The Soul's Mark: CHANGED

by Ashley Stoyanoff

  Tyler’s mark. Amelia wasn’t sure how to process that. And she really wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that none of them were asking her about the water spirit. It was almost as if they were all pretending that she wasn’t there—like she didn’t exist. Amelia wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, and each time she opened her mouth, she found herself closing it just as quickly.

  Mitchell glanced at her, just a quick look out of the corner of his eye. His blue eyes were like a frozen lake, but every few minutes when he glanced her way she’d catch a lick of fire there, as if a flame was trapped underneath the ice, trying to thaw him. She knew it was killing him to keep her at arm’s reach, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why he was.

  He was tense, his shoulders stiff, and his flexed muscles made his T-shirt taut across his chest. His soft, dark curls were gelled just enough to keep them from looking frizzy and his firm jawline was shadowed with stubble, matching the dark smudges under his eyes. He still looked like a dark angel even in his weakened state—confident and deadly.

  “Mitch, you okay?” Luke asked. His nostrils flared, and his eyes shifted to a muddy red.

  Amelia gave herself a little shake and took in a deep breath, catching the sour odor, almost like vinegar thickening in the air. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks as she narrowed her eyes and looked Mitchell over. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and down his neck, saturating the collar of his shirt. Amelia wanted to stand up, anxiety twisting a painfully tight knot in her stomach. She pushed out her chair, but as her chair legs scraped against the floor, he locked eyes with her and said, “Stay there.” His voice was raw, as if he had swallowed a mouth full of sharp glass and it had torn his throat.

  Amelia wrung her hands and her breath caught in her throat. Maybe it was the eight-hundred or so years of being a vampire, of being powerful, but even as a human his stare was full of command. “But you need …”

  “I don’t need anything,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m fine.” There was nothing unkind about the way he said it. His tone was gentle, but it still hurt, and Amelia’s stomach dropped. He held her eyes for an excruciatingly long moment, keeping his stare even and his face straight, not giving anything away, before turning his focus to Megan. “Can you think of anything that could numb the pain?”

  Amelia wasn’t sure when they had started talking about the bond, but hearing Mitchell talk about it shot another burst of painful heat rushing through her veins. This morning she had woken up ready to strengthen their bond—determined to fix him—but now she wasn’t so sure. Not after watching Eric and Megan. Not when she knew Mitchell would pick every fight he could think of with her to force her into trying to fix the bond. Dammit! Where had he gotten that stupid idea from? He knew damn well that she had been working on a solution for the past two weeks. She hadn’t ignored him as he’d been insinuating. She’d even told him that she was making progress just a few days ago. What the hell was the rush now?

  “You’re all looking at this all wrong,” Amelia said through her teeth. “You don’t need to numb the pain.” Her magic flared again, in a burst of scorching fire. “What you need to do is deflect it back to him.” Blazing heat seared her skin and she vaulted up with a snarl. “I can’t do this.”

  “Millie …” Eric started to stand, but Amelia waved him off. She didn’t trust herself enough, not even with Eric, and she wasn’t about to risk him or any of them.

  “No,” she hissed. “I’ve got to go.” It hurt to breathe. Amelia felt the air searing her throat with every intake. She couldn’t stay there. Not with her magic so out of control. She could kill them all in a blink, and with each passing second, it seemed more and more likely that it would happen. She turned from her family, and walked stiffly out of the kitchen and through the house, forcing one foot in front of the other.

  ****

  Mitchell watched the sway of Amelia’s hips as she turned her back on him, and walked out of the room. Her eyes had been so cold, colder than he’d ever seen them before, and his chest squeezed tight. Staying away from her was harder than he’d thought it would be, but he knew that if she wasn’t going to take the bond, she’d have to find a way to control the magic without him. He wasn’t always going to be there to soothe it.

  He still had no idea why his touch calmed her power. Mitchell figured it probably had something to do with her soul trapped within him, but whatever it was, it worked and every part of him wanted to rush after her and calm the fire that was burning within her.

  “You can’t do this to her,” Eric said under his breath, when they heard the thud of her bedroom door. “It’s not right. You can’t let her suffer like this.”

  “I have to,” Mitchell said with a sigh. “I’m not always going to be there to touch her. She can’t rely on that. If she doesn’t want the bond, she needs to figure out how to deal with the magic on her own.”

  He looked up at Eric, who was still standing as if he was going to go after her. His leafy-green hair was disheveled, and his matching eyes, tortured. But that hand … the one clasped to Megan’s shoulder tighter than needed; that was the thing that Mitchell really noticed. Something was shifting in Eric. He’d seen it when Eric had first admitted to killing the vampires and he saw it now. It was cold and possessive and verging on emotionless and that was exactly why they needed to figure out how to change the bond.

  But right then all Mitchell could think about was Amelia. He needed to know what the spirit wanted, but he was terrified to find out. What if …

  “Mitch?” Megan said, drawing his attention. “What does she mean by deflecting it back?” Her forehead was littered with fine lines, like cracks in paint, as she scrunched her nose in thought.

