The Soul's Mark: CHANGED

by Ashley Stoyanoff

  Amelia trembled slightly, completely involuntarily, and before she could stop herself, she hopped off the bed, putting some distance in between them. She had never seen Lola this mad before. Everything about her, from her tight and thin lips, to her flexed and twitching muscles, and her crouched, ready stance screamed fury and attack. Amelia opened her mouth to answer, but when nothing came out, she snapped it shut again.

  “How long, Amelia?” Lola yelled, balling her fists at her sides.

  Amelia cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the plum-sized lump that had formed, and whispered, “Just today.” She didn’t mean to whisper, but her throat kept closing up under Lola’s completely disappointed and extremely furious glare. She felt like a little kid who had been caught stealing.

  “Lola, stop yelling at her,” Mitchell said calmly, with more than a little annoyance in his raspy voice. “I’m fine.”

  It was a lie. Amelia could smell it and she could hear it. His heart hammered and a different kind of sweat began to bead along the base of his neck. She followed his gaze, noticing that it was focused on Lola’s chin. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes and say it.

  Amelia’s stomach twisted and her gums throbbed. If she did it, just gave in and bit him, she wouldn’t have to guess. He’d be an open book. She’d know everything. She’d be able to see how bad this cold was. She’d be able to feel how much pain he was in, and he’d have access to her magic again. It could soothe him. It could help him. And you could hurt him, her conscious reminded her. Remember the burning pain the bond had caused. Remember the hatred it created between you. Remember. Remember.

  Lola shifted her glare to him. “You’re not fine and you damn well know it.” Then she turned to Amelia and paced towards her. Her little floral summer dress brushed at her knees as she moved. She should have looked sweet with her blond pixie style haircut, and soft features, but right then, she didn’t. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded. A pinprick of red flared in the center of her eyes again. “You can’t keep this stuff a secret, Amelia!”

  “I thought it was just the cold,” Amelia said, taking a large step back. “I only noticed it a few minutes ago. I was going to tell you.” And she was. She really was going to tell them. He needed a doctor. She’d already figured that out, she just hadn’t figured out how to get him to one.

  “You should have gotten me immediately,” Lola snapped. “Don’t you get how serious this is? He hasn’t been ill in over eight-hundred years. How do you think his body will handle it?”

  Amelia blinked. What was she supposed to say? If Lola was so bloody worried then why hadn’t she been to see Mitchell in four days? Or was it five? Amelia was the only one trying to take care of him, and really, in her defense, it wasn’t an easy task. All she wanted to do was bite him. It was as if they had all forgotten what it was like to be a vampire living with a human soulmate. She had to be careful with everything she did around him. Between her magic and her new strength and the constant, relentless urge to bite him … well, it was hard to cope, and none of them were helping.

  “Lola, that’s enough,” Mitchell said, through another round of hacking coughs. His face was flushed and glistened with a sheet of sweat from the fever. He clutched at his chest with one hand, rubbing it as the coughing eased, and gestured with the other for Amelia to come to him, but she didn’t. Her fangs were starting to poke through her gums, just a little, and right then, she didn’t want to get too close.

  “Mitchell, she’s my child so back the hell off,” Lola snarled, shooting him a dirty look over her shoulder. Lola was vibrating, her arms shaking and her fists clenched. Her eyes washed red, and her fangs snapped down.

  Amelia saw it happen as if it was in slow motion, although she knew that it was only her vampire senses kicking in. Mitchell tumbled out of bed, and planted himself nose to nose with Lola. Lola raised a hand, most likely to push him back in bed; she even touched his shoulder, and it was that touch that made Amelia lose it. No one touched her soulmate! Not even Lola.

  Amelia’s fangs slid into place, a scarlet haze clouded her vision, and she lunged at Lola. Magic surged through her veins, steaming and sparking, mixing with her vampiric powers. Flares of crimson light shot from her in every direction, exploding in uncontrolled bursts from her skin.

