The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (4 page)

So, now here she was, in the shower, recovering from yet another messy situation, and for a second she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about leaving.  She had such an urge to run away from the craziness that had become her life.  But then the thought of Mitchell rushed into her mind, filling her heart and warming her soul.  Mitchell.  She couldn’t leave him.  She wouldn’t.  No matter how awful things could be, he was, in a sense, her other half.  He made her whole, and he was her world.  And she knew, no matter what, she loved him, truly and fully loved him with every fiber, every bone, every blood vessel in her body.

Amelia didn’t know how long she sat there, but the water was getting cooler.  She stood up and absently scrubbed at her body, hardly noticing the sweet fruit scents of her shampoo and body wash, and then turned off the water.

She toweled off quickly, not bothering to look in the mirror—she was sure she wouldn’t like what she saw—and tossed on a bright yellow fleece bathrobe.  She sent out a probe, looking for Mitchell and found him sitting in their room.  Figuring it was better to get the conversation over with, she took a deep breath and ventured out of the connecting bathroom and stepped into their bedroom.

“How are you holding up?” Mitchell asked, glancing up from his newspaper.  He was sitting on one of the marshmallowy chestnut leather chairs in front of the limestone surround fireplace.  He had showered and changed, Amelia noticed, glancing at his disheveled and dampened light brown hair.  He had thrown on a pair of blue jeans and a navy button-up shirt left unbuttoned—of course.  She let her eyes linger on his rippled abs, muscled chest and then slowly made her way up to his strong, chiseled face.  Damn he was hot.  It always amazed Amelia how everything just worked on him.  His eyes, his hair, his smile, even his frown was perfect.  They locked eyes, and for just a second, Amelia held her breath, letting the dreamy, sky blue pull her in.  As she lost herself in his gaze, she could feel the warm flush in her skin; her heart fluttered, and she thought that she might actually be drooling.

A small twitch of his lips upward pulled her out of it.  “Don’t look at me like that,” Amelia replied, straightening her shoulders and walking past him, up the raised landing, past her bed, and into the closet.

He chuckled softly.  “Like what?”

“Like you actually care,” she called back to him and started rummaging through the racks of clothes.

He sighed, a long and gusty sound.  “You were really great out there tonight.  It didn’t hurt much this time.  I think we’re getting the hang of this magic stuff.”

Amelia knew he was trying to be supportive, but to her it felt like he was flinging the words at her, reminding her of how little control she had over her abilities.  She wanted to blame it on him.  If he would just keep his anger in check, her magic would never get out of hand.  But no matter how much she wanted it to be Mitchell’s fault, she knew it wasn’t.  It was her impulsive actions that let it get out of control and each time, he was the one who paid.  Each time she let it get out of hand, Mitchell got hurt.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she responded curtly.  What she really wanted to do was yell, scream, and throw a tantrum.  Except she knew that wouldn’t help; it would only make him look at her like a child.  He would blow her off.  She would get mad.  And then…  No, she needed to stay calm.  They both needed to keep their cool, because the last thing either of them needed was a replay of earlier.  And when they got mad, letting their emotions swirl together and feed each other through the link, it always got ugly.

Maybe she should never have reopened the bond.  Maybe it would have been better to keep him out.  For just a second, Amelia thought about closing it again.  She still remembered the spell Madame Crystal had shown her, but something stopped her.  Amelia knew it was selfish, but she didn’t want to have that distance between them again, and she knew better than he did that shutting him out wouldn’t fix anything.  It had only kept him out of her mind, away from her feelings, but she had been able to feel everything.  For her, except for the excruciating distance she had felt, nothing had truly changed.  And she knew that if she wanted to be with him, really be with him, shutting him out was not the way to go.  It would just put up another wall between them, and as far as Amelia was concerned, they already had way too many to deal with.

Mitchell was wordless for a few minutes, and Amelia continued looking through her outfits.  She settled on a pair of knee-length black leggings and a light-blue empire cut tank.  After pulling them on, she emerged from the closet, closing the double doors, and then she snagged a jumbo butterfly clip from her nightstand.  She towel dried her long, chocolate brown locks, flipped her head upside down, gathered the masses of curls, gave them a twist, and clipped them high and loose.

