Marked

by A.N. Meade

could feel it. This trip was going to be amazing.

  Marc’s attention fell on one thing in particular that she hadn’t packed yet. “I like this one.” He smiled an almost devious smile as he held up a red lace camisole.

  She snatched it back from him, and felt the heat on her face as she blushed in embarrassment. “That goes under the sweaters.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.” Marc feigned a look of deep disappointment.

  Aimee had rarely felt beautiful. Comments like that almost always set off feelings of shame and guilt instead of joyfulness and satisfaction. Things were different with Marc. She knew how he felt. He hadn’t tried to hide it. He loved her, and it was a different kind of love than she had ever experienced. It was a selfless kind of love. He did not require anything of her in return. How far removed this was, she thought form what she had known before. She stuffed the camisole in the suitcase and zipped it up. After she finished zipping the suitcase Marc took out the passports and laid them up on top. She reached for them slowly and looked. There it was, in print, Aimee Trudeau.

  “Trudeau?” She wondered what had made him choose this surname.

  “Yes.”

  She reached for the other passport and held it up beside her own. Marc Trudeau, born in Paris, France.

  Marc finally began to explain. “I guess I should have proposed to you before the marriage.” He laughed, taking back his passport and sliding it into his pocket before he continued. “It’s less suspicious if we travel together as man and wife.”

  Aimee couldn’t help but smile. It did make sense. The idea of being married to him didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. Marc was sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, running his hands through her hair. It was a warm medium brown with blond highlights. She took out a box of dye from one of her shopping bags she had sat on the nightstand. She held it up beside her face to get Marc’s opinion. “I was thinking that a change in color might be good for our trip to France. Do you think it will look good on me? Natasha helped me pick it out.”

  “Blonde?” Marc seemed genuinely surprised by her choice.

  “Yeah, why not?” Now she was a little worried. She wondered if he was surprised in a good way, or in a you are going to look terrible kind of way. He didn’t leave her wondering for long.

  “My love,” He said, pulling her close to him. He brought his face close beside her ear and whispered, “You’ll be the most ravishing blonde I have ever seen.”

  She had never really liked people being close to her before. It had always felt like an invasion. It was different with Marc. The warmth of his whisper was comforting. He made her feel protected and loved. She liked the feel of his arms around her. He liked his presence beside her. There was a tension between them as he pulled away, like a magnetic force was trying to press them back together again. He lingered for a moment with his lips just beside hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

  Just then, Natasha opened the door. She was looking down trying to navigate the door knob and the stack of towels and combs she was carrying. “Are you ready to do your hair now?” She didn’t even notice until she was halfway in the room that she had interrupted something between them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She started back toward the door.

  Marc stood up and held his had up to her. “No, don’t go. It’s alright. I was just on my way downstairs.” He looked back at Aimee who was clearly embarrassed at Natasha walking in. “Come and join us when you’re finished?”

  Aimee nodded in agreement and kept her gaze downward. She didn’t really want to look at either of them. She felt far too vulnerable for that. She and Natasha took their time talking and coloring Aimee’s hair upstairs. Enric and Marc weren’t sure they were coming back downstairs any time that night at all when the parlor doors finally opened.

  When Aimee entered the room, the resemblance that she bore to herself in her life together with Marc was striking. The resemblance was so striking that Marc had great difficulty finding words at all. He and Enric both stood. Marc walked over to Aimee and took her hands in his own. He was captivated, and had no idea how to express himself in her presence. Slowly he brought her right hand to his lips. The kiss was gentle and soft, and seemed to echo through her whole body. “You look beautiful. I had not realized until now how much you resembled your old self in this incarnation.” He took a moment to just admire her.

  She smiled. She wasn’t exactly sure where it came from, but she had a desire to please him. She was so happy to see that look in his eyes. It was strange for her to feel so connected to someone else.

  Marc broke her concentration. “Dinner should be ready. Shall we go into the dining hall?”