  Lola noticed Amelia a second too late. Her eyes widened and Amelia caught the scent of fear washing off her, thick as smoke. She grabbed Lola’s hand, wrenching it off Mitchell’s shoulder, and as she did, she sent out a blast of magic from the palm of her hand, searing Lola’s skin.

  Lola screamed and yanked her charred arm out of Amelia’s grasp, cradling it to her chest. Her eyes went vacant for a moment. She was calling Luke; Amelia was sure of it, but frankly, she didn’t care. She glanced at Mitchell, making sure he was okay. He held her gaze for a long moment before he said, “Amelia, you need to calm down.”

  Amelia ignored him and focused her blazing gaze on Lola. “Don’t you ever touch him again,” she hissed, her tone was acidic. She felt like a coiled snake, her muscles jumping under her skin, tightening and loosening, just ready to attack. An arm wove around her waist then, and Mitchell’s fever-hot chest pressed against her back.

  “Amelia,” he breathed against her cheek. His hot breath puffed against her face, and tickled the fine hairs on her skin, soothingly. He didn’t say anything else. Just her name. His velvety voice surrounded her and his touch comforted her, like a fleece blanket on a cold winter night. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, letting the feel of his skin pressed against hers envelope her body in a steady stream of sparks. Her skin tingled, and her raging emotions began to calm.

  “I would never hurt him, Amelia,” Lola said. Reluctantly, Amelia opened her eyes and let her fangs fold back into her gums. The last of her magic sputtered away, and Lola took a few steps towards Amelia and caressed her cheek, her eyes imploring Amelia to believe her. “You know that.”

  “Hey, kiddo,” Luke’s booming voice drew Amelia’s attention. “I hear you’ve tried to burn my soulmate again.”

  Luke was smiling, and his quizzical hazel eyes held humor. He walked into the bedroom, and took a seat in one of the marshmallowy brown leather chairs. He was in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, and he looked completely at ease as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He looked the three of them over, all standing together, Mitchell at Amelia’s back, Lola at her front, and he frowned for a second, but it didn’t last.

  Suddenly, Amelia felt sick. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, casting her eyes to the floor. Luke had always been on her side. No matter how childish she acted, or how mean she was, he stood behind her. He’d believed in her when no one else (not even Mitchell) had.

  Dammit! She needed to get it together. Ever since she had become a vampire, she was like a smoldering fire that was just waiting to blow up when the littlest bit of fuel was added. She missed the clean white magic she’d had as a witch, and she loathed the flaming crimson light it had turned into. She didn’t know how to keep her vampiric powers separate from her magic, and when they mixed, it was explosive. She wished she knew how Mitchell had handled the magic when he’d used it through the bond, but in all honesty, she was too freaked out to ask him. Too worried that he would think she was weak. And her being weak was the last thing he needed to worry about.

  “Again?” Mitchell asked, tightening his arm around Amelia’s waist. “Dammit, Lola!” he shouted, and then started hacking again. Amelia turned in his arms, and pulled his arm around her shoulder, helping to support him as he coughed, a painfully wet sound. She helped him back over to the bed, and when he was settled, she tucked the covers around him and handed him a glass of water.

  Mitchell drank it greedily, finishing half the glass before he pulled it away from his lips. Amelia stood over him, wringing her hands nervously. She gathered a morsel of her magic, pushing it out towards him, picturing soothing waterfalls and birds chirping, and he smiled at her, a
silent thank you, before he turned his attention back to Lola. “This is why she needs the bond. She needs help dealing with the magic.” His voice was hoarse and his expression strained.

  “You’ve never helped her,” Lola said, exasperated. “It’s always you that pushes her over the edge.” She glided over to Luke, curling herself up on his lap.

  “And it’s always Mitchell that brings her back,” Luke said sternly, looking down at Lola with hard eyes before shifting his focus back to Mitchell. “Do you think you can help her with it?”

  Amelia didn’t give Mitchell time to answer. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m not doing it,” she said, spinning around to glare at Luke and Lola.

  Mitchell swatted at her as if to tell her to keep quiet. “I can help,” he said. “I’ve done it before when the power was too much for her and I can do it now.”

