Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy

by Grane, Nicole

  “Nothing,” I said in a strained voice. “I tried to reach out once again—instant pain; so much for quick healing.

  “Why didn’t you just ask for my help?” Marcus reached over my head, opened the compartment, and took down my overnight bag from home.

  “I could have done that myself.” I snatched the bag out of his hands.

  “I’ll just leave you to it then.” He put his hands out and backed away. “There. You can pick out what you’d like—all by yourself,” he mocked.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant,” he chuckled. “As much as I regret it, you’re still in pain.”

  I folded my arms in a pout. I was still fuming at his closed minded opinion about me helping him.

  “You can be such a child at times . . . it’s really quite amusing!” he laughed heartedly.

  “I’m glad I amuse you. You’ll see; I’ll be better in no time. I won’t always be so helpless,” I growled, huffing past him.

  Marcus grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks. “Just what exactly do you mean by that?” He studied my face. “What is going on in that head of yours?” his eyes were growing dark again.

  “What are you talking about?” I decided to play dumb.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You do remember what you promised before I left you to sleep?”

  “Of course I do.” I looked him right in the eyes.

  He watched me carefully for a moment then released my arm.

  “I’ll be back in a bit,” I said quickly as I dashed for the bathroom to wash.

  It felt good to get cleaned up. Unfortunately my bandages were starting to come loose. I knew it would have to be redone, and I knew I couldn’t do it myself. “Damn. I hate being so dependent,” I grumped out loud.

  I finished my hair and makeup, brushed my teeth, and put on my jeans before I took a deep breath and reluctantly opened the bathroom door.

  Marcus was sitting on a chair, reading the newspaper from yesterday. He looked up to see me standing in the doorway with one hand holding a hand towel across my chest, and a roll of gauze in the other. The expression on his face caused me to instantly blush.

  “I was wondering if you could help me with this?”

  “You’re asking for my help, Miss Independent?” he smirked.

  I stared at him, pursing my lips as I tried to think of a real zinger—I had nothing.

  He got up and walked over to me. His cool fingers brushed my hand as he took the gauze. His eyes met mine. There was a look of devotion; unlike I’d ever seen reflecting back at me. As if he was saying, I didn’t even need to ask. I gave him a small smile.

  “This looks better,” he said encouragingly as he tilted his head, examining my arms.

  “Yes . . . sort of.”

  “What’s wrong?” He looked taken aback.

  “Could we just get this over with please?”

  Marcus followed me over to a chair and knelt down beside me.

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable doing this?” I asked, once I’d sat down.

  “I helped you yesterday. Why would it bother me anymore today?” he looked confused by the question.

  I took the deepest breath I could before I shifted my towel. I knew he was going to freak out. There was no way around it.

  “How is this possible?” he hissed.

  “Marcus, please. Don’t look at it, just wrap it!” I said through closed eyes.

  My torso was covered in painful deep purple bruises. What wasn’t visible before certainly was now. There was no sign of it healing.

  “If we weren’t over the ocean right now . . .”

  “What, you’d jump out of the plane?”

  Marcus shot me a menacing look.

  “You’d jump out of the plane!” I nearly shouted in disbelief.

  “Phoebe, have you looked at yourself?”

  “Of course I have,” I replied sharply.

  “I’ll find him.”

  “Marcus please . . . just let it go . . . I’m sure Brian won’t bother me again.” I winced, as he began pulled tighter on the wrap.

  “I will not let this go. Do you think I would ever let you go home, knowing that that pathetic excuse for a human is walking the streets? I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  I squinted, my eyes while Marcus made his final pass across my ribs. I let out a breath of air. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done that myself,” I admitted quietly.

  Marcus placed his hands on my shoulders, stealing my attention. His thumb lightly moved along the base of my throat. I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder as his eyes turned a beautiful shade of amber—a color that would have frightened anyone—but not me. They drew me in deeper.

  “I will protect you,” his lips promised with a kiss.

  I let my eyes fall shut. It seemed like forever since he’d kissed me like this, soft and sweet. I felt myself melting in his arms, savoring the warmth of his embrace. He held my body to his, pulling me closer with each kiss. His lips glided softly down my neck as I gasped for air. It was as if he commanded my blood to flow faster. I opened my eyes and watched the room spin around me. His lips, now moving along my shoulder, made me keenly aware that I was still nearly underdressed; and we were hardly alone. I moved to get up, the blood rushing to my head with a whoosh. I fell back to a sit.

  “Are you alright?” Marcus gripped my arm, steadying me.

  “I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, that’s all.”

  He grinned knowingly. “I’ll get you a shirt.” He rose to his feet then paused. “I am allowed to pick it out, aren’t I?”

  I gave him an exasperated look. “Yes. Something warm though—and not the red one!” I instructed as he reached into my bag. “Oh just give me the black shirt.”

  Marcus looked up, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure? I’d hate to pick the wrong one.” I could hear the sarcasm in his voice and frowned at him.

  The fasten seatbelt sign came on again.

  “Lord Ashworth, we’ve been cleared for landing. The car is already waiting at the gate,” Richard’s voice came over the intercom.

