Immortal Wounds

by Nicole Grane

  Chapter 20: Promises

  I could feel my body going from hot to cold as I tossed and turned. My mind moved through dream after dream, pulling me deeper into a sleep from which I could not awake. A brilliant light moved slowly toward me . . . I held my arm over my eyes, shielding them, as it got closer.

  Soft hands gently touched me around the neck. I looked up into Damen’s face. His eyes, an endless sea of blue stared longingly back into mine.

  “Damen?”

  His mouth took mine, crushing it forcibly. I broke free, slapping him across the face. A deep menacing growl escaped him.

  “You can’t do that! I never said I loved you!” I yelled defensively.

  “How can you deny it?” he snarled.

  I could feel myself stepping away. His body shook with anger. His eyes, bright yellow now, glowered back at me—watching as I slowly retreated.

  “I won’t ever love you,” I breathed. Even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true.

  He flew at me—his sharp claws swiping across my body, spilling my blood all over the ground. He had ripped my clothes and skin to shreds. I thrashed wildly under him, trying to break free; screaming for him to stop.

  “Phoebe! Can you hear me?”

  Marcus! I couldn’t call out to him . . . Brian was on top of me—crushing my body with his, suffocating me. His mouth moved over mine, denying me the air I so desperately struggled for.

  “No!” I cried, gasping, as my mouth broke free from his. “Get off me,” I begged.

  “Phoebe!”

  I could hear Marcus’s voice, faintly calling out my name, but I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t find him anywhere! His voice sounded so far away.

  “Phoebe, come back to me.” I could hear the pain in his voice. “I beg you . . . don’t leave me again.”

  “Marcus . . .” my voice was weak.

  “I’m right beside you. Can you feel my hand?” He sounded desperate. “Phoebe, I’ve got your hand; I’m squeezing it now. Can you feel me?”

  I could feel something . . . “Marcus, hurry, before they come back!”

  “No one’s going to hurt you, Love. I won’t let them.” Marcus's voice sounded urgent, louder now. He had to be close. But where was he? I still couldn’t see him . . .

  “They already did,” I cried in defeat feeling that I was slipping farther away from him again.

  “No! Phoebe, you’re safe. You’re in bed. You’re dreaming. Open your eyes.”

  “They are open,” I cried out. “I can’t see you . . .” Hot tears streamed down my face as another silhouette moved toward me. This one I didn’t recognize, but by the way he was looking at me, I knew my death would come swiftly.

  “Please darling, open your eyes.” I could hear the pain in Marcus’s voice. I didn’t want him to be in pain—ever. “Darling, please . . .”

  I put all the strength I had into turning away from the stranger and tried to open my eyes like Marcus had asked. It was as if I were trying to lift bricks with my eyelids. There was a small strip of light at first. It was extremely bright. I wanted to look away.

  “That’s it darling, open your eyes, I’m right here beside you.” I could feel his hand, still squeezing mine.

  Little by little, my eyes opened. Everything was blurry at first. I could just barely make out Marcus's anxious face looking back at me. I don’t know where I found my strength. I reached up and pulled him to me, my lips taking his by surprise.

  “I’ll give you some privacy, Sir.” I heard Richard say as a door closed.

  I didn’t even look his way. I had Marcus, my beautiful Marcus. “You’re alive!” I continued with the barrage of kisses across his face.

  “Phoebe,” he tried to speak past my lips.

  “I was so scared. When you didn’t come for me, I thought—” I couldn’t say it. It didn’t matter anyway. He was alive, and I wanted him desperately.

  “You scared us,” Marcus spoke past my lips. “Richard had to revive you, you stopped breathing!” Careful not to put his entire weight on me, he let his body fall on top of mine.

  “Marcus, I need you . . .” My lips took his again and again. He was just as eager now. His hands held my face, pulling me deeper into his kiss.

  “I’m right here darling. Tell me what you need and it’s yours,” he said without hesitation—and without understand my meaning.

  “I don’t want to wait any longer, Marcus. I want you to make love to me—now.”

  I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer to mine, as if that were possible. The sudden tenseness in his posture told me he’d finally understood my meaning.

  “I won’t waste another day. You could be taken away from me at any moment.” I ran my hands down his hips and back up his shirt, lingering at his chest. “Love me . . . like you used to.”

  He pulled his head back. His eyes burned with desire. He wanted me. Oh how he wanted me. I lifted his shirt, revealing his magnificently sculpted chest. I ran a finger slowly down the center, pausing at his naval. His breath caught.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said. A soft smile settled on his face.

