A Soulmark Series

by Rebecca Main

  “Does that mean they’re extremely fast and strong during those fledgling years if they’re consuming large amounts of blood?”

  Irina cuts into her roasted chicken thigh delicately. “Indeed, they are. They’re quite the nuisance to kill. Which is done through beheading, of course.”

  I nod my head along decisively as if this can be the only reasonable answer. Of course. “What else?”

  “They’re typically very cold to the touch unless they have a Heart Stone ring. It’s a magical item that warms the wearer's internal body temperature. Silver eyes—well, not at the beginning. As vampires age, the more silver their eyes appear. It’s an easy way to estimate how old a vampire is. Those that are a few hundred years old will have distinctive silver streaks in their irises, whereas a fledgling might only have a ring about the iris. The ancients are completely turned. It’s quite unnerving if you ask me.

  “Let’s see, what else. Ah! They don’t fare well under direct sunlight. The UV rays promote the aging process, and their skin begins to flake off. It’s very grotesque. Several members of the ancient families possess rings known as the Amethysts of the Aztecs. They allow the wearer to walk in the daylight without falling harm under the sun.”

  Fascinating. They really did believe the stories they told. “If lycans are children of the moon and were then cursed by a witch, how were vampires created?”

  “A witch,” Ryatt supplies.

  “No,” Irina corrects condescendingly, fork and knife paused mid-cut. “A necromancer. The last of the necromancers to be precise. Between 1186 and 1207, necromancers were hunted down and exterminated. Necromancers draw on dark magic to resurrect the dead, but also draw power from each other. As their numbers became smaller and smaller, so did the reach of their power. The necromancer who brought about the vampire line was Nicholas Vogart. He used all of his powers to bring back his dead lover, Regulus. Except Regulus had been dead for more than two weeks,” she tells me surreptitiously, a devious smirk on her face. “Well, it is well known that the longer a person is dead, the harder it is to reanimate them. Yet, here comes Nicholas, an unusually powerful necromancer and the last known of his kind, using all the power he possesses to resurrect his dead lover. But—”

  “Wait! How did he die?”

  “Who?”

  “Regulus,” I say with some amount of exasperation. I cannot help but be enraptured by her story. She speaks it as she would some juicy gossip.

  Irina’s cheeks take on a delicate rosy hue. “Dysentery,” she supplies. “Anyway, back to the story. Nicholas is able to reanimate his lover, but according to lore, the use of such a powerful spell weakened Nicholas gravely. He fell to his knees before the reanimated corpse and began to weep tears of blood. Whether they were tears of joy or pain are uncertain, though it is more than likely it was a combination of both. Regulus took to his knees in a mirror image of his creator, feeling an unfamiliar pang resounding in his dead heart. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to wipe away Nicholas’s tears. Then Regulus brought his fingers to his lips and licked away the blood." Irina snaps her fingers dramatically. "Instantly he was changed! No longer was he an animated corpse, but truly brought back to life by his lover’s tears and blood. Consumed by the taste, he fell upon Nicholas like a wild animal and drained him of his blood.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, traces of plain old Quinn coming through. “That is really cool.” How had Ryatt gotten everyone to go along with his supernatural narrative?

  “It is a gripping origin, but you must always remember they’re ruthless creatures. If ever in doubt, think on Regulus, who could not control his thirst. Yes," she continues with a sigh, "they're very proud and very smart creatures, but when one can live forever, it’s not so surprising.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Xander asks, his face adorably scrunched in confusion.

  “I do read, you know,” she huffs, tossing her hair over her shoulders. I roll back my shoulders and slip back into Charlotte Donovan.

  “Thanks for all the information. Besides speed and strength, do they have any other supernatural abilities? Enhanced hearing or seeing? If I’m going to steal from some hundred-year-old vampire, I need to know.”

  “How silver are his eyes?” Ryatt asks.

  “Enough. Though, it doesn’t come off as too unnatural since they’re already such a pale blue.”

  “What’s your plan?” Xander asks.

  “I’ll attend the artist premiere next week at his home and crack his safe. He made it seem like he would keep it close, so I assume it’s there. If I could reach out to some of my contacts I’d be able to confirm.” I swing my gaze to Ryatt who smiles innocently back. “It would also be easier if someone would return my laptop charger and remove the virus from my laptop.”

  “I happen to know a fantastic hacker. Best in the field,” Ryatt confides. Dessert is placed before us, some chocolate treat that I ignore.

  “Best?” I scoff. “Slipping a virus onto someone's computer isn’t exactly hard.”

  Ryatt’s returning grin bites, “Careful darling, you’d do well not to wound my pride. You can use any one of our computers—”

  “No,” I interrupt, “my contacts, my rules. We use my laptop, or we go in blind and hope for the best.” The room practically vibrates with tension.