  Mitchell raked a hand through his hair, trying to concentrate. His skin was tender and damp from fever, and he felt as if his mind was slipping. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been one-hundred percent focused, and now it made him feel weak and more than a little useless. Amelia had said she was looking into changing the bond, but honestly, he hadn’t really believed her. She’d barely talked to him about it, and when she had, she’d been so evasive with her progress that he’d figured she’d been avoiding dealing with the problem.

  Lola laughed. It was a startled kind of laugh, and she slapped her hand on the countertop. “We can’t feel the pain,” she said. “Remember when you first bit her? She asked if you could feel it and you said it was uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt.”

  “She’s a genius,” Luke blurted, startled, as if he had never really believed that Amelia was all that smart.

  Mitchell arched a brow, and quirked his lips. “Yeah, she is,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair and standing. He glanced at Megan and said, “Meg, can you start looking into it? See if you can find a spell that will bounce the pain back.”

  “Yeah, sure, but where are you going?” Megan asked. She wiggled her shoulder, the one that Eric clasped with a pinching looking grip, and shot Eric a look, but he didn’t let go.

  “I need to know what the water spirit wanted,” he said. “Eric, that hand’s a bit tight, don’t you think?”

  Eric glanced from Mitchell’s tight glare to his hand. He grunted what Mitchell thought was some sort of an apology, and let go, slinging his arm over her shoulder instead.

  Mitchell exchanged a thoughtful look with Luke. The anxiety that gripped at his chest felt foreign and wrong. He huffed in frustration and mouthed, Watch them, before spinning on his heels and going after Amelia.

  CHAPTER 14

  There were very few things in life that Amelia was sure of. She could count each one of them on one hand. But right then, those few things felt unstable. Yesterday she would have said that Mitchell would always be with her, and Eric would always be her best friend, and Willowberg would always be her home, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  All she could think about was forcing Mitchell to do what she wanted. She could force him. She cou
ld take away his independence and his freewill with a single bite, just like he had done to her and that was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to stop him and his stupid ideas about fixing the stupid bond. Why couldn’t he just let her handle it? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been trying. And really, she was close to the solution. She could see what needed to be done, and she was pretty sure she knew how to accomplish it. She just wanted to be certain before she tried. Too many people were at stake to risk accidentally ruining the bond again.

  Amelia pushed the door open to her bedroom, her mind wandering back to the water spirit. She found herself wondering if today counted as one of the three days. Probably. If she only knew what happened in three days …

  The red haze thickened around her. She needed to cool down. She couldn’t think like this. Couldn’t think with Mitchell so close, but yet, still so far away. Her gums throbbed, and her throat felt so dry. Right then, Amelia wanted nothing more than to taste him, and cool the hunger that burned through her body like wild vines of fire.

  Amelia pushed open the French doors. Her eyes landed on the large pear-shaped pool in the backyard and she stepped onto the terrace. The hot, humid air hit her as if she had walked into a wall, but she pushed through it. She needed to get away from him, cool down before she did something rash.

  It was pointless; Amelia knew that. To save Mitchell they needed the bond, but her fear ... it was consuming her, closing in around her and threatening to bury her under its weight. She understood what he was doing, keeping just enough distance that she would struggle with her power. Proving to her that he was right. That she needed him. But how could she give into a need that would surely cause him pain? Amelia was sure that he would force the pain. Mitchell didn’t give up. And right now, he was looking for a solution to stop the pain of the bond. She knew if he had the chance, he’d use himself as the test subject.

  She stripped down to her bra and underwear, jogged over to the pool, and dove in. The cool water sloshed around her, cooling her skin only slightly. The crimson glow from her power wove through the water, spreading throughout the pool, and in seconds, it looked as if she was floating in watery blood. Every vampire’s dream, she thought bitterly.

  Amelia couldn’t say how long she floated on her back when she sensed Mitchell coming. It was an odd feeling, one that touched every nerve with tingling warmness. Not as strong as it had been with the bond, but it was still strong enough to make her fangs sharpen and extend. Her body tensed, she started to sink a little, and she had to consciously think about breathing in and out to stay buoyant.

  “What did the spirit tell you?” Mitchell asked. His voice was tight, but it wasn’t with anger. Amelia could hear the fear as clear as she could smell it, and she hated how that fear made her heart beat a little faster. The scent was sweet. It filled her lungs with each slow breath she took, and it made her gums itch with the relentless urge to bite him, taste him, have him.

  “How could you ask them to do that to each other?” she countered hotly, ignoring his question. Her entire body was rigid, and she stood up in the water, unable to stay floating. She kept her back to him, not ready to look at him. She was sure that he hadn’t noticed the subtle changes in Eric, like his possessive hand clasped on Megan’s shoulder, gripping her tightly as they sat at the island, or the way he looked at her from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the love-filled look he usually gave Megan. It was something entirely different, as if Megan was no longer a person, but a thing to own.

  Mitchell didn’t answer her. The musical sound of his heartbeat, fluttered in a weakened rhythm, filling her ears, and the sweet, sweet scent of fear wafted about her. Her fangs snapped down fully, and her magic pulsed brighter. She flopped back into the water, and started to swim.

