The Soul's Mark: FOUND

Page 26

Eric must have noticed that she deflated like a popped balloon and grinned at her. “Do you trust me?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Did she? She didn’t want to, that was for sure. What kind of a question was that anyways? And how could she trust him? Like, really trust him after everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.
Eric noticed her hesitation. She had never been good at lying and her mother had always told her that she was an open book and her face always gave away what she was feeling. He sighed, a sad sound. “Millie, I’m not going to hurt you.” He paused, gauging her reaction, and when she still hesitated, he continued, “I get it. I led you on. I’m a big jerk and I’m sorry. Really I am. I just…” He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek and then a look of horror crossed his face and he promptly dropped his hand and his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get past the trees and onto the street. You can’t run fast enough to not be seen but I can. If you’ll let me, I can carry you across.”
Everything after that happened in a blur. Mitchell started yelling at her through the bond, frantically looking for her. Amelia started to tremble and in a panic she hopped onto Eric’s back, not wanting to face Mitchell yet, and Eric took off for the trees. In under a second, he was setting her down on the sidewalk.
Amelia was dizzy and her stomach queasy. She bent over, sucking in deep, calming breaths. Eric cleared his throat and rubbed her back. “We need to get moving if you want to get in any running time, Millie.” Her head was pounding and Mitchell started yelling incoherently, words too loud and too panicked to really understand them. Her chest hurt and she couldn’t breathe. She tried desperately to suck in air but it was as if her lungs had collapsed and her throat had closed up and no air could get in. Amelia searched for Eric. She could hear him, his voice distant but she couldn’t find him. Little spots, all the colors of the rainbow, flickered across her eyes. Her lungs were burning and she was sure her face was turning blue. She needed air, needed to breathe. A stabbing pain, like a knife ripping into her stomach, sent her crumbling to the ground and she screamed, pushing out the last of her precious oxygen from her body.
CHAPTER 18
As quickly as the pain started, it vanished, leaving Amelia drained and breathless.
Mitchell’s voice blasted in her mind, Love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are you okay? He sounded so sad, so ashamed it brought the sting of tears to her eyes and her heart swelled, just a little. He could control it. He was trying to control the pain.
After a few more shaky breaths, Amelia cleared her mind enough to answer him. I’m okay. Even in her mind, the words sounded shaky and unsure and she was glad she didn’t have to actually use her voice.
The link was silent for a long moment and she could feel him, poking around in her brain, sifting through her thoughts. It was the strangest feeling, one she wasn’t sure she would be able to get used to. She knew the exact moment when he found her. The images of her in the blue jogging suit standing at the tree line flashed before her eyes and she felt him breathe a sigh of relief. You went for a run, he said, sounding bemused.
Um, yeah, with Eric. Amelia sent the thought to him hesitantly. Would he let her go? Would he order her back to the house? A quick flash of rage passed through the bond but he quickly extinguished it and she knew how hard he was trying to keep his calm. When he didn’t say anything she asked, is that okay?
Mitchell stayed silent for a minute and Amelia couldn’t get a handle on his thoughts. They were just so muddled up it was hard to tell. When he answered her, it sounded tight and forced. Fine, he sent, obviously annoyed and angry and she winced. He must have felt it because at that very moment, Mitchell sent a warm and sparkly burst of tenderness and then she felt him recede, drifting out of her thoughts, but still somehow staying on the sidelines.
“You okay, Millie?” Eric asked. He was kneeling in front of her, scanning her over with concern. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think he would freak like that.”
Amelia forced a smile. “I’m good.” She rolled up to her feet, feeling more stable with every passing second, and she did a few light stretches.
“You sure?” Eric asked, frowning. “Do we need to go back?”
Amelia felt every muscle in her body clench and she clamped her lips together in a thin line. Was this how it was going to be? she wondered. When Mitchell says jump, they all jump? “I’m sure and no, we don’t need to go back.” Her voice came out short with a tint of annoyance and she felt bad. This wasn’t his fault. Eric was just trying to help her, get her out of the house, and she was taking it out on him.
To her surprise, Eric chuckled. “Glad to see having Mitch around hasn’t sweetened you up any, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get my morning dose of bitchiness from you.”
Amelia glared at him, but it must not have been convincing because he just laughed.
The run helped, a lot, in fact, and by the time they got back Amelia was drenched in sweat—Eric, to her utter astonishment, was not—and she almost felt… okay. At least she did until she walked into the kitchen and the tension that filled the room forced her roughly back to reality. Eric must have felt it too because his joyous laughter stopped abruptly and his expression turned grim.
