kids.  They had teased her and called her
names, treating her like a bum, an outcast.  And for some reason, which she
just did not understand, Amelia knew she would just die if Angelle treated her
the same way.  She dropped her head, shuffling her feet, because she really
could not stand it if the girl looked at her the way others had.  Kids could be
just so… mean.  Hesitantly, she nodded.