The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (14 page)

“Megan is my cousin,” Amelia cut in, impeding anyone else from trying to declare their objections.  “She is from my coven and she is marked for Eric.”  Amelia swiped the hair from Megan’s neck and turned her head to give a clear view of the mark and Eric’s name.  Once everyone got a good look, she went on and said, “She is part of this house, and she will be treated as my equal.”

Mitchell felt his jaw drop. 
Amelia!
he sent, flustered and silent. 
You don’t know her.  Don’t give her that kind of power.

Trust me,
she replied without even looking at him, and even though he thought it was a mistake, he trusted her more than he trusted anyone, so he gestured for Megan to take to the floor.

“Like I was saying, I have secured the complex,” Megan continued in a crystal clear voice.  “The spells will repel anyone who tries to enter with the intention to cause harm to anyone behind the gates.  It’s a temporary fix, but it should be enough to keep everyone safe until we have a permanent solution.”

“Good thinking, Megan,” Mitchell said, trying to sound like he stood behind the girl one-hundred percent, even though his gut told him trusting this new witch was a mistake no matter who she was or even who she belonged to.  “I want all of you to go home and stay inside.  Don’t leave the gates no matter what.  Once we have a plan, we will reconvene.”

“What do you mean
once
we have a plan?” Eric asked.  “You don’t have a plan?”

CHAPTER 14

Amelia wasn’t quite sure how, but she kept her cool and dealt with all the frightened people.  By the time she finished reassuring everyone and getting them out of the house, it was a little after 1:00 in the morning.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Luke asked; his hazel eyes were slightly puffy and a lot less enquiring than normal.

Amelia looked around at her family.  Everyone was there except for Mitchell, and each one of them had the same puffy, bloodshot eyes as Luke.  Erin fiddled around in the kitchen and was busy unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the counters.  Lola stood off in a corner with a distant, unseeing look in her eyes.  Angelle and Tyler sat side by side at the kitchen island; their shoulders pressed tightly together and small glistening trails snaked down their cheeks.  Eric stood on the porch with Megan, his voice broken and creaking as he cried on her shoulder, blaming himself for leaving Mabel alone at the mall.

“I’m okay, Luke,” Amelia said.  She let herself sink to the floor, resting her head against the wall and pulling her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly.  After a few deep breaths, trying to keep her voice strong, she said, “Take Lola upstairs and try to get some rest.”

He looked like he was about to protest, but then his shoulders dropped and he nodded before putting an arm around Lola and leaving the room.

“Angelle, we should also turn in,” Tyler said.  “Get some sleep so we can start fresh in the morning.  We’ll have to call the funeral home and…” he stopped, cut off by a gasping sob that fell from Angelle.  He pulled her up, keeping a tight arm around her, and she cried onto his shoulder.  “You're gonna be okay if we go, Millie?”

Amelia tried to put on a brave face, but she wasn’t sure if she pulled it off.  She glanced around the kitchen not wanting them to see how much she was hurting.  Someone needed to stay strong, and it definitely wasn’t going to be Mitchell.  He had hardly been able to keep the panic under control earlier.  She noticed the muddy floors and the blood-coated glasses left behind from a house full of vampires, and said, “Yeah, I’m just going to clean up a bit and then check on Mitch.”

Once they left, Amelia rested her forehead on her knees, waiting for the pain to start, the tears to fall.  But they didn’t.  No matter how much she wanted to cry and grieve, she couldn’t.

“Amelia, I’m sorry to ditch you right now, but I’m going to take Eric to bed.”

Amelia sighed and glanced up, meeting Megan’s concern-clouded face.  “You sure?  I could take him back to my room if you want,” she offered.  The last thing she wanted was for something to happen with them, and she really hadn’t had time to watch and see how they were handling the changes with the bond.

Megan was quick to reassure her, and Amelia guessed she could sense her turmoil over the situation just as she could sense Megan’s distress over Eric’s condition.  “It’s okay,” she said.  Then she continued the thought just between them,
I’m really okay, and honestly, I don’t think I could handle another night away from him.

Amelia gave her a half-hearted smile before Megan and Eric turned to leave. Before they disappeared Amelia called, “Hey, Meg, thanks.”  Megan gave a weak smile over her shoulder and then vanished with Eric down the hall.