  “My home is just outside of Durham . . . about a five hour drive,” Marcus remarked as he took his seat beside me. “The black one.” He handed me my shirt.

  “Thanks,” I replied dryly.

  He turned his head, allowing me privacy while I put it on; although I knew it took all his strength not to help me. If I made the slightest sound of discomfort, Marcus came unglued!

  I looked out the plane window as we touched down. It was just about dusk when we came to a stop. I stared out at the unfamiliar scenery. My eyes fixed on a man leaning against a shiny black car off in the distance.

  “Phoebe?”

  I pressed my face up against the plane window, straining my eyes to see through the darkening sky. I jumped back, nearly toppling over the seat behind me. I cried out in pain, uttering obscenities under my breath. I’d forgotten about my wounded body.

  “Phoebe!” Marcus had leapt over a seat to get to me.

  I pulled him down close to me and whispered, as if the man by the car could hear. “Raymose is outside!” I breathed.

  “What?”

  “Raymose. He’s outside.” I pointed to the window above my head. “There, by the car!”

  Marcus looked out the window for a moment and then turned back to me. He looked uneasy.

  “Do you think he saw you?”

  “I don’t think so.” I was still whispering.

  “How did you know it was him?”

  “I just . . . recognized his face.”

  “Stay here.” Marcus shot me a stern look before he opened the hatch and stepped out into the night.

  I stayed on the floor quietly for several minutes before I decided to sneak a peek. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on. I prayed he hadn’t seen me.

  Raymose was talking to Marcus by the car, his back to me. Marcus must have positioned the co
nversation that way so there wouldn’t be a chance of Raymose seeing me if I decided to look through the window—he knew me well.

  I ducked my head. Marcus had started to walk back toward the plane. It didn’t look like Raymose planned to leave anytime soon.

  Marcus walked through the door just as Richard came out from the cockpit.

  “Are you quite alright, Miss?” he asked as he noticed me sitting on the floor.

  “Yes Richard, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t dropped anything before I left.” It sounded like a good excuse to be crouched on the floor.

  “Richard, I need you to drive Miss Rose directly home. It is extremely important that she doesn’t leave the plane for at least ten minutes.”

  “Yes of course, Sir. I’d be happy to see Miss Rose home. I’ll just be a moment up front.”

  Marcus knelt down in front of me. “Phoebe, I don’t have much time. Raymose is here to take me to Luther. The werewolves have been ravaging the countryside, killing most but turning as many as they can.”

  I stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Richard will take care of you—”

  “But what if Damen comes?” I worried. “How can Richard take care of me?”

  Marcus's brow furrowed. “Phoebe, I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you regarding Richard.” He stared me squarely in the face. “I didn’t want to frighten you, but now I find that I have no choice. Richard is a werewolf.”

  “What!” I gasped. “You want me to ride for five hours in a car with a werewolf?”

  “Phoebe, I trust Richard with my life . . . and with yours,” he added firmly.

  “But what if there’s a full moon? What if he turns into a werewolf?” I was on my feet now heading for my bags.

  “What are you doing?” He sounded tired. “Phoebe, I really must go.”

  “Then go! I’m going to catch a commercial flight home.”

  He grabbed my arm and spun me around, causing me to drop my bag.

  “Ouch,” I winced. “Marcus . . .”

  “You are not going home without me!” he warned. “It’s not safe!”

  “And riding in a car with a werewolf is?” I snapped back. “I’ll take my chances with Brian, thank you.”

  Marcus’s expression softened. “Phoebe, please. Trust me. I have to leave you with Richard now . . . he will take care of you. I promise. You like Richard don’t you?” He played on my good will.

  “Yes . . . but now that I know he’s a werewolf . . .”

  “And I am a vampire,” he interrupted. “Do you think any less of me?”

  “That’s not fair, and completely not the same thing!” I protested.

  “Phoebe!” he pleaded. His hands were cupping my face, his eyes demanding my full attention. I looked long into them.

  “Oh, alright.” I resolved. “I’ll go with him. But if he tries anything wolfish, I’m out of that car,” I threatened. “I’ll walk back to the airport!”

  “You will not travel alone. Damen is back now—you’re not safe,” he stressed, his hands gripping my face firmer now. “None of us are.” He pulled me to him. “We’ll be together soon, I promise.”

  I nodded, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. I was so afraid for him to leave.

  “My home is your home,” he lifted my hands to his lips, kissing the tops of them, one at a time. “It used to be your home too, once upon a time.” He smiled warmly.

  A tear fell. “Marcus, please be careful.”

  His mouth crushed into mine, taking me completely by surprise. The intensity of his kiss frightened me. As if he was asking me to hold onto him and never let go.

  He pulled back—as breathless as I was—and was out the door before I could whisper good-bye.

  Chapter 17: Richard

  “Are you ready to leave now, Miss?” A voice from behind me called out.

  “Richard!” I clutched my hand to my chest, trying to still my heart. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “Very good, Miss. Let me help you with these.” He picked up my bags and carried them off the plane. He looked around before he gave me the all clear.