Mabel stood over the stove, making eggs. Her hands were shaking so bad that when she cracked the egg on the side of the frying pan it would split all the way through, splattering her hands with slivers of the shell and the goopy yoke. Angelle looked like a disaster. She was still in her pajamas—Winnie-the-Pooh shorts and tank top—her hair was dull and limp, as if she hadn’t bothered to brush it, and she had no make-up on. Amelia had never seen her look so… unruly before. She was sitting at the island flipping through a magazine so fast, Amelia was sure she wasn’t actually looking at it, but using it as a reason not to talk to anyone. Mitchell sat beside Angelle, gripping his coffee cup so tightly Amelia wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered in his white-knuckled hands.
Amelia, even though she tried to fight it, couldn’t help but notice how sexy he looked, dressed in jeans and a button up blue and gray striped collared shirt, untucked and unbuttoned, showing off his firm and sculpted abs and chest. He looked up at her and smiled. It was a forced smile, she could tell, but her heart fluttered anyways. Mitchell was trying and that was all that mattered. Amelia gawked at him, physically unable to pull her eyes away. He was a powerful magnet and she a helpless piece of metal, and their mutual attraction was a strong, unbreakable force she knew she was powerless to resist. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to look away. But she just couldn’t.
“Good morning,” Luke called, strolling into the kitchen, not noticing or choosing to ignore the friction in the room.
Amelia sucked in a breath, realizing when the air hit her burning lungs that she had stopped breathing and fire blazed in her red cheeks. You’re supposed to hate him, she scolded herself, disgusted that she couldn’t control the overwhelming urge to run to him and kiss him, touch him, just be close to him. With haste, desperately wanting a diversion, she rushed over to Mabel. “Let me help.” Amelia took the egg out of Mabel’s hand and retrieved a new pan—one that wasn’t caked in eggshells. “Do any of you want breakfast?” she asked, glancing up. It dawned on her that she didn’t know if they actually needed to eat or if they even liked the taste of food. Did they only need to drink blood? They had always eaten with her before but did they have to? Did they want to eat or did they do it just for her benefit? She didn’t know and she didn’t really want to ask.
Mitchell heard her thoughts and chuckled. Amelia bristled. Would she ever be able to have a thought without him knowing it? “We don’t need to eat. The food provides us with no nutritional value but it still tastes good.” He set down his mug and glanced at Mabel, who was now in the fridge looking as if she wanted to climb in and shut the door. “Mabel, why don’t you take the day off? You look like you could use a break.”
Mabel slowly closed the fridge and made her way over to Amelia, taking her hand tightly. Her hand was cold and clammy, Amelia noticed, and she was trembling. “No…” her voice sounded shaky. Mabel cleared her throat and tried again. “No thank you, sir. I would like to stay with Millie.”
Sir? Really? Amelia didn’t get to finish the thought because Mitchell was angry again. It boiled through her like steam from a boiling pot of water and it was all directed at Mabel. It was becoming very clear that Mitchell always got what he wanted and was not used to people outright disobeying him—something Amelia found strangely comforting. At least it was not just her that he expected to be at his beck and call.
Amelia pushed Mabel behind her, and looking back, that was probably a bad idea. There was a collective gasp, hissing like snakes, from her roommates and Amelia saw their pale faces turn stark white. She hadn’t seen him move, but Mitchell was suddenly in front of her, towering over her. She had never felt as small as she did at that very moment. His crimson eyes bore into her and to her horror, his fangs snapped down, white and deadly.
She didn’t know how she mustered the strength, but Amelia squared her shoulders, pushed her head back and looked up, right into those terrifying eyes. “Back off, Mitch,” she said in a lethal voice.
Mitchell laughed wickedly, reached out and grabbed Amelia by the neck, lifting her off the ground. Mabel screamed and pounded her fists on him. She tried to pry his fingers away from Amelia’s neck but he just batted her away as if she was a pesky fly.
Amelia didn’t struggle, she couldn’t breathe, but she just stayed limp in his grip. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t blink and focused her stare on him, willing him to realize what he was doing. She could feel the monster in him taking control. That’s what he was, she realized, a monster. Was there anything human left in him? What had happened to the man from her dreams? The one she had fallen in love with? Was he still in there? She didn’t know, but she truly hoped so, because if not, if he really was just a monster, he could kill her now, and she would be happy. “Please,” she choked out, unable to finish the rest, she sent the thought through their link, just kill me now. I would rather die than spend a lifetime with you.