  “Yes,” said looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m starving.” By that time Aimee had become well aware of the changes she was experiencing physically. She was more aware of sounds, movement, scents, and tastes. Emotionally she was beginning to let go of her old life and embrace the essence of who her spirit was driving her to be. Her mannerisms were different. Marc had also become increasingly aware of the change in her, even down to the way she moved. She walked more lightly, almost cat like. More and more she was becoming like the Aimee he remembered. She brought back to remembrance things that had long been forgotten in the passage of time.

  He noticed that over their conversation of dinner, when she was deep in thought, she would run her fingertips lightly through her hair, slowly twirling the ends. She was beginning to look at him differently. Her gaze was softer. She had begun to let down her guard. He knew that it would take time to win back her heart and her trust. It was wondrous though, to see her starting to let him in.

  Enric was still dealing with all his anxieties about Aimee leaving. He was working through the storm of emotions that he had been emerged in over the past week. “Are you ready for the flight Aimee?”

  Aimee turned her attention to him. “I hope so, I’ve never really flown before. Is there anything that I should worry about, Enric?”

  “Not really. It’s essentially like riding in a car, except its faster, and you get a gourmet meal. The view is also nice. It’s one of a kind.” Enric did not know that many people who had never traveled. He could barely remember the first time that he flew. He and Natasha had traveled back and forth from country to country countless times for business and for pleasure.

  “I’m looking forward to the view, it sounds lovely. I’m a little scared, but mostly I’m excited.” Aimee was looking forward to the experience of flying. She was nervous about safety, and about how she would feel, but more than that she was excited.

  Natasha had been listening to the conversation in between her daintily cut bites. “I don’t really understand why anyone is afraid of flying.”

  Enric answered her quickly, and chided her gently. “They are not afraid of flying my dear, they are afraid of falling to the ground.”

  Suddenly Aimee became aware of how graceful Natasha was. She had a very sexy Russian accent. She also had a way of manipulating her lips as she spoke in English that looked faintly like she was blowing a kiss. Even the way she blinked was seductive, slow, and deliberate. It was obvious that she had been accustomed to high society. She ate so delicately, flaking off a tiny piece of salmon at a time, or cutting her green beans into thirds before she took a bite. She never even smudged her lipstick. It was a rich wine color, and drew even more attention to her full lips. Aimee thought to herself, “I want to be that confident someday.”

  Natasha laughed softly as she tried to think of a retort, but could find none. “Ah, yes, I suppose they are.” Immediately she was concentrating again on her food and only half listening to the conversation.

  Enric looked over at Aimee and leaned his head in a bit. “You have nothing to worry about. Plane crashes are quite unusual. I’m sure you’ll have a beautiful flight.”

  “Thank you, Enric. It is nice to have your assurance.” Aimee knew how much Enric relished moments like these.

  Enric n
odded in appreciation. You could tell that he enjoyed the role of protector. Natasha smiled in amusement. He loved good conversation, and being able to lead them both in some wit and banter was his ideal way to enjoy a meal with friends.

  Aimee glanced over at Marc. “You’ve been so quiet this evening. What is on your mind?” Marc had been unusually quiet through the entire conversation so far. It made Aimee uneasy that he had something on his mind that was so distracting.

  “I’m just thinking about tomorrow. I’m excited for us to see France together.” He looked up and gave her his full attention.

  All of his mannerisms and speech were perfectly correct, but Aimee could tell that there was more that he was not saying. There was a dark undertow forming, just beneath his superficial answer. She would let it go, for now. She trusted him enough to know that if something needed to be said, he would say it.

 

  Homecoming

  After dinner Aimee followed Enric upstairs for their last feeding before her trip to Paris. She wasn’t as nervous this time when she entered the room and she shut the door behind her. She was more familiar with him now. With that familiarity came a feeling of comfort toward him. She had also become much more comfortable and in control of herself. She lit the candles in the gilded wall sconces beside the bed, and then sat down by Enric.

