by Nicole Grane
Chapter 22: A Misunderstanding
I managed to shower and get changed into my sweats and a t-shirt without killing, or otherwise harming myself. With my luck as of late, this was no easy task. Marcus seemed to bring out my completely helpless and disastrous side—something he didn’t seem to mind at all. I, however, was having a hard time with being such a menace.
Someone had been in my bedroom and lit a fire in the fireplace. The room was toasty by the time I’d gotten out of the bathroom. A table had been set for two with candles in the center. A new vase filled with freshly cut roses had been placed on a table by the bed.
I looked down at what I was wearing and back to the table that was dressed better than I was. A wave of panic hit me all of a sudden. This was supposed to be a romantic dinner, and I was dressed like I was going to a ball game.
I rushed back to my closet and rummaged quickly to find something more appropriate. I’d just grabbed a sleek red dress when I heard a knock at the door.
“Just a minute!” I called out. I tried to take my sweat pants off so fast that my foot got caught in the leg—I toppled over into the closet with a loud thud.
The door flung open.
“Are you alright?” Marcus asked as he ran over to the closet, his eyes wide with panic.
I stared up at him. He was dressed in a tuxedo of all things.
“You might have mentioned it was a black tie affair!”
Marcus looked down at me—my leg was still caught in my pants. He chuckled as he reached out for me. “Let me help you.”
“No thank you.” I grouched. “I can manage just fine.”
“Darling, you don’t have to change. Considering the circumstances, I think you’re dressed quite appropriately—you nearly died after all.” Marcus extended his hand once more—and still clearly amused by what he saw, he couldn’t stop grinning.
“I can’t eat dinner in sweats when you’re in a tuxedo!” I said incredulously. My god, was he that clueless? I pulled my legs into the armoire and shut the door, grumbling under my breath.
After several minutes of fancy maneuvering and loud clunking, I pushed open the closet door, dressed for the occasion. My hair on the other hand was a bit tussled.
Marcus was waiting patiently. He stared down at me for a moment, biting his lip. It was obvious he was trying hard not to laugh—I was still sitting on the closet floor.
“May I help you now?” His smile reached his eyes . . . and it took my breath away how handsome he was. I reached out accepting his help.
“That was well worth waiting for . . . you’re stunning.” All humor aside, Marcus stared at me like I was the reason for his next breath.
“Thank you.” I blushed.
“Shall we sit down?” he motioned to the little table. He walked me slowly over to it and sat me in a chair.
“Marcus, everything is beautiful. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
He gave me a sheepish look. “I had a little help,” he admitted.
“Still, it wasn’t necessary.”
“You’re my wife. Well, nearly. I will always do such things for you. I only want your happiness.” Marcus took my hand and kissed the top of it softly. Then he began turning it this way and that, as if examining it.
“Is anything wrong?” I asked, confused by his behavior.
“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t scratch you again,” he said, looking it over once more.
“Well, you better check the rest of my body because there may be a few areas of concern,” I smiled coyly.
Marcus's mouth popped open. He looked as though he was going to be sick.
“It was a joke! You better check my body . . .”
He stared blankly at me.
I rolled my eyes. How could he not think that was funny? “Sorry,” I muttered. Clearly he didn’t get my sense of humor.
He shook his head disapprovingly at me. “That was not funny.” The corners of his mouth protested, curling on their own accord.
I smiled back at him.
Marcus took in a deep breath, and taking my hand in his, he got down on one knee. He placed something cold in the palm of my hand and closed my fingers around it before I could see what it was.
I stared at my closed hand for a moment before I looked up into his hopeful eyes. The butterflies in my stomach were flapping wildly with anticipation. I opened my fingers slowly to find a breathtaking square shaped diamond surrounded by little rubies. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I was frozen.
“I thought we should make it official. I made a quick trip to London while you were in the shower to have it sized.”
My mouth gaped open as I marveled at the ring before me. It had to have cost a small fortune.
“Do you like it?” he asked. I still hadn’t said anything.
“It’s beautiful. But it’s too much,” I protested.
“I haven’t even begun to spoil you.” He took the ring and slipped it onto my finger. It was a perfect fit. Set in white gold, it sparkled like a thousand prisms when the light hit it. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Phoebe Rose, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, and allowing me to love you until the end of time?”
I stared into his soft brown eyes. I couldn’t help but smile. He adored me so . . . it was an easy promise to make. “Until the end of time,” I repeated.
His mouth took mine, heating my blood with the intensity of his kiss. I could feel him smiling. He leaned back, and my heart cried out at the sudden distance between us. He was beaming! He held my hand in his—admiring the exquisitely beautiful ring he’d just placed on my finger for life.
I was still in awe. I stared down at my hand in his, watching the light reflect off the diamond; I took in its size for the first time. I suddenly felt anxious.
