by Nicole Grane
Chapter 8: New Opportunities
Kim and Leah are going to have a field day when they see me, I thought to myself. Kim would take full advantage of any opportunity to point out that she didn’t cause my injuries this time.
Assessing the damage, I peeled away one of the Band-aids from my knee. “Unbelievable!” I removed a few more, squealing mentally as each one came off.
I opened the bathroom door to find Marcus right where I left him. He still looked irritated.
His expression dissolved almost instantaneously as I stepped out. I was wearing a slender black tank dress that hugged every curve of my body. I looked amazing, and I knew it. I used this to my advantage.
“You’re healed!” he exclaimed.
“Well, all but the gash on my thigh.” I tilted my body as I lifted my dress up my leg a little. “It was a bit deeper, but by tomorrow, I think it will be gone too!” I smiled as I looked from my leg to his face.
He was staring at the pink scratch on my thigh.
“It’s amazing isn’t it?” I asked excitedly, rubbing my finger over the new skin. “Maybe I have super healing powers! That’s going to come in handy. This werewolf thing might not be so bad after all,” I joked.
A soft moan came from his throat as he pulled me to him. I hadn’t even seem him move toward me. His hands gently moved up my back, while his mouth claimed mine. His kiss was so passionate, so heady. It took my breath away—literally.
“Phoebe! Phoebe! Phoebe can you hear me?”
I could faintly hear Marcus's strained voice. I was still in his arms.
“Phoebe!” he called again.
A smile came over my face. I slowly opened my eyes to see relief in his. “If kisses could kill,” I mused.
“Not funny,” he growled disapprovingly. “They can!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I smiled sheepishly. “I forget to breathe when you’re kissing me. But,” I sighed, “it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” I pretended to look put out. I stood up straighter now, still keeping my arms around him. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” I asked sweetly as I played with the collar of his shirt. “You can meet my friends . . . we’re having Italian . . .” I drug out each sentence with a sing-song note, trying to make it sound more inviting.
“I don’t think your friends would like to watch me eat,” he joked. “As for me joining them for lunch . . .” he broke off in laughter.
“Marcus!” I was horrified. “You can’t eat my friends! Promise me you won’t eat my friends!” I gripped his shoulders tightly, the thought of it made me instantly sick.
He howled with laughter. “Phoebe, I promise I won’t eat your friends.”
I sighed with relief. Marcus’s diet hadn’t occurred to me. Truth be told, I was avoiding that part of reality.
“What exactly do you eat?” I winced as I asked the obvious out loud.
“It’s more drinking than eating,” he clarified with a smile, still chuckling lightly.
“How often do you . . . drink?” I closed my eyes, cringing as I awaited his answer.
“I can go a week without drinking if I need to,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “But any longer than that, I start to get weak. In my line of work, being weak isn’t an option.”
“Last night, you said you weren’t hungry because you just ate,” I prompted.
He knew what I wanted to know, but he let me squirm a little.
“Marcus!” I asked impatiently. “Did you . . . kill . . .” I whispered the word, “. . . someone last night.” My body suddenly felt flushed. Perhaps ignorance was bliss.
“Phoebe, I am a vampire after all.”
He watched the stunned look on my face then decided to let me off the hook. “Phoebe, I don’t have to hunt people for food.”
“You don’t!” I blurted excitedly.
“No.” His lips curled up into a smile once more. “That was the vampire of old. There are still some who prefer the old ways, but most are able to drink without killing humans now.”
He had my full attention.
“We own most of the blood banks around the world; we don’t need to take it when they give it so willingly.”
“You went to a blood bank last night?”
“No. I keep a small supply with me at all times just in case.”
“So you don’t have to . . . ever?” I was speaking in code now, hoping he would figure out the words I was trying not to say.
He grinned. “I haven’t had to kill a human for many decades now. But if I had to in order to survive . . .” he paused. “If I were to get too close physically and lose control, or be tempted by a gushing wound, for example,” his eyebrows raised. “You were extremely lucky yesterday.” I could tell by the look in his eyes, he was serious. I couldn’t help but shudder.
“I’d better get going. We’re supposed to meet some guy from abroad that is interested in promoting my designs overseas.” I clapped my hands in excitement.