  “How would you know? You won’t let me take a stitch of clothing off,” I pretended to pout.

  “You forget, my love: I rescued you from drowning in the shower.”

  “Oh!” I don’t know why but a feeling of surprise washed over me. I felt myself blushing. “I thought you said you didn’t look!”

  He smiled sheepishly. He’d seen me . . . all of me.

  “That makes you blush! You’re trying to seduce me, but the fact that I saw you naked in the shower while saving your life—yet again I may add—makes you blush?” He laughed in disbelief as he moved to get up.

  I lifted my nightshirt off, throwing it to the floor. His laughter had stopped instantaneously. The cool air on my fevered skin felt good. Small beads of sweat on my arms and chest glistened in the soft glow of the room’s light.

  I could see Marcus’s chest rising up and down rapidly as he gazed upon me. I watched his eyes turn from chocolate brown to amber in almost an instant.

  “Phoebe . . . the entire household would kill me if I made love to you now; you nearly died! They’d think I was a selfish cad—especially Richard. He worked tirelessly to bring you back to me.”

  “I’ll thank Richard later.” I grasped his shirt and pulled him back to me.

  He could have easily resisted. He was much stronger than I was. But he fell on me, his chest pressing into mine, while his mouth took my breath away, swallowing the soft moan that escaped me. His kiss was heady. He reached his arm around me and hefted me up, allowing him to push away the blankets that separated us. I could feel my body getting warmer still. I didn’t know if it was from desire or my fever returning. His touch alone was enough to heat my blood to boiling.

  “Phoebe . . .” his voice was soft in my ear. “You’ll have to let me know if I’m hurting you, I might not be able to tell.”

  His eyes met mine—they were red, like the ruby that still hung around my neck. “I’m not afraid,” I whispered back.

  I couldn’t feel any clothing between us any longer. The soft bedding beneath me was nothing compared to the way Marcus's skin felt against mine. My body trembled at the touch of his fingers moving over my skin.

  I held the back of his neck, pulling him to me. I kissed him fiercely. Never had the need been so great. I needed him as if he were my last breath of air.

  “Careful darling,” Marcus warned as he tried to pull back a little. I wouldn’t let him. I felt desperate, like we could be separated at any moment.

  An image of Marcus and I, making love—in this very bed, surfaced from deep within my mind. The room was darker then; the flames from the fire were our only light. I remembered how their shadows flickered and danced across his face . . . I remembered how he held me . . .

  The urgency of my kiss struck him. He fisted my hair, pulling me harder against him. “Are you
sure?” he breathed. While his lips moved down my neck and over my shoulder.

  “I’ve never been more-sure of anything.” I closed my eyes, savoring the soft kisses that cascaded down my arm, electrifying it. I’d never felt so alive . . .

  “Phoebe, will you marry me?”

  My eyes popped open. “What?” It was an all stop.

  “Will you marry me, and be my wife until the end of time?” he asked again, a little more fancifully.

  “Now?” I could feel my cheeks flush. They were getting hotter by the minute. I don’t know why his question took me by such surprise, perhaps because we’ve only been reacquainted again for such a short time, although our life together was not to be compared with the normal course of an ordinary relationship. Marcus and I seemed to be old souls, forever intertwined. I guess I felt like Marcus and I were already married. Clearly we weren’t—that was the old Phoebe—lost over seven hundred years ago. Or maybe the old Phoebe wasn’t so lost after all? Maybe she was right here with him now. Maybe she’s always been here. Maybe the reason I never committed to anyone else was because there was no one else—no one but Marcus, that is.

  “Phoebe.” Marcus claimed my attention, drawing me from my reverie. “I never made love to you before we were married. I won’t dishonor you that way now.”

  “Marcus . . .”

  He smoothed the hair from my forehead, pinning me with a penetrating stare. “I will promise you now, and before God, that I will marry only you and love only you. I will care for you and protect you, putting your life and happiness before mine, always! Until the day I perish from this earth, all that I have is yours.”

  My mouth gaped open. I stared at him—speechless.

  “You only have to say yes . . .” His eyes, a soft shade of amber, stared hopefully into mine. He held my bandaged hand, kissing the palm of it—proof that I was safe with him.

  Never could another love me as much as Marcus did. He would die for me in an instant if it meant sparing my life. He loved me with every fiber of his being. He would always love me. And I would always love him.

  My eyes filled with tears. I tried to think of something wonderful to say. Something that would be as poetic, and although all I could manage to say was a simple “yes,” the look of joy that filled his face told me it was enough.