Once they left, Erin sunk down beside her, resting her head on Amelia’s shoulder and clutching her hand.  Amelia wasn’t sure how long they sat like that before Erin finally spoke.  “She was like a mother to me.”

“Me, too,” Amelia answered because Mabel truly was.  She had taken on that role; filling the void, the need for parental guidance, support and love.  And she had done it naturally, as if Amelia had been her own daughter, her own flesh and blood.

After some time, Amelia got up and started sweeping up the dried mud, too tired to actually mop, and at some point Erin went to bed.  It was just after 4:00 in the morning when she finally went to her room, and that’s where she found Mitchell.  He didn’t look up when she walked in, keeping his face buried in his hands.  His body heaved softly, and she knew he was crying.  Amelia stood there for a second, unsure whether she should leave or go to him.  Then she noticed the blood on his hands and the stains on his shirt.  Mabel’s blood.

With careful steps, she approached him.  “Mitchell, you should get changed.”  She took his hand and coaxed him out of the chair.  “Let me run you a bath, honey.”  He sighed, a long, sad sound, and then nodded.

Amelia led him into their private bathroom.  She bustled about, turning on the water, gathering towels, adding bubble bath, and when everything was set, she inched towards the door.

“Amelia,” he said softly.  She glanced back and saw the tears cascading down his cheeks.  “Thank you.”

Amelia didn’t know what to do so she did the best thing she could think of.  She dug deep, remembering her happiest memories and sent the strongest feeling of love she could pull up to him.

Mitchell soaked it up, and his lips curved slightly.   Amelia left him, shutting the door behind her.  A moment later, she heard his deep breath and then the water swish as he got in the tub.

She padded over to the closet to grab some pajamas.  As she was rummaging around, a sharp, burning pain hit her and she gasped, reaching up to her throat.  It was unbearable and felt as if she was on fire and no amount of water would put it out.  She didn’t know what it was, but the inferno grew and it felt like blisters were forming on the inside of her throat.

Amelia swallowed hard and she struggled for breath.  She wasn’t sure how she figured it out, but all of a sudden, she knew that the burning sensation was not her throat.  It was his.  Mitchell was projecting, something he rarely did, but with his distress, she guessed that he probably didn’t even notice he was doing it.  He was hungry.

Pushing away her own issues with the whole blood drinking thing, Amelia went off to the kitchen.  She never really figured out why it bothered her. She was okay when he drank from her.  She actually liked it.  But thinking of him drinking someone else’s blood, their life…

Amelia tapped softly on the bathroom door before pulling it open.  “I felt your hunger,” she said, inching her way in, a steaming mug in hand.  “I heated it up for you.”

Mitchell accepted the mug with obvious surprise.  He knew just how much she hated the idea of serving him blood.  He downed the contents quickly, placing the mug out of sight.

Amelia felt awkward, shifting back and forth, right to left.  Mitchell rarely showed weakness.  He looked so lost, so alone, and she just didn’t know how to help him.  “I’ll…just call if you need anything,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

Before turning away, Amelia let her eyes linger on his sky blue eyes, his strong chest, and she was surprisingly thankful for the bubbles in the tub because, well, knowing he was naked just inches from her was not something she should be thinking about.  At least not something she should be thinking about now.

Suddenly, his hand jumped out and he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the tub, fully clothed.  She squealed and squirmed, trying to get out of his grasp.  “Mitchell,” she shrieked, pushing against his chest.

He effectively silenced her, cupping her face and pressing his lips to hers in a greedy kiss.  His lips were warm and soft and tasted salty from the tears.  His kiss deepened and a metallic taste filled her mouth.

Blood.

She could taste the blood he had just drunk.  She started to pull away when an urgent need emanated from him, hitting her with a breathtaking force and the world went out of focus.  Desire growled from somewhere deep within her, and the blood was suddenly the last thing on her mind.  He let his hands travel up, taking the clip from her hair and letting the curls fall down her back.

“I don’t want you to go, Amelia,” Mitchell breathed against her lips, making her entire body tremble.  He pulled back, taking her in—examining her face, and she licked her lips hungrily.

It was almost as if she was seeing him—really seeing him—for the first time.  All the walls were down.  He was vulnerable and acting impulsively.  And Mitchell rarely acted impulsively, not since…  “You don’t mean that,” she whispered, remembering all the times he had stopped them from going too far.