  Mitchell glared down at her from the edge of the pool, as she swam lazy laps, enjoying the cool water brushing against her blazing skin. He was trying to look angry, but she noticed the slight curve of his lips as he tried to fight against the smirk that was trying to form. Clearly, he knew exactly what his fear was doing to her. He sighed, a gusty sound. “You left me no choice, love. Eric and Megan can help.”

  Amelia bit her tongue on the nasty things she wanted to say, and swam up to the edge of the pool, resting her arms on the ledge. “You always have a choice, Mitch. You just rarely make the right decision.” She was about to point out that he also knew damn well that she’d been working on a solution, but she was cut off by his amused chuckle.

  He crouched beside the pool and dropped his gaze. “Amelia, I’m dying.” A broken kind of smile stretched across his chiseled face and he heaved a sigh. “This isn’t the time to stand by and watch to see if you’ll figure it out. What did the spirit say?”

  Amelia’s heart stopped beating and her chest squeezed tight. Dying. It was the first time he’d actually admitted it. He’ll come back, a cruel sounding voice said in the back of her mind, as if her soulmate dying was no big deal.

  She reached out, running a finger along his sandpaper jawline. She let her hand trail down his neck, tracing his mark, before she tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. She didn’t know what she had expected to see there, but the intense love that shone through was more than a little overwhelming.

  Mitchell caressed her cheek, and she melted into his touch. Her magic pulsed once, a happy little pulse, and then it dispersed, evaporating into the air. The angry fire that burned inside her gut calmed. She looked at him, really looked at him. And right then she knew she had to give into the urges. Not just for her, but for him.

  “Love, I need to know. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

  Amelia sighed and heaved herself out of the pool, sitting on the ledge. “That I have three days,” she said bitterly.

  “Three days for what?” he coaxed, but the frightened light in his eyes told her that he already knew the answer.

  “He told me you knew. That I needed to listen to you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she sucked in a loud breath, wishing she could take them back.

  Mitchell’s eyes lit up, dancing with humor, and he chuckled. “Finally,” he said with a smug grin. “Someone’s finally trying to talk some sense into you.”

  Amelia groaned. “This is so not the time to gloat, Mitch.” She popped up from her perch, putting her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.

  Mitchell held up a finger, standing up slowly with a maddening grin playing on his lips. “Let me enjoy this for a second. I love hearing that I’m right.” He chuckled again, but then his expression shifted, and his eyes heated as they raked over her body. “Couldn’t you have put on a bathing suit or something?”

  “How is this any different than a bikini?” she asked with a devilish grin. She ran her finger along the lacey black strap of her bra and arched an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

  Mitchell’s lips thinned, and for a second, she thought he was going to yell at her, but then she caught the fire burning in his eyes again, the hunger and the desire. “Love, do you trust me?” he asked. His voice was deep and husky.

  Amelia cocked her head, watching him intently as she thought about his question. In theory, it should have been an easy question to answer, but in reality, it wasn’t. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

  Her answer shocked him. She saw it in his eyes and she heard it in the soft catch of his breath. “I kind of expected that answer, but I’m not going to lie; it hurts like hell.” His shoulders sagged a little. “At least I know what’s stopping you now.”

  Amelia didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t entirely that she didn’t trust him. With the important things, like keeping their family and their town safe, she did. But when it came to them, to their relationship … love was easy with soulmates, but trust, that had to be earned. She stepped closer to him and leaned against him, letting him envelope her in his arms. “What is the three days about? What happens in three days?”

  “I don’t know w
hat happens,” he murmured, hugging her tightly. His shirt was damp and his skin, hot and sweaty. “But I know we have to fix the bond like your mother told you.”

  “I think I can fix you,” she said, looking up at him and resting her chin on his chest.

  He laughed. Hard. Her chin bounced on his chest and he smiled down at her. “I’m not a broken toy, love,” he said through his laughter.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, giving him a dirty look, and then she sighed, a gusty sound. “I’m really sorry I wouldn’t listen to you before.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle. He leaned down, littering her face with kisses. “You know I love you, right?” he murmured against her lips.

  “I know.” She went up on tiptoes, nuzzling at his neck. “Are you sure you want this?” she asked, letting her fangs graze against the sensitive skin just below his ear.

  “More than anything,” he whispered.

  Amelia struggled feebly for a moment, over the onslaught of emotions—love, pain, hunger, need—before giving into them. She nuzzled his neck, her fangs elongating, and she nipped lightly, barely nicking his skin. Mitchell trembled, only slightly with a shiver. She could feel his racing heart beating against her chest, and smell his desire thick in the air, so thick that it masked the infectious odor that had been wafting from his skin. She kissed the tender skin that covered a throbbing vein in his neck, as she sent a small amount of magic to coat her fangs, hoping it would help dim the pain of the first bite, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and let her fangs sink into his neck.

  The taste of his blood exploded on her tongue. She’d expected it to be stale and sour, full of infection, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was Mitchell in his finest form—tangy, with a hint of spice. Exactly how he had smelled before the infection took over his body. He gasped, stiffening in her arms, and his body tensed against her. His neck muscles squeezed and tightened, pushing on her fangs, as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his blood.