Romantic Fantasy

Page 37

by Grane, Nicole

“You were foolish to come,” he snarled, ignoring my attempts to break free.

“Damen, let me go—and why are you naked again?”

He laughed a loud throaty laugh as he continued to run away from the fight with his bounty—I wasn’t getting away.

We’d just cleared the edge of the battlefield when a sudden blow hit us in the side, knocking Damen off his feet and into the air. I screamed out in agony as his body crushed mine against a tree.

A loud snarl, more menacing than I could have ever imagined ripped through the night. Marcus had Damen by the throat and had flung him over his shoulder with as much force as a wrecking ball smashing through a cement building—Damen had landed with as much grace, crashing into the ground.

Marcus planted himself in front of me, crouched, ready for an attack.

“Marcus,” I breathed.

A deep growl slipped from behind Damen’s teeth. His eyes, a sinister shade of yellow, were fixed on Marcus. He roared—

I covered my ears at the sound, shuddering as Damen transformed into a werewolf.

My eyes searched the ground frantically, looking for my sword . . . there it was, just a few feet away . . . I didn’t dare move toward it.

Marcus was already in the air before Damen had managed to get a foot off the ground. He collided with Damen again, shoving him back into a large tree trunk, smashing it to bits. The treetop came crashing down around them, trapping them between its large, tangled branches.

I dove for my sword. My fingers just barely touched the handle when Damen broke through the branches—my heart fell as he ran at me. I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact—I screamed, horrified. Blood was spewing everywhere. I scooted back along the ground. A loud yelp pierced my ears. Marcus had Damen by the shoulder, his teeth embedded into his skin, dragging him away from me.

Damen fought like a rabid dog, growling and snarling viciously. He kept trying to maneuver his way back to me. He rammed Marcus in the gut with such tremendous force; I didn’t know how he had the strength to get up. It was worse than any street brawl I could have imagined.

I kept jumping out of the way, but Marcus managed to thwart Damen’s efforts every time he came near me. It was a horrific sight to watch. I held my stomach tightly, hoping not to get sick. I didn’t want to see Marcus this way—bloodied and merciless.

Damen roared, ripping himself out from under Marcus’s bite. He flew at me again, his teeth coming inches from my throat. I jumped back, falling over my feet.

“Phoebe run!” Marcus yelled as he held Damen tightly around the neck—I could see blood dripping from his mouth. “Run!”

I turned away from them and began running. The fighting was everywhere. There was no escape route. Wolves came at me from every direction. I swung at them, not paying attention if I’d killed them or just wounded them. I kept on moving forward through the death and noise. I must have run around in circles. I could see Marcus running toward me through the smoke—yelling my name. I turned around just in time to see Damen rushing at me, his teeth bared. I swung my sword and caught him with the tip right across the chest—his blood splattered across my face.

He screamed out in pain as he fell backward onto the ground.

I ran. I didn’t care where I ran, just so it was far away from here. I wasn’t strong; I wasn’t the Phoebe they thought I was, the Phoebe I wanted to be.

The sky was getting lighter now. I choked on the smoke that hung low in the air. The torches had caught several trees on fire. Flames and smoke filled the valley floor. I’d ran up a small embankment, my fingers digging into the dirt, hoping to get away from all the noise and fighting. I stopped just at the top—my mouth gaping open.

“Aidric!” I whispered aloud. It couldn’t be anyone else. He was massive, just like Marcus had said. He looked like a gladiator, a block of muscle and strength, considerably larger than Luther. As for me . . . his leg was bigger than I was.

He had shoulder length brown hair that hung loosely around his face. His face was hard looking, yet . . . beautiful! He didn’t look much older than Luther. His features were sharp and enhanced by his yellow eyes.

He hadn’t seen me. I squatted down behind a fallen tree, my eyes just peering over the top as I watched him for a moment. He was beating his fist on a boulder. Pieces of the rock were breaking off around it.

I glanced back down at the battlefield. The vampires were pushing the werewolves back. Somehow, they’d gained the advantage.

Luther! He was off his horse, slaying the wolves himself! Fighting alongside his men—he was amazing. The strength and determination on his face left little room for doubt that he’d ask nothing less of his men than he was willing to do himself. I was proud to be his daughter.

I pried my eyes away, looking back to Aidric. He was growling at the wolves around him. They cowered as he ranted.

“No,” I breathed out loud. I put my hand up to my mouth, not trusting myself to remain quiet. I crouched lower to the ground. I understood him! Just as