“Marcus. How big is this? I don’t mean to be rude, but—” I had to ask, it looked massive on my hand.
“The diamond itself is eight and a half carats. With the rubies . . .”
“Never mind.” I put my hand up stopping him. That was more than enough information to let me know that I would need my own security detail on any outings I may take.
“It was my grandmothers,” he continued with a smile. “Then my mothers.”
“Marcus, it’s beautiful, but I’d be afraid to wear this every day. I’d be mugged in a minute just walking down the street. Werewolves would be the least of my worries,” I half-laughed.
“No one would dare touch you!” The very idea made Marcus's eyes turn black.
I placed my hand on his cheek, calming him. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.” I leaned in and kissed him.
He lifted me off the chair into his arms and whirled me around. “I feel like flying!”
“What? No!” I choked on the idea.
“You’re feeling better now, right?” He studied me, searching for any lingering signs of illness.
Unfortunately, I was feeling better. I’d have given anything for a hot flash so I could truthfully tell him I was still sick.
“You are such a scaredy cat,” he laughed. “You know I would never drop you.”
I winced in his arms as I mulled it over. He could see the conflict in my eyes.
“Just a quick one; the moon is lovely tonight, and the air is surprisingly warm. There is a pond I want to show you. It’s absolutely beautiful by moonlight,” he added this as an extra enticement.
I sighed in defeat. “You promise you won’t let go?”
“I won’t loosen my grip for a moment.” He carried me through the French doors that led out onto my balcony, then jumped onto the railing without the slightest bit of hesitation.
I looked over the edge—instant mistake. I buried my face in his chest.
Marcus laughed. “Don’t make me laugh, I might drop you.”
“WHAT?” I shrieked.
He leapt off the edge and rolled like a fighter jet through the air.
> “Never do that again!” I screamed, gripping him tighter, molding my body with his
“Sorry darling.” He continued to laugh. “I was just showing off a bit.”
I couldn’t even look. I was terrified.
“Phoebe, look here . . . look!” he urged.
I peeked beyond the safety of his shirt to see a large pond not too far from the horse stables. It sparkled in the moonlight like a million diamonds. I gasped. “Oh yes, it is beautiful!” I looked around, a little more at ease now. The castle was huge, especially from the sky.
“Marcus, is all this yours?” I asked, pointing to the forest that surrounded the castle.
“Yes. And that as well . . . all the way to the ocean.” He motioned with his chin. “Shall I show you?”
Before I could answer, we were soaring over the treetops, heading for the coastline. The air was a little crisper as he set me gingerly down atop a cliff overlooking the bluff. The moon’s light was brighter here, no cloud cover darkening our view.
Marcus's arms snaked around me from behind. He bent down, nuzzling my neck with a kiss.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered into my ear. “I wanted to show you this place in person because—”
“It’s where you and I first kissed,” I interrupted without thinking. I stiffened. This was the place from my dream . . . it’s where he and the other Phoebe first kissed. I turned my head to meet his stare.
A mixture of emotion hung in his eyes: disbelief, amazement, love, and gratitude. He was thankful I was remembering our life together. So was I.
A cold wind enveloped us. I shivered violently. Marcus took off his jacket and put it on me, warming me instantly. I savored the sweet smell as I put the fabric to my nose. I inhaled deeply and Marcus laughed.
I glanced his way, blushing at having been caught. “You smell good,” I admitted shyly.
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes watching mine. “Your eyes are yellow again tonight.”
“What?” I gasped. My heart nearly came to a stop.
“Your eyes; I’d noticed it before, but tonight, they’re brilliant. Beautiful.”
“What do you mean you noticed it before? Am I turning into—?”
“No, no.” He held my face in his hands, trying to calm me. “The last full moon when I took you flying . . . I noticed it then.”
My mouth popped open. “I have werewolf eyes?” I squeaked.
“Phoebe, I’m sorry I mentioned it. Truly, it’s nothing to worry about.” I studied his face. He’d meant it.
“You think they’re beautiful?” I asked in a small voice.
“Yes.” He grinned.
“But what if someone else notices?” I was panicked again.
“Unless someone has you out in the night, on a full moon . . . which I will never allow,” he assured, “ . . . they’ll never know.”
I nodded, shivering as another gust of wind whipped past.
“I should get you home now. Too much night air probably isn’t good for you.”
We landed lightly on the balcony a few minutes later. I was still snuggling against Marcus when he carried me into my room. He let me down slowly; making sure my legs would hold me before he let go.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Marcus rushed over to let Sarah in. She had a large tray with two covered plates, a small loaf of bread, a dish of butter, and another plate full of raspberry tarts.
“Enjoy!” She winked at me; then lowered her eyes when she saw that Marcus had seen, and rushed from the room.
“What was that about?” Marcus asked, still staring after Sarah.