  “That seems reasonable,” Zoelle whispers to Xander. I shoot her a grateful look.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Fine,” Ryatt gets out, “I’ll remove the virus, and you can work on your laptop, but you’ll be supervised. We don’t want you doing anything that would stir unwanted attention.”

  I stifle my retort and take a drink of wine instead. Setting it down neatly, I fold my hands in my lap before I reply. “Fine.” Point to Ryatt.

  “I’ll also accompany you to the event.”

  “What?” I glare at Ryatt and pass an incredulous look to his brother. “No deal. He’ll give me away.”

  “Surely you need a date for the event. I’ve been known to be quite the arm candy.”

  “Won’t Mr. Vrana know you’re a lycan?”

  “Unlikely,” Irina interjects, finishing off her chocolate tart. “Unless we are caught displaying our abilities, then we cannot be identified by scent. Not by a vampire anyway.”

  “I work alone,” I say curtly, “in case I have to partake in more…illicit activities to gain what I need.”

  Ryatt growls from across the table, his eyes flashing that strange gold. “I will accompany you,” he tells me, voice filled with unrestrained possessiveness. “End of discussion.”

  Plain old Quinn rears her head, not liking one bit the way he takes charge with another decision that should be left to me. “It’s just business, Ryatt. No need to take it so personally,” I respond overly sweetly.

  “I’d say our night in Mexico was personal,” he retorts, leaning forward. “Based on your reactions during our…business…I’d say you found our transaction more than personal as well.”

  “Enough!” Xander shouts, his voice anchored in authority. My mouth shuts with a snap. As does Ryatt’s. “Quinn, you’ll work with your contacts to discern the location of the crystal and make a plan of action. Ryatt will monitor your work and accompany you to the artist premiere. That’s final.” Point Xander.

  I cannot contain the angry scowl that works its way onto my features. Having a partner was unnecessary. He would only slow me down. Moreover, it was an insult. I could accomplish the mission by myself, easily.

  I take a deep, calming breath, envisioning in my mind's eye causing some serious damage to Ryatt's face with my fist. My muscles loosen at the thought, a satisfied smile coming across my face.

  “Thinking of something pleasant, are we?” he asks rakishly.

  “Only of digging your grave,” I respond sweetly. “Any place you want to be buried?”

  Ryatt smirks back at me. “Inside you.”

  “Oh honestly, Ryatt!” Irina shrieks.

  “Were we this
bad at the start?” Zoelle asks Xander quietly. “I thought the soulmark was supposed to make you like the other person?”

  “Not exactly. It can certainly warm you to a person, but it doesn't force you to like them. It's just that the soulmark is your other half—why wouldn't you fall for them?” he replies back softly.

  “This does not seem like a warm reception,” she whispers back. Zoelle catches my questioning gaze and colors.

  “What’s a soulmark?” The room comes to a standstill, each face carrying varying amounts of worry. Oh no.

  “Thanks,” Ryatt sighs, then downs the rest of his wine.

  Chapter 7

  Quinn

  Belle Creations is much nicer inside than the displays in the window lead one to believe on the outside. It has a cool modern edge, and their products are placed in precise lines with an obvious flow of formality. Since the artist premiere is a black tie affair, we head towards the back to select a range of gowns for me to try on. Zoelle picks three. Irina seven. The shopping attendants send us to the private back room for me to try on the gowns, while Irina and Zoelle are seated in over-stuffed chairs covered in chaste pink to make their critiques. Sparkling white wine soon follows after I come out in the first dress, much to my pleasure. At least this small town knew how to luxe it up.

  I take my time putting on the first dress; my mind stuck on last night’s events. Dinner had turned into a very confusing explanation of what a “soulmark” was and the implications of Ryatt having already sealed it. After all was said and done, I felt myself still choking on anger from the way Ryatt proved the soulmarks existence at the dinner table. Reaching out, he had clasped his hand around the back of my neck. Our foreheads brushing together as I let out a strangled moan from the brief touch. It had been completely unnecessary and embarrassing. Yet his behavior at dinner was downright pleasant when compared to his behavior after

  +++

  “I can’t believe you!” I seethe, marching towards Ryatt’s bedroom. “Here I thought I was the one taking advantage of you—”

  “—You were.”

  “—and then you just go ahead and condemn me to some supernatural life sentence!” My feet hasten towards the bedroom door, guiding me inside the room with quick steps so I might turn and slam the door in his face—the least of which he deserves. Of course, his hand shoots out before I can get it even halfway closed, his face a mixture of frustration and agony.

  “Just let me explain,” he pleads, pushing inside after me and shutting the door with a soft push.

  “I think everything was explained just fine at dinner,” I tell him, fire scorching my words. “Don’t think this little revelation changes the way I feel about you. Which—to be clear—is nothing but absolute loathing.”