  “I will miss you while you’re gone.” Enric tried his best to convey the sense of separation he was feeling, and how it affected him. He wanted very much to stay near her. They had just begun their friendship with one another and he enjoyed spending time with her. They were learning about one another, and he genuinely enjoyed her company.

  “You don’t even know me that well.” She could tell by the tone in his voice that he was sincere. Despite believing his sincerity, it was hard to see how someone could really want to be near her. She had grown up so afraid, and even as an adult had learned to be so quiet and still. Her goal had always been to fall into the background, to not be noticed, so that she did not incite the rage of the men around her. Here, with them, everything was different.

  “I think that I do.” Enric pulled her against him, and she rested her head on his chest. “There’s something real about you. It’s something down to earth, something familiar. I can tell that you’ve lived a hard life. You appreciate things for what they are. You appreciate people for who they are. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, a friend, with that kind of perspective. I’ll miss it.”

  “You feel like you understand me, but there’s so much I don’t know about you.” Enric had been watching her much more closely than she realized. He knew her well enough to see her pain. He also knew how to make her feel good about herself. She had not made as much of an effort in understanding him. Now, she threw her full attention into it.

  “What is it that you want to know?” Enric was being coy. She had, though, asked a very open ended question. It was never generally a good idea to tell too much too fast. It never comes across appropriately that way. After all, who can tell their life story in a few sentences? There was another meaning to Enric’s desire for her to be more specific. He wanted to know what it was about him that interested Aimee. He wanted to tell her the parts of his story that piqued her curiosity and satisfied her desire to feel closer to him.

  “I want to know everything that you are willing to tell me.” Aimee was bound to know his full story. She had neglected to ask the questions for far too long. She was asking now.

  “I have nothing to hide from you, my darling.” Enric looked very dapper when he smiled. He had an almost regal air about him. Despite having worked hard over the years to develop his social skills and demeanor, it was true that she could sense something within him that was born of much more humble means. There was a quiet gentleness about him, and a depth to his eyes that told of an understanding gained only from a life of overcoming hardships.

  She tilted her head up slightly, letting her gaze meet his. She was ready to listen. She wanted to know who he was. There was more to him than the regal stranger who became the hero whose friendship gave her a foundation for a new life. He had given her so much of himself. He supported her life. He listened to her and comforted her. She needed more than ever to understand who he was, and how he could offer her so much so selflessly.

  Enric thought quietly to himself for a few moments. It would be hard to tell a complete tale that was short enough to hold the attention of someone else and tell the most important elements that stood out in his mind. It would be hard, but he would try. “I grew up in a small fishing village in Sorrento in southern Italy. My parents married young, so they had very little money. My father was a fisherman, and he was my mother’s world. Ancestry and tradition were always very important to us. I remember the food that she used to make most of all. She had this crespelle con frutta di mare that was fantastic. I loved it. She had learned the recipe from her mother, who had learned from her mother, who had learned from hers, all the way back as far as anyone could remember. It was the same with my father and his fishing. What I remember even more than that about them is how much they loved each other. They stayed in love their whole lives. No matter what the circumstances were, they always treated each other so tenderly. Even though they were poor, they were happy. So, I grew up without fortune, but with strong character and great ambition. I built my empire. It took years, but I did it. I think they would be proud if they could see.” Enric was deep in thought. His smile was innocent and relaxed. He too had known what it was like to grow up in poverty, but he had held on to the memory of his parents with a wonderful fondness that overshadowed their difficulties.

  Aimee’s eyes had begun to fill with tears. Enric had painted such a beautiful picture of his parents. “What happened to them?”