“You’d better not be late then.”
“How do I look?” I spun myself around—my dress twirling around me.
He caught my hand and held me out at a distance, as he looked me over. His lips were curled up into that infectious smile that made my heart skip.
“Hmm . . . you make it nearly impossible for me to resist you.”
I snorted. “Yeah right. You resist just fine.”
I stared at him for a moment, the smile on my face slowly slipping away as I wondered if I’d ever see him again. I wondered if maybe this had all been a dream, and as soon as I stepped outside, he’d disappear.
Marcus’s fingers gently brushed my cheek, causing millions of goose bumps to run down my arms. I shivered. He was real all right.
As if reading my thoughts, Marcus smiled knowingly at me. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll try and pick up Damen’s trail as quickly as possible.”
“Marcus . . .”
“Phoebe, relax. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years,” he said casually, trying to dismiss my fears. “I’ll be back as soon as I can; tonight, maybe tomorrow at the latest. It just depends where he leads me.” He stepped closer. His hand reached around the back of my head and gently rubbed the knot that still smarted. I will destroy him this time,” he added darkly. I couldn’t help but shiver once again.
His eyes lightened a little as he took my arm and escorted me out the door.
It was a beautiful day outside. The sun had chased all the clouds away, not one was in sight.
I reached in my purse for my sunglasses.
Marcus was a step ahead of me. He already had his on.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to hide inside when the sun’s out?” I asked casually as he opened my car door. “Don’t you catch fire or something when the light hits you?”
“Don’t believe all the legends, my love,” his lips were on my neck before I had time to blink; he kissed it softly. “Daylight doesn’t always mean safety,” he grinned as he watched my shaken expression.
“Great!” I smiled flatly, thinking of all the ghouls and monsters that might come running down my street at any moment. “I’ll see you later then?”
“You’ll see me later.” He winked as he shut the car door for me.
I started the engine, waved, and zoomed off. I took one last look in my rear view mirror before I turned the corner—he was already gone.
I arrived at the restaurant with a few minutes to spare. Kim and Leah were already inside waiting for me.
The three of us had been in business together for six years. I designed, Kim helped create the packaging and displays, and Leah took care of all the marketing. We worked well together, a true testament of our friendship.
“Hey Phoebe!” Kim called out when she saw me. I waved and made my way over to our table.
“You look cute,” I complimented. Kim’s wild brown hair was pulled up into a lose ponytail. She wore a bright red sundress that had a bold flower print on it. It hugged
her figure, flattering her subtle curves.
“Is he here yet?” I asked as my eyes searched the restaurant.
“No, but he should be here any minute,” Leah said glancing down at her diamond faced watch. Leah was decked out in the usual high-end designer suit. Today she wore a stylish, gray, pin stripe. It was flared at the waist, giving it an elegant cut that accentuated her narrow hips. “He sounds very charming with that accent on the phone!” she gushed.
“What’s his name again?” I asked.
“D. Balfour,” she showed me a note with a name scrawled on it. The writing was very stylish.
“Balfour? What kind of name is that?” Kim asked.
“Scottish, I think . . . ,” Leah said as she stared at the signature again. “He sounded Scottish on the phone.” I could hear that dreamy tone in her voice. Leah was a sucker for a guy with an accent.
“What’s the D stand for?” I wondered aloud.
“I didn’t ask,” she admitted.
“I think he’s here,” Kim whispered as her eyes flickered from Leah to the door.
We both shared Kim’s reaction. It was like Apollo himself had walked in. A shockingly attractive man, with brilliant blue eyes that would shame the ocean, was staring back at the three of us.
My eyes couldn’t help but take in the scenery. His skin was lightly tanned. His hair: shoulder length, golden brown, and neatly combed. It looked softer and healthier than any woman’s I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help but note the muscled chest through his white button up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up partly, almost to the elbow. As for the khaki pants—they were tailored with him in mind. He was immaculate, down to his Italian leather shoes.
I took in a deep breath—I could smell a pleasant musky fragrance about him. Where were these gorgeous men coming from? Were the gods falling from the skies?
His body moved fluidly as he walked over to us.
“Wow,” Leah muttered under her breath.