“Nothing—girl stuff.” I tried to play it off.
“Why would she wink at you like that?” he asked, ignoring my brush off.
“It’s nothing. Really, it’s—” I stopped. Richard didn’t want Marcus to know about him and Sarah. I’d have to word this carefully. But he’d want to know why Sarah would care if Richard had taken an interest in me anyway. There was only way out of this: “Let’s eat!” I sat down and lifted the lid off my plate to reveal steak, baked potato, and fried greens. “I’ll have to remember to thank Charlotte for going to all this trouble . . . may I?” I took up my knife and fork.
Marcus gave me a defeated look, realizing I wasn’t going to explain Sarah’s behavior. “Of course Darling. I’ll just fix the fire a bit.”
I took a bite of the steak. It was amazing. Although, I wasn’t a bit surprised, Charlotte was a spectacular cook.
There were two bottles on the table. They looked like some sort of wine. I opened one up and poured it into a delicate crystal glass. “What a brilliant shade of red,” I thought as I swirled the wine around before I took a whiff of the bouquet. “Curious. I don’t think I can place the scent. It’s not a grape . . . does this have some kind of berry in it?” I put the glass to my lips, tilting the liquid back.
“NO!” Marcus flew at me, knocking the glass from my mouth. My chair crashed backward onto the floor. I landed hard, hitting the back of my head into the wood frame of the footboard. I grabbed my head and held it tightly as I curled into a ball. I could feel the blood on my fingertips.
“What’s the matter with you?” I cried, holding my head protectively.
“Phoebe, I . . .” he stepped toward me. His eyes were wild, frightening. I found myself recoiling from him.
“Stop!” I put my hand out, stopping him as I tried to get up. I staggered sideways, falling back to the floor. I’d hit my head so hard; I was surprised I wasn’t knocked out.
He moved toward me again.
“No! Just stay away from me!” I didn’t understand why he’d attack me like that.
“I couldn’t let you drink that,” Marcus snapped.
“What? Why not?” I got up slower this time, still holding my head while I swayed back and forth, keeping a distance between us.
“Did you get any in your mouth?” he asked frantically.
“What?”
“Did you drink any?” he shouted.
“No! I don’t know. I don’t think so?” I was so confused. “How could you attack me like that?” I studied my bloodied hand then looked back to Marcus.
He looked just as shaken as I felt. “That bottle is filled with blood,” he said through gritted teeth.
“WHAT?” I gagged. I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I threw open the toilet seat and vomited. I was physically ill now. I tried brushing my teeth over and over, just in case there was any blood in my mouth, the thought made me sick all over again.
I stayed in the bathroom for hours before Marcus finally knocked on the door.
“Phoebe, are you alright?”
“No!”
There was a brief moment of silence. “I had Charlotte warm your food up for you. It’s ready when you are.”
Like I can eat now, I thought to myself. I held my head as I pried myself off the floor and opened the door. Marcus was standing there, worried looking.
“Why on earth would you have a bottle of blood on the dinner table?” I asked flatly.
“I thought . . . since we’re going to be married . . . I should get used to drinking around you. That it might help with the urge . . . apparently that was a mistake.” His eyes dropped to the floor in shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Now I felt bad. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I want you to feel comfortable around me.” I frowned. “You should have told me. What would have happened to me if I’d drank that?” I cringed, holding back the impulse to vomit again.
“Being infected as you are . . . werewolves crave blood as well. Not for food, like vampires, though. For them, it’s the victory of the kill. Once they’ve tasted it . . . they’ll do anything to get it again.”
Great. I had been a sip away from bloodlust! “I guess I’ll just have to watch what I drink around here.” I said dryly.
Marcus’s eyes looked sad, hur
t.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away. My head was bleeding . . . I didn’t want you to get too close. You scared me,” I admitted at last. The words harder to say then I thought.
“I’m sorry.” He turned to leave.
“Oh no you don’t!” I hiked up my dress, ran and leaped onto his back. “You don’t give me a ring like this, ask me to marry you, and run out on me.” I held onto him and ruffled the back of his hair playfully. Marcus had scared me. He’d hurt me. But the pain of him leaving me would have hurt worse. The very idea of being separated from him scared me more—and truthfully, he’d only been protecting me.
“You’re . . . not afraid to be alone with me?” His voice was still sad.
“I’m not afraid. I know you were only looking out for me. I’ll never doubt you again. Never!” I craned my head around and kissed his lips. “I love you Marcus Ashworth. I’ll love you until the end of time.”
He smiled and kissed me back.
“Now, how about that dinner?” I teased.
“Anything you wish, my love.”
I grazed his ear gently with my lip, nibbling on it playfully. “Anything?” I whispered.
He shot me a disapproving glance that immediately softened into a smile.
“I’ll just settle for dinner then.” I winked.