  Luke seemed to be considering it. His intense gaze raked over Mitchell and Amelia sighed long and loud, but they ignored her. She guessed this was another one of those things that would never change. They had rarely listened to her before, why had she expected them to start now? She stood there for a few moments listening to them discuss whether or not she should bite Mitchell and solidify the bond. Luke listened to all of Mitchell’s ridiculous reasons, such as he missed her, and he thought that he could help her with her magic. It was all the same things that he’d said to her, over and over and over.

  She tried a few times to interrupt and tell them it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to put Mitchell through that kind of pain, and they knew damn well that if he hadn’t been able to control the bond, there was no way she’d be able to do it. But they ignored her, and when Mitchell shushed her, she sighed, a frustrated sigh. They went on discussing Mitchell’s health, and which doctor—if any—they could trust him with, which in Amelia’s opinion was retarded. He needed a doctor. They could all smell it. At this point, did his secret really matter? But Mitchell was pushing back, saying he didn’t need, or want, to see someone.

  Amelia gritted her teeth and listened to them argue back and forth on what to do with him. And she was ready to start pulling out her hair in frustration when an idea dawned on her. She felt the start of a smile twitch at her lips. I can fix him. Right then, she was certain of it.

  None of them noticed when Amelia grabbed her iPhone from the nightstand, and walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hot white light blasted from Megan again. It laced around Eric, tickling his skin and heating his blood. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore his pounding heart, and let the energy in. It was a hard thing to do, letting the magic merge with him. Each time he felt her energy all he could think about was their incredibly hot nights and … her blood. Her blood was … damn, well it was the best blood Eric had ever tasted. It was like a sour soother coated in chocolate. Utterly sweet with a bite.

  Not even fifteen minutes ago, Eric had been in the dungeon with Megan attempting to scrub away the lingering signs of death that clung to the walls like glue. Megan had decided last week that the area was wasted space, and with a little love (and a heck of a lot of renovations), she was determined to turn it into livable space. They had just gotten started when the message on Eric’s cell phone came through. Help, please help me! Kyra, it glowed at him. As soon as his phone beeped with the message, Megan had abruptly dropped her bucket. Eric said, “Here we go again. This time it’s Kyra and Jake.” And without another word, he had bolted for the stairs, Megan right behind him.

  And now the living room he was standing in felt as if it was closing in around him. The milk chocolate walls and solid hardwood floors were suffocating. All the curtains were drawn, sealing the room up tight, the only source of light coming from a small table lamp and Megan’s magic.

  Megan hovered over Kyra, letting her magic cover the girl from head to toe. Kyra was a small, washed out thing, with bleached hair and pasty skin. She was skin and bones, her hips, just as sharp as her elbows, protruding from her jeans as she convulsed on the floor at Megan’s feet.

  Kyra’s screams were piercing, but Jake didn’t care. He stood in the arched doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a smug grin on his face.

  “Anytime now, Eric,” Megan shouted over the shrill screams.

  Eric sized Jake up. He was a bit shorter than Eric was, and not as bulky, but if Eric was remembering correctly, Jake had about one-hundred and fifty years on him. Dammit! Eric didn’t know how much longer he could deal with this crap. One of the others should be here. Someone older. Stronger. Someone who wouldn’t accidentally kill the vamps, while using their soulmate’s magic.

  Jake chuckled, a throaty and cruel kind of sound. “She needs to learn,” he spat. “Mitch may let his girl treat him like shit, but I won’t.”

  More magic poured from Megan in shimmering streams of white and blue. It wrapped around Kyra, coating her in a thick mist of delicate looking light. Eric opened up his senses, siphoning some energy off of a few strands, and channeled it, calling it into the palm of his hand in a fiery ball.

  Jake blanched. His eyes widened, and a slow fleck of red grew in the center. Kyra’s screams died down almost instantly to a soft, breathless sob, and Megan gasped, as she began to draw the pain that Jake was inflicting on his soulmate into herself.