“Would you be the lovely ladies I have the pleasure of joining for lunch?” he asked with a bow.
Leah stood up quickly and extended her hand. He took it as he bent over to kiss it softly.
“Mr. Balfour?” Leah’s cheeks were all aglow.
He nodded.
“We spoke on the phone yesterday, I’m Leah Williams, this is Kim Sanders, and our designer—Phoebe Rose.” She now motioned to me.
He kissed Kim’s hand and turned slowly to me. His eyes were piercing. I stared at them, momentarily lost.
“Mr. Balfour,” I found myself blushing.
He paused for a moment as he took my hand. His lips trembled against it. “Interesting fragrance you’re wearing my dear,” he said as his nose wrinkled a little.
“I’m not wearing any perfume,” I admitted awkwardly. Did I stink? I suddenly felt self-conscious.
Kim leaned over and took a subtle whiff. “You do smell good Phoebe.”
Leah shot her a disapproving look.
“I’m sorry if it bothers you. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable sitting across the table?” I suggested as I motioned to an empty chair between Kim and Leah.
“I think I can endure,” he smiled, leaning in closer. “You’re really quite alluring, especially the color on your cheeks.”
I blushed a rare shade of scarlet to be sure.
I was glad the waiter came over to take our order; it diverted everyone’s attention.
“We really do appreciate you taking the time to meet with us Mr. Balfour,” Leah began.
“Not at all Miss Williams, the pleasure is all mine.”
We got acquainted over lunch. Kim told all about our recent trip to England—leaving nothing out.
“You should have seen her,” Kim said as she shoved in another bite.
He glanced casually my way. “How is your arm now?” he asked. His eyes, not connecting completely with mine.
“It’s fine—” I blurted out quickly, “It really wasn’t such a big deal after all.”
“Not a big deal!” Kim continued. “You should have seen the blood.”
I shot Kim a quick look of death—which she ignored. She was too captivated by our guest.
“Did you get a look at the man?” Mr. Balfour asked.
“Oh it wasn’t a man,” Kim offered. “It was some kind of dog.”
“A dog?” his attention seemed piqued.
“Kim, I’m sure Mr. Balfour doesn’t want to hear about what a bad time we had in his country,” Leah scolded while still maintaining a pleasant smile.
Kim blushed as she took another bite.
“Well, it’s not really my country,” he interjected. “I just base a great deal of business out of London. Perhaps some time you’d all like to accompany me?” Although he extended the invitation to all of us, his eyes were clearly on me.
“Would anyone like any dessert?” The waiter appeared suddenly. The question was for everyone, but his eyes were on me. A large grin spread across his face. He was almost leering at me.
“No thank you,” I spoke up. I wanted to get out of there quick. Something felt very wrong; and creepy.
Mr. Balfour cleared his throat, snapping the waiter out of his fixated stare.
“None for us either,” Leah answered as she shook her head no to Kim.
Kim frowned and placed her napkin on the table. “No. Nothing for me. Thank you.”
“Just the check then,” Mr. Balfour instructed.
“So, when would you like to see one of our displays?” Leah was taking charge of the conversation again—thank goodness.
“Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?” he suggested.
She nodded her head. “That would be fine.”
“If there won’t be anything else,” the waiter began. His eyes were back on me.
Mr. Balfour had his wallet out before the waiter handed him the check. He placed some cash in the booklet. “That should take care of it, my good man.”
“Oh, please, let us treat you,” Leah said as she extended her hand to the waiter, reaching for the ticked book.
“Absolutely not. The pleasure has been all mine,” Mr. Balfour said as he rose from the table.
I stood along with him. “I have to be going as well. Thank you again, Mr. Balfour.” I extended my hand.
He took it and brought it to his lips once more. I could hear his heart beating rapidly now, his blue eyes looking right through mine.
I shifted uneasily. I couldn’t help but think I was having a moment of déjà vu. I couldn’t figure out why I was so uncomfortable around him. I felt like he knew things about me that I didn’t.
“Until tomorrow . . . perhaps we could discuss that trip abroad.” He moved in closer, his hand still holding mine. “I can assure you: your travels will be safer with me.” There was something sinister about the way he said that. “Ladies . . .” he smiled brightly as he tipped his head and walked away.