  Ryatt looks somewhat aghast. “But Mexico—"

  “Ugh! Mexico was just a job, Ryatt. You and the stupid crystal were just another paycheck. Okay? It meant nothing. I played a role and I played you. That’s it.”

  “Don’t tell me it meant nothing,” he all but growls. “It might have been a job, but there was something real there that night before the soulmark was discovered. At the bar we were tit for tat. We both knew we were playing a game, but we appreciated how well the other played it. I don’t give a damn if you say it was some role you played, I saw you that night. Past your little facade. Past all the ones you keep trying to put up. There was something real between us that night. How can you deny the chemistry we had? Have.”

  “No! There was no chemistry. There is no chemistry. No ‘we.’”

  “For Christ’s sake, Quinn. You house the other half of my soul. Of course there’s something between us. Sealing the soulmark simply sparked something more inside of each of us. A connection that demands to be acknowledged. A craving and desire.”

  My breath stalls, a damnable vise stealing down upon my heart at his impassioned words. His words ring true; at least, this is what my heart begs me to believe. I think on how desperately it wants love. Then remember all the times in the past when it has been denied. I know better than to believe pretty words from beautiful men.

  “More like disgust and revulsion,” I finally choke out.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sharp exhalation. Ryatt gives a humorless laugh, taking a step forward. His eyes smolder with wicked intent. “If you recall, the soulmark also conjures feelings of absolute, all-consuming pleasure. Are you really trying to tell me you didn’t feel it tonight? What about back in Mexico? Or are you usually that enthusiastic about sucking one of your targets off?”

  I match his step with a heated glare, a flush of rage spreading across my body. It lights me up from inside out. “So what if I did? The fact still remains; you had no right to seal the stupid mark without me knowing! To condemn me to a life with you or go crazy!”

  “I had every right! You’re my soulmark. My soul mate! Mine,” he growls. Ryatt’s eyes spill gold leaving not a single trace of familiar blue behind. It’s the wolf, my heart tells me, though my head still dares to deny it. The gold seeps back, leaving a stormy blue in their wake. The man placed back in charge. “If our souls are meant to be one, who am I to ignore it?” Ryatt tells me in a measured cadence. “True, our sealing was not ideal. Nor was it considerately done, but it was obviously more than necessary seeing as you drugged me, then left me for dead.”

  Ugh. A sneer curls its way onto my lip. "Your sister is right; you are sensational. I didn’t leave you for dead. You were fine by morning.”

  Ryatt closes the distance between us, his face inches from mine. A shiver runs across my skin. I credit the action to my anger, but the soulmark dares to suggest otherwise as it thrums against my skin. I bite back a groan of disbelief, steeling myself against the sudden rush of desire flooding through my veins. Why did this happen every time he was within reach? This damnable soulmark was going to be the death of me. Or Ryatt, considering how badly I wished to throttle him.

  Or maybe it would take us both under.

  “I’ll have you know most women would be ecstatic about finding their literal soul mate, not to mention that it’s me—”

  “God! Get over yourself! As if you’re God’s gift to women.”

  Lightning strikes between us. The tension finally comes to a rupture as Ryatt cups my chin and brands me with his kiss. I’m pressed against the window before I can blink, hips pinned in place by his own as my hands tangle themselves into his hair. Something like electricity runs rampant over me. Leaves me aching with the most terrible want. Hands spread themselves across my sides, trailing up my arms before landing on my breasts. We both let out a moan, eyes opening to meet in our haze of anger-induced lust.

  His blue eyes are streaked with amber, and they look down at me with clear intent: ravage. His fingers pinch at my nipples, and I give a startled cry. One he happily consumes, mouth pressing against mine brutally again as I rock my hips forward. A hand inches slowly upwards to my neck and I feel my skin burn in anticipation. With a heady rock of his hips, he earns another moan.

  The edges of the soulmark yearn for his touch—almost painfully so. There is no chance of ignoring the steady beat it raps against the back of my neck and the accompanying symphony of shivers its sends across my body.

  “I want you to remember this,” he whispers in my ear, tongue swiping out to taste it. “Remember the pleasure. The ecstasy of it all, and know that I could give you so much more. If you’d only dare give me a chance.”

  His words stutter on a choke, blue eyes gazing into mine with uncertain trust. And then his fingers find the soulmark and I am lost in a spiral of sensation. Ryatt’s hips buck into mine, a strangled growl sounding in my ear as he yanks one leg up and around his waist. My dress rides up uncomfortably around my hips, but it only leaves the faintest of impressions when compared to the kaleidoscope of feelings careening through my body. Every nerve ending comes alive, standing to attention at the call of such rapt pleasure. It makes my blood sing. My he
art soar.