Mitchell still didn't say anything, and Amelia debated on walking out of the room and leaving him there.  Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t do that.  She wanted an explanation, and she wasn’t letting him get off that easily.  She headed for the chair across from him and sat down.  Not knowing where to start and really not wanting to deal with the hunting just yet, she asked as nonchalantly as she could, “So how long has Fiona been back?”

“Just over a week,” he replied so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.  He started fiddling with the newspaper, folding it, unfolding it, over and over.

When Amelia realized he wasn’t going to elaborate, she went on.  “Why didn’t you tell me she was back?”  The question came out a bit too bitterly, and her stomach twisted into a knot. 
There goes staying calm,
she thought, and right on cue, a rush of fury came at her, hard and quick, like a smack in the face.  Mitchell’s aura flickered crimson, matching his eyes.  And to Amelia’s surprise and distress, that anger grounded her.  It made all her worries fade just a bit.  It wasn’t that she didn’t love nice Mitchell.  She did.  She really did.  It was just…weird and she didn’t know how to deal with it.  He stood his ground, or used to at least, and that was the Mitchell she knew how to deal with.  This nice you-get-more-with-honey attitude he had been trying out was…she didn’t know how else to say it, and really, one word summed it up—weird.

The anger got the best of her.  Amelia laughed, a cold, broken kind of sound, and smiled humorlessly.  Mitchell’s glare faltered, and Amelia smiled wide on the inside.  Who would have believed that she, the girl who was scared of her own shadow, would freak out an eight-hundred-year-old vampire?  She felt the hum and the discreet shifting through her brain.  Before she could stop him, an image of Fiona was pushed to the forefront of her mind. 
Fiona!

“You’re kidding me, right?” Amelia said, and flinched, as if his thoughts were a physical slap.  “You didn't tell me because you were worried about Fiona.  Is this what you’ve been hiding from me?  Are you screwing around with her?”

“Millie,” Eric said, emerging from her office and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.  She looked back and saw Fiona smirking in the doorway of the adjoining office, and the blood rushed from Amelia’s face.  She had completely forgotten that Mitchell had told them to wait there and she blushed in embarrassment.  She didn't mean for anyone to hear them, especially not
her
.  “He wouldn’t.  You know that,” Eric insisted, although the look he gave Mitchell, Amelia noticed, was not as sure as he tried to sound.

Amelia gritted her teeth and glared at Mitchell.  She was about to demand to know why Fiona was still in her office when she noticed his blanching face. 
He had forgotten about her
, Amelia realized, and she knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stop the satisfied smile that crept onto her face.

“What’s going on in here?” Luke's voice boomed, and Amelia jumped.  She pulled back from Eric and glanced at the door.  Luke’s inquisitive hazel eyes scanned over her, before he walked in and took up one of the armchairs in her room, stretching his long legs out before him.  Lola followed closely behind and snuggled up on his lap, resting her head on his thick chest.  She looked as cute as ever in a flowery summer dress.

Amelia huffed.  Couldn’t they just have one little argument without the whole house knowing?  “Hi, Luke,” she said, trying to make her voice light and happy.  Then she thought about it and decided to push forward and get to the point.  “We have a problem here.”

“Really?  A problem.  Wow, now that’s a surprise,” Lola said in a snarky tone.  Amelia rolled her eyes, watching Lola do the same.  They hadn’t gotten off to the right start.  It had been a little misunderstanding.  Amelia had still been trying to understand all the crazy feelings she was having for Mitchell, and then Lola showed up, and she was…well, it didn’t matter anymore, but Amelia was sure they would never really get along.

“Lola,” Luke said, exasperated, but he had a wide grin, looking down at her.

Lola batted her eyes at him sweetly and pecked him on the cheek.  “What?  We’ve never had so many problems until she came along.”  Her grin widened further as she fixed her teasing gaze on Amelia.  “She attracts them.”  Amelia couldn’t believe it, but Lola, yes, Lola, was smiling at her.

“What happened this time?”  Luke asked, his grin vanishing.

“Nothing,” Mitchell said before Amelia could respond.  “She’s exaggerating.  There is nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Eric said, almost yelling.  “Dude.  Fiona killed a girl.  I thought there was no hunting, but she said you gave her permission.”

So Eric didn’t know
, Amelia thought.  She glanced over at him, saw his blank expression, and nodded, glad that she wasn’t the only one out of the loop.