“Now, that’s a man!” Kim nearly shouted when he was out of earshot.
“Kim, I’ve never been so embarrassed,” Leah thundered. “Why did you have to tell him about Phoebe getting attacked? She doesn’t want to talk about that, and do you really think he wants to hear that she was bit by some rabid dog, or worse—some psycho while visiting over seas?”
“I’ve got to go,” I said abruptly, grabbing my purse.
“Phoebe I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
I looked into Kim’s big brown eyes. She was always so kind, I could never really be mad at her. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” I smiled at the both of them now. “I really have to go, I’ll call you both later, ok?”
I didn’t give them time to answer. I rushed out the door. Something was wrong—I could feel it.
I drove home, constantly looking over my shoulder. I felt like I was being followed; although, I didn’t see any actual evidence of it. I couldn’t figure out where I’d heard that name before?
“Balfour . . . Balfour . . .” I repeated it ov
er and over in my head.
Tap, tap, tap.
I jumped in my seat. I stared out my car window with a confused look on my face. I’d driven home and was parked in my driveway without even remembering getting there. I turned my car off and opened the door.
“May I?” Mr. Balfour extended his hand to help me out.
I hesitated for a moment. Not wanting to be rude, I took his hand.
“I must confess: I followed you,” he admitted with a forged look of guilt on his face. “I hope you don’t mind?”
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to say.
“You forgot this.” He handed me my wrap.
“Oh! Thank you. I didn’t realize I’d left it.”
“Perhaps in your haste to leave?” he suggested with a smile.
I suddenly felt self-conscious again, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
“Miss. Williams suggested that since I was returning your wrap to you, I might take a moment to look at your latest collection.”
“I wish she’d called me. I could have saved you the time. I don’t have anything to show at the moment. I gave Kim all my completed pieces last week for packaging. I can give you some snap shots, I suppose. I keep them for reference,” I explained. “Or if you’d prefer, I can make up a few pieces; I’ll just need a few days.”
“The photos will be fine,” he assured.
“I’ll just be a minute.” I ran inside to my desk, pulled out an envelope with the latest photos, and turned back toward the door.
“Huh!” I jumped. I brought my hand to my heart, trying to steady it.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” his voice was low.
“No, I just didn’t expect you to be behind me,” I laughed nervously. “Here you are.” I handed him the envelope.
His thumb caressed the top of my hand as he took it slowly. The touch, seeming oddly familiar.
“I make you uncomfortable, don’t I?” he said knowingly, the corners of his mouth curled up a little.
“It’s just the way you’re looking at me,” I confessed, trying to avoid his stare.
“I’m sorry. I don’t wish to make you feel uncomfortable . . . it’s just that you remind me of someone, someone I knew a very long time ago . . . someone very dear to me.”
I nodded my head in understanding.
“Well, I’ll leave you to the rest of your day,” he leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek, his lips lingering longer than necessary. “Until tomorrow,” he bowed his head and slipped out the door.
I stood there for a while with my hand on my cheek. I could still feel his kiss. His scent lingered heavily in the air . . .
“Where have I heard that name before?” I thought aloud.
I looked over to see Marcus standing in my doorway—I hadn’t even heard him come in.
“You’re back!” I rushed over throwing my arms around him.
He pulled back abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” I found myself stepping away from him. My joyous mood—gone!
His eyes darted around the room.
“What is it?” My voice cracked. A feeling of dread crept over me.
“I can smell him; he was in the house,” Marcus growled. His eyes vigilantly searched his surroundings.
“What?”
I inhaled deeply. I could smell the ocean, I could smell the sweet smell of Marcus, and . . . my eyes widened. “I had a visitor.”
“You let a werewolf in your house?” Marcus rounded on me.
“A werewolf! No, it was that man I met for lunch, the one who wants to promote my jewelry line.”
Marcus moved in closer. “I can smell him on you.” I could actually see his anger rising as he looked me over.
“He wasn’t a werewolf.” I protested.
“I know his scent,” he snapped. “I’ve been tracking it ever since I left you. I was just past the Washington boarder when I realized he doubled back here.”
I looked at Marcus in disbelief. “Washington? How did you get there and back so quickly?”