  He lips collided with mine. I could feel the excitement in his kiss as he held me close to him, rolling over so that I was now on top. I lifted my head back to look at him.

  “Did I hurt you?” he looked momentarily panicked.

  “No.” I smoothed his face with my hands. “I just wanted to know if we’re officially engaged now; or was that a private wedding we just had?”

  “I guess you could call it both,” he said with a smile.

  “There was a time when a man and woman could declare themselves to each other . . . and they’d be married. It’s what we did centuries ago,” he added. His eyes sparkled as they stared lovingly back at me. “Do you remember?”

  I searched every corner of my mind. My breath caught. “On the bluff, when we first kissed!”

  “Yes.” The smile had spread across his face, touching his eyes.

  The day Marcus first kissed me was the day he’d married me. I smiled at the memory. He’d said, at that moment, he knew he wanted to spend all of eternity with me—and I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to spend it without him.

  “So we’re sort of . . . married now?” I bit my lip, suppressing a squeal. I couldn’t hide my excitement.

  “I can have the official paperwork here before the end of the day if you’d like.” He lifted his head, his mouth moved along my shoulder, nibbling gently, but never breaking skin. He laid his head back, his eyes searching mine. A look of worry now filled them. “What is it? Have you changed your mind?”

  “Are you sure you want to pledge your love to a . . .” I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “ . . . Half werewolf . . . disaster zone?” I asked lifting my hand for him to see.

  He took it gently, kissing it once again. “As you have proven, you heal rather quickly.” His fingers now traced along the side of my ribs. They were still a little tender, but nowhere near as distressed as before. “And you are not a werewolf!” he added firmly. A smile hung on his face

  I half-smiled, still not trusting in those words. “But you’re still afraid to make love to me . . . aren’t you?” I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. This conversation was making me sweat. My whole body felt clammy now.

  “Yes,” he admitted flatly, his eyes looking squarely into mine. “I am afraid to make love to you.”

  “I understand.” I gave him a small smile as I moved to get up.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he teased, flipping me onto my back. My breath caught as I hit the mattress. “I believe we were in the middle of something when I’d asked you to marry me?”

  “But, I thought you were afraid?” I protested.

  “I’d be a fool not to be.” His voice was husky now. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His lips kissed mine gently before they moved over my neck. My heart jumped into motion, pumping faster for him. “I’m doing it again aren’t I?” I could hear him grinning, “Making your heart call to me.” His teeth barely grazed my skin, causing me to shiver. “I never said I didn’t want to make love to you,” he mused. “Or that I wasn’t going to try, now did I?” He looked at me with a somewhat devious expression on his face. “You didn’t think I could say no forever did you?”

  “I hoped not,” I said in a sultry tone. I nipped at his lip, causing a frustrated groan to escape him.

  I giggled, flinching away from a well placed kiss. A moment later, I was sweating profusely. My ears began to ring as I watched the room spin around me. My eyes were going in and out of focus.

  “Marcus.” I gripped his shoulders tightly, trying to center myself. “Something’s wrong with me.”

  His face came back to mine, his features were still out of focus. His hand rested on my cheek, and then my forehead . . .

  I moaned, the coolness of his touch, relieving the fog momentarily.

  “You’re burning up again!” he exclaimed. His eyes wandered over me, pausing at my shoulder—I didn’t think it was possible for him to turn so pale.

  “Marcus?” my voice sounded far away, muffled even.

  “Phoebe? Can you hear me?”

  I read his lips. I shook my head no. I couldn’t hear a thing over the loud ringing in my head. My eyes, so heavy, started to close.

  “No! Phoebe, don’t go to sleep. Stay awake.” He shook me lightly.

  My head swayed from side to side—my eyes out of focus once again.

  He jumped up and began dressing.

  “Where are you going?” I asked sleepily. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, I did!” he growled.

  “Marcus.” I rolled over, as I tried to sit up. “Ow!” My hand clutched onto my throbbing arm.

  Marcus rushed back to me. “Phoebe I’m sorry! I don’t know how—my tooth must have—I was being so careful!” he hid his face in his hands.

  “You bit me?” I gasped. I released my shoulder and stared at my fingers, small traces of blood now stained them. “I’m bleeding!”

  I jumped up. The room whirled around me, distorting itself so I didn’t know which way was upright. I didn’t want to leave an open wound, no matter how small it was for Marcus to see. I pulled the sheets around me and started toward the bathroom. I staggered about seven steps when I crumpled to the floor like a house of cards.

  “PHOEBE…!”