Mitchell didn’t miss a beat.  “Of course he didn’t know, Amelia,” he snapped with jealousy.  “He would have told you if he had.”

As usual, when Mitchell raised his voice at her, it only took seconds for the rest of their family to show up, ready to intervene if necessary.  Angelle and Erin rushed in first, Tyler trailing along a few seconds later.

Amelia gave them a quick look and then fixed her focus back to Mitchell.  “Did the hunting ever stop?” she asked.

Mitchell's jaw twitched and crevasses appeared upon his brow.  “I had to make a call, Amelia.”  He shrugged; attempting to brush it off like it was no big deal.  Amelia held her glare and when he realized that she wasn’t accepting his explanation, he put on what Amelia thought of as his
business face
—tough, cold, and in control.  “They were rebelling.  It’s better to have the hunting monitored than to let them just run wild.”

Amelia jumped up and folded her arms across her chest.  “What happened to the whole united front, Mitch?  Wasn’t that what you wanted?  Us working as a team, together?”

“Forget that,” Fiona piped up.  “There are more important things to deal with.”

“And what would that be?” Amelia asked, clearly annoyed.  She shot a look at Fiona and really had to fight the urge to tell her to put some clothes on.  You would think after one-hundred and twenty years on this planet, the girl would have a bit more self-respect and not dress like a hooker.

Fiona snickered.  “Wow.  Guess there is trouble in paradise.  I told you, Millie.  You’re nothing here.  Just an arm decoration.”

“Shut up, Fiona,” Mitchell growled, and she paled, taking a step back.

“Wait a minute,” Lola said.  “What is she doing here?  Mitchell!  You let Fiona back in the house.  What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I told you, Mitch,” Angelle said.  “I told you not to hide things from her.”  Amelia thought Angelle looked guilty as sin sitting on the edge of Mitchell’s cot.  “Amelia may not like the hunting, but she would have understood.”

Amelia dropped back down on the chair hard.  She closed her eyes, willing her temper away, and focused on breathing.  In and out, in and out, slow and steady.  It wasn’t the first time Angelle had kept secrets from her, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.  Whether Amelia liked it or not, she had only been around them for eight months and their loyalty, above all less, belonged to Mitchell.  She would always be second to him, and most of the time that was fine.  But man did it burn.

Once she got her head back in the game, she opened her eyes.  Mitchell had taken a knee in front of her, and when she met his gaze, he reached out, cupping her face gently in his hands.  “I’m sorry, Amelia.  It’s just…we were finally getting along.  Everything was so perfect and then she showed up, and I just…I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Gag me,” Fiona said, complete with sound effects.

“Fiona, you will either stand there in silence or you will leave,” Mabel said sternly.  Amelia didn't notice her come in, but there she was, the mother hen, standing in the doorway watching and listening.

“Who’s going to make me?” Fiona spat back.  “You, Mabel?”

Amelia almost laughed as Mabel’s short round figure straightened, and she puffed out her chest.  Leave it to Mabel to pick a fight with a vampire to protect her family.  She smiled warmly at Mabel and then spoke up before anyone else could.  “No, but I will.”

Fiona gawked at her for a moment, and then she batted her flirty eyes at Mitchell.  “Are you going to let her just threaten me like that, Mitch?”

“Yes,” Mitchell replied simply.  He caressed Amelia’s cheek for another second and then took his seat.

Fiona opened her mouth and then closed it.  Amelia knew it was childish, but the look on Fiona’s face made her want to jump out of her chair and do a victory dance.

“I can’t believe you are such a dumb ass,” Lola said.  “I never thought I would say this, but you better kick his ass for this, Millie.  None of us will blame you.”

“What about the hunting, Mitch?”  Tyler asked, bringing them all back to the reality of the little meeting.  “Did you forget how much work went into setting up the donation bank and having people actually agree to give you guys blood?  A girl died tonight.  How am I supposed to explain this?”

Amelia sighed in frustration.  She could see Mitchell shutting down, clamming up.  She knew how hard it was for him to let them talk to him like this, but he was trying.  He knew they were stronger as a family, and in all honesty, even though he wouldn’t always admit it, she knew he loved them as his family.  She tried to send him feelings of relaxation, thinking about the birds chirping, a warm spring breeze.  He gave her a weak smile and said, “You don’t need to explain it.  I’ve handled it.”