“I’m fast.”
I didn’t have a chance to marvel. “Marcus, I promise you . . . there was no one else here. I’d have seen a werewolf in my living room, I’m not blind!”
“Phoebe, he wouldn’t necessarily be a wolf now. There’s no full moon.” Marcus turned his head slightly, looking at me through the corner of his black eyes.
“What do you mean he wouldn’t be a werewolf?”
“I mean that he would look like a normal human.”
My mind couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.
“You’re safe.” He sighed contently, looking momentarily relieved that I was all right. His black eyes sparkled like ebony as they looked into mine. I could feel my pulse begin to race as his cool fingertips ran along my jaw line and down the side of my neck. I closed my eyes as he pulled my face toward his.
I waited for the moment his soft lips would touch mine. The moment he held my body close to his as he embraced me tightly . . . this would not be that moment.
I opened my eyes to see his face dangerously close to mine. He was frozen. His eyes stared past me. They were black with fury, his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the tension running through the fingers that still held my face.
“Marcus?” I breathed. “You’re scaring me.”
His eyes flickered sharply to mine. I instinctively tried to back away—he held me tight.
“That beast was close enough to kiss you, and you didn’t tell me!” His voice echoed with rage.
“What are you talking about?” I asked desperately, trying to pull away.
“He kissed you!” he hissed through gritted teeth. He held my arms tightly—I wasn’t going anywhere.
“It was just a polite kiss on the cheek!” I said defensively as I tried to pry his fingers away.
His eyes narrowed before his fingers released their hold on me. “Did he hurt you?”
“What?”
“Did he hurt you?” he asked again, more impatiently this time.
“No! No more then you just did,” I snapped, rubbing the circulation back into my arms. “At least Mr. Balfour didn’t man handle me.”
“Balfour?” His expression became lethal.
“Yes. The man that was here—he wants to promote my jewelry line overseas,” I said crisply, annoyed that I had to keep repeating myself.
Marcus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A look of frustration overtook him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he began. “It’s just that when I smelled his scent on your skin,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Phoebe, he could have easily killed you.”
“I smell?” I couldn’t help but feel insulted. It was the second time this afternoon someone had commented.
“Phoebe,” he paused for a moment; he looked as if he was trying to collect himself. “I know that name . . . Balfour. Damen Balfour.”
“Damen? No. That can’t be.” I shook my head. Yet my mind drifted back to Mr. Balfour’s deep and intense eyes—how they looked at me so longingly, so knowingly. I couldn’t understand why I felt uncomfortable around him, why I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Even his smell seemed so familiar . . .
A flash from my dream came at me. His eyes, staring down at me . . . his yellow eyes . . .“D. Balfour . . .” I repeated his name under my breath, still in a trance like state. Then fear took hold of me. I knew he spoke the truth.
“He won’t touch you again Phoebe, I swear it!”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I thought he wanted to kill me? Why would he kiss me? It doesn’t make any sense?” I felt myself holding my cheek again.
By the look on Marcus's face, I knew he had the answers to my questions. He sighed, then nodded before retreating to the couch to sit. He reluctantly met my stare. “This was so long ago, and I’m not sure me telling you now will help?” He looked worried, as if something bad were going to happen
.
I walked over and sat down beside him. I wasn’t afraid of Marcus. I didn’t hesitate for a moment to put my arms around him and hold him close to me.
His arms wrapped around me and my heart reacted as it always did when he was so close—erratic. I looked up into his glorious face and took advantage of his unprotected lips. I kissed him feverishly. I wanted him to know that he didn’t have to worry, that I loved him, and nothing would change that. Not some pushy werewolf; and especially not something that happened five hundred years ago.
“Careful . . .” he whispered across my lips.
I pulled my head back to examine him closer. “Why? You don’t have fangs.”
“Not always,” Marcus grinned.
At that, my mouth dropped open.
“You would only have to rub against them a certain way . . .” he didn’t need to finish; the look of shock on my face told him I understood.
Marcus took my hands and brought them to his chest, holding them there. His eyes looked tenderly into mine. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. From the moment I saw you so very long ago . . . I’ve never been able to let go of you.”
“I know,” I assured. And I did.
“All right . . .” he conceded.