  After a few minutes discussion, Richard agreed to let me sit in the front beside him. If he was going to do anything wolfish I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss it.

  We started down the highway and had been driving for about twenty minutes before Richard broke the silence. “Are you excited to be visiting England Miss?”

  “I suppose. I didn’t have such a good trip last time . . . that’s not true, most of it was wonderful,” I prattled on nervously. I looked out the window trying to see something, anything. All I could see was endless black. I couldn’t tell if it was the countryside or sky—it all blended together. I sighed, slumping back into my seat.

  “Are you alright Miss?” Richard asked as he continued to drive into the darkness. “You seem . . . preoccupied.”

  “I’m sorry Richard; I don’t mean to be impolite. I’m just worried about Marcus.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine Miss. He’s very capable of taking care of himself. I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you.” He smiled—I could see his white teeth gleaming in the dark. I shied away from him. I had a vision of me as Little Red Riding Hood sitting beside the Big Bad Wolf.

  We drove on in silence. I kept trying to close my eyes and sleep but my mind kept wandering to the werewolf that was sitting beside me—I couldn’t relax. I looked at the clock, an hour had passed and neither one of us had spoken a word. I decided it was my turn to break the awkward silence.

  “Richard, how old are you?”

  “Well now, I’m…” he paused for a moment. “Thirty-six Miss.”

  “I mean how old are you really?” My question was implying.

  “Miss?”

  “Marcus told me you’re a . . . werewolf.” I added the last bit quickly.

  We drove in silence for a mile, then two, three . . .

  “Say something Richard, please!”

  “I see.”

  “That’s it. You see?”

  “What would you like me to say; Miss?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought we should be honest with each other,” I shrugged.

  “Very well Miss. What would you like to know?” His tone was pleasant. Like we were old friends talking about ordinary things.

  “For starters, how old are you?” I asked again, a little impatiently this time.

  I could see Richard smirk a little. “I’m six-hundred and thirty-six years old.”

  My mouth dropped open. I had to consciously make myself shut it. I still wasn’t used to hearing how old my new acquaintances truly were. Even Marcus admitting he was seven hundred and forty-nine still didn’t seem possible.

  “Why are you working for Marcus?” I continued.

  “I’ve been working for Lord Ashworth for nearly ninety years now,” he explained. He’s honest, and treats me with respect. There aren’t many places a gentleman like myself can live and work.” Richard chuckled, making me feel more at ease.

  “But why would you stay with him? I thought there was some sort of war going on between the vampires and werewolves?” I wasted no time continuing this line of questioning.

  “I’m not a traitor, Miss, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No. Of course not!” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  Richard seemed to relax. “The werewolf that created me was bit directly by Damen. I don’t share the same views as the majority of the werewolf population. I don’t wish to annihilate the vampire species. I think we can co-exist as we have for thousands of years. That’s not to say I believe in the slavery of werewolves either,” he pointed out quickly. “But I am hardly a slave. I belong to no one.” There was so much pride in Richard’s voice. I didn’t doubt him. He stayed with Marcus because he believed in him.

  I thought about his words. My eyes darted back and forth as I realized what he’d just said to me.

  “Richard. Were Damen’s
memories passed down to you as well?” I knew the answer.

  “Yes Miss.”

  “Then you know about Phoebe? I mean the other Phoebe,” I spoke excitedly.

  “You look just like her, Miss.” He smiled fondly, glancing my way.

  I smiled to myself, delighted. Not only did I have the other Phoebe’s memories, but I looked like her too . . . I was beyond pleased.

  “Now you, Miss.” Richard seemed to be feeling comfortable now. “Would you like to tell me why you’re still partly human?”

  My breath caught. “You can tell?”

  “Your, forgive me, scent Miss.”

  I suppressed the urge to smell under my arms again.

  “Why haven’t you changed?” I could hear the uneasiness in his voice.

  “Marcus didn’t tell you?” I asked, honestly surprised he hadn’t.

  “Lord Ashworth doesn’t explain everything to me, Miss. My job isn’t to question what he does, but to assist him.”

  I sat quietly for a moment before I told Richard the whole story: from my attack in London only a month and a half ago, to the attack this morning in the park. I found Richard surprisingly easy to talk to. He listened well and didn’t ask pointless questions.

  We had been driving for three hours when I had brought him up to date on my life thus far.

  “Richard, there’s one memory in particular that I need to figure out. There was a time when Damen and Phoebe were in the woods, and—”

  “I won’t discuss that, Miss.”

  “Why not?” I protested, taken aback by the firmness of his voice.

  “There are certain things that need to be left in the past. Besides, you were bit directly by Damen. Your memories are stronger than mine would be,” he conveniently added; although I secretly believed he was lying.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Richard was apparently going to be a dead end.

  “So how did you find Marcus?” I asked, looking back toward the window. Hoping that the subject change would pull me out of my now bad mood!

  “My memories from Damen helped me to learn who would share my views on the war. I came to Lord Ashworth’s estate ninety years ago and have been with him ever since.”

  “Are we almost there?” I sounded like an impatient child.

  The corner of Richard’s mouth twitched. “Yes, Miss, we’re almost there.”