He looked hurt, confused, frustrated and raw, and she scrambled to find her footing, standing up in the tub.  Her thin dress clung to her, leaving nothing undisclosed.  She watched his eyes take in every inch of her thin, flat body.  Feeling uncomfortable and acutely aware, she went to step out of the tub.  Mitchell took her hand.

“Please don’t go.”  His lips touched her fingertips and trailed their way up her arm, and her knees went weak, shaking and trembling.  He gave her a small tug, and she let herself fall into his arms.

At one time, Amelia had imagined how absolutely perfect her first time with Mitchell would be.  Now though, she wasn’t so sure.  What if she made a mistake?  What if it wasn’t everything he had expected?  It wasn’t as if it was his first time.  He had experience.  Like eight hundred years of experience, and that, that was, kind of, sort of, intimidating.  Who was she trying to kid?  It was terrifying.  Her heart started pounding in her chest, beating painfully loud.  She sucked in a quick breath.  “They’ll hear us,” she said lamely, not able to think of anything else.

“Let them hear, Amelia.”

His hands trailed up her wet body as he slowly removed her dress, and she let out a nervous little giggle.  She was vibrating all over, his touch felt like an electric current surging under her skin.  His love was radiating from him, filling her—blissful.  It was as if she was full of light, spitting from her fingertips, gushing from her toes—warm, bright, sunlight.

His lips found hers with a hunger that she had never felt before, and when their tongues touched, wet and hot and oh so sweet, he moaned.  The sensation traveled through her, tickling her nerves.  She felt like she had grabbed a live wire; sparks igniting all over her body, bursting with energy, erupting and exploding and…

“What was that?” Mitchell asked breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

Amelia felt hot and sick and breathless—full of horror.  What had she done?  How could she use her magic?  Why couldn’t she control it?  How could she hurt him?  She covered her mouth with both hands, swallowing a horrified cry.  The way he was looking at her, as if he was in shock, his eyes…  It was too much and she scurried back, splashing water over the edge of the deep, circular tub.

This was what she had been afraid of.  She knew, just knew, she would make a mistake.  She silently cursed her stupid gift.  Why did it have to ruin this, too?  Hadn’t the magic cause enough problems between them?  She couldn’t look at his face any longer, and she let her gaze drop.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he reached out, pulling her back to his embrace, littering her lips with chaste kisses.

He let the kisses travel along her cheek and he nibbled on her earlobe.  “Whatever it was, do it again,” he whispered.  “It was amazing.”

Amelia laughed a little wildly.  Barely able to contain the relief that was welling up inside her, she let the insecurities melt away.

Mitchell kissed her again, a deliciously warm kiss—the sweetest, gentlest kiss he had ever given her.  But that kiss quickly changed.  There was more passion, more urgency, more everything.  It was as if she had been swooped up into the center of a tornado, swept way, spinning around in a whirlwind, and she never wanted to touch the ground again.  It would be good to die like this, lost forever in this windstorm of emotion.

Amelia felt a bit awkward, not knowing which way to move, what to do.  It didn’t matter how many books she had read, or movies she had seen; nothing could have prepared her for this.  But how could they prepare her?  What book had soulmates that could read each other’s minds?  What movie showed a couple that were linked together, emotionally and mentally?

Mitchell chuckled.  “You’re thinking too much, love,” he said into her mouth, his voice vibrating throughout her entire body.  And then the world evaporated into a glorious blend of lights and bells and divine heat.

“Something’s changed,” Amelia said, snuggling a bit closer against his chest and surveying the mess.  There wasn’t much water left in the tub; most of it dripping from the ceiling and puddled on the floor.

“Changed how?” Mitchell asked, sounding worried and shifting slightly so he could meet her eyes.

“The bond, it just feels…different somehow.”

The realization of what had just happened hit her, and fire burned over her entire body.  Amelia was certain that even her toes were rosy with the blush.  She was naked, in the tub with Mitchell.  Her Mitchell.  And she was talking to him as if…as if they were dressed and sitting around casually.  What if he regrets it?  Had they been too impulsive?  What if he didn’t think she was pretty now?  Full of nerves and feeling way too exposed, she scooted away and reached for one of the dampened towels.