  “Knock it off, Jake, or I’ll burn you up,” Eric snarled, as he pulled his arm back, readying himself to launch the blazing ball of magic in his hands. He hated this part. Feeling the pain of the bond through Megan. Watching someone else inflict it on her. Not that he had ever done it himself, but knowing that someone else could; actually feel her let someone else do it … it sent the demon part of him into a mindless frenzy. She was his. No one else had the right to do that to her. Only him.

  Megan was starting to shake, and she tried to give Eric an I’m okay kind of smile, but he knew she wasn’t. This was the third one today, and after the last, she hadn’t been able to walk for a full ten minutes.

  “She deserves it,” Jake growled, and his face contorted with rage as he glared at Megan. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Megan whimpered. She couldn’t answer. Not anymore. Eric could feel the pain burning her up from the inside out and her knees were starting to tremble. “Jake!” Eric yelled. “Mitch gave me orders. I can kill you. Pull it back!”

  Eric, don’t! Megan sent the frantic thought into his mind. No more deaths.

  Eric ignored her. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t think about anything other than the pain Jake was causing her. He let the blazing ball go, launching it at the vamp. As soon as it left his hand, he felt Megan pull on his senses, and she shot in front of Jake with the speed and grace of a vampire. The ball hit her square on, and she absorbed the blazing sphere of magic back into herself with a loud, shaky gasp.

  Jake crashed to the floor, covering his head with his hands, cursing, and Kyra screamed, “No! Don’t hurt him.”

  “He was hurting you,” Eric snarled, as he glared at Megan. She glared back just as fiercely, with her hands on her hips. She was trembling, just a little, and the last of her magic sputtered away.

  “I deserved it,” Kyra shrieked. “It was my fault. He was hungry and … and … I shouldn’t have listened to Millie!”

  Eric shifted his glare to Kyra, as she crawled across the hardwood floor to Jake. He’d never understand the blind attachment that came with the bond. These humans … even with all the pain, all the abuse, they still wanted to protect their vamps. He guessed Megan would do the same, but part of him hoped she’d let him fry if he did this to her.

  What did Millie say to them? Eric asked Megan silently. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard one of them say something like that and it made his gut twist into a tight knot. Millie was his best friend, and he loved her, but damn, that girl had caused a shitload of damage in the last nine months.

  Just that it should be their choice, Megan sent. Some of the vamps get a bit carried away when they’re taking blood, Eric. They take too much.
Her silent words were dripping with disgust, as she sent him images of finding soulmates barely alive, drained to the point that if they lost even one more drop they would have died. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen those memories. For some of them he’d even been there, seeing them first hand. I agree with her, you know, Megan sent, mixing her voice in with the montage of memories. The humans have rights, too. They shouldn’t be forced to give blood or put up with any of this crap. Things have to change.

  Eric didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he did. It was just that he didn’t really know what to say. Megan was right, he knew that, but he was still a vampire, and that part of him was simmering from her words. He couldn’t help but think about what he might do if Megan refused him of anything, especially her blood. What if he ended up doing what the rest of the vamps were doing? Could he force Megan to give him blood? Yes. Would he? He didn’t know, and not knowing scared the crap out of him.

  It had been two weeks of this crap. Two weeks since the bonds were put back together. Two weeks since Millie had become a vampire, and two weeks since Mitchell had become human. And in those two weeks, all Eric had been doing was pulling vampires and soulmates off of each other. The bonds may have been put back in place, but he was starting to think that the damage that had been done while they were broken wasn’t repairable. He had never realized it before, but the humans had never really fought back, at least not until Millie came around. And now, that’s all they did. Fight back. They’d had a taste of freedom when the bonds had been broken, and now, they wanted it all the time.

  Wanting freedom shouldn’t have been a bad thing, but as it turned out, it kind of was. The vamps weren’t giving an inch. And without Mitchell around to stop them, they were using the bond and the pain that came with it, to its fullest extent.

  There should be a rule, Eric thought for the millionth time. Something to stop the vamps from keeping their soulmates as human pets. Something to force them to change their mates.