  It had been a long time since Enric had shared any details of his upbringing with someone else. The last time had probably been with Natasha. Marc had never really pressed him for such details. It was comforting to know that Aimee cared about him and was trying so hard to understand him. He continued with his story. “They lived very hard, and they enjoyed their lives. Then, they grew old. I was the youngest of eight children. They gave everything that they had to make us a strong family. We were strong, and very blessed to have had them with us. Then, they grew old and God saw fit to let them pass on.”

  The tears in Aimee’s eyes spilled over her lower lid and ran down her cheek. The mention of God was more than she could bear. She had dealt with so many issues and worked through so much of her emotional mess, but reconciling her existence with the ideals that she had grown up with was something she had not yet accomplished. “And what has God to do with this?” She trusted Enric, and knew he would understand her silence, and the meaning of her question.

  “Mio Tesoro, la mia bellezza. We are all God’s creation and if you cannot feel him with you on this journey, it is you who has left him along the road.” Enric tried his best to be comforting, and to be truthful to his beliefs. It pained him to see her so hurt.

  This was one thing that Aimee would have to work through on her own. It was true that over the course of her life she had grown numb to many things. Meeting abusive relationship after abusive relationship, she had learned to cut herself off to her emotions. He saw into her, like Marc saw into her. They saw past the face that she put up to show the world. She wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but she had stopped believing in love. She wasn’t sure what to say or do. She wanted to hit him because he made her feel so small. She felt ashamed and angry. She also just wanted to cry in his arms and let him hold her.

  “It’s alright.” He ran his fingers across her cheek, wiping away her tears. His voice brought her back to him. “Let’s not talk anymore of this now. You have a great adventure to prepare for.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready.” Aimee was facing her first flight with Marc, who she was just starting to get to know again. She was anxious about traveling, and about their relationship, among a thousand other worries that sp
un around in her mind.

  “Why?” Enric couldn’t see how anything would overshadow Aimee’s excitement. There were so many wonderful things on the horizon for her.

  “It will just be us, Marc and I. We’ll be alone in this place that I’ve been but cannot full remember. I won’t feel as safe without you. What if the hunger grows? What if I cannot control it?” Aimee’s worries spilled out one right after another. Her hunger was probably the greatest of these.

  “You’ll be fine. Marc will protect you. You just have to trust him.” Enric was sure that Marc knew what to do to help Aimee through. He had centuries of knowledge and knew what seemed like thousands of people. He had every confidence in Marc’s ability to care for Aimee, and that did not even account for the love that he knew Marc had for her. He would do whatever he needed to keep her safe.

  “I know you’re right. It will just be so strange to be traveling and then to be away from you so soon.”

  “Will you write to me while you’re away?”

  Aimee sat up and squared her shoulders, looking Enric in the eyes. “Of course I will.” The conversation had put her worries at ease. She tugged gently at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up past the wound in his side.

  “You’re more at ease this time.” Enric took notice of how calm Aimee was in contrast to their first feeding. She was relaxed and almost eager.

  “Have you been very uncomfortable?” She ran her finger tips lightly across the bite marks.

  “No, the mark doesn’t really hurt. It gets sore right after, but that fades.” He watched her eyes. They had the prettiest purple hue since her change. It was a soft shade of lavender that seemed to glow from within when she was hungry.

  “Good. Are you ready?” Aimee was glad to know that he hadn’t been uncomfortable after, but her own need was quickly becoming the loudest voice in her head.

  “Are you?” Enric knew what he was getting into. In his mind he was bound to her as confidant and friend for as long as she wanted him to be. He would have endured pain if it had been necessary. He just smiled at her.

  “Yes.” Aimee glanced up into his eyes a moment this time before she bit down. Her eyes were wild. The pupils were small and more narrow. The blue of her irises had changed, glazed over with an otherworldly glow. Her lips were flushed red, and just parting them were the tips of her protruding fangs. She was beautiful, and terrifying. Their relationship was painful, exciting, and more than he had hoped for. It confused him, but it fulfilled him too.

  He didn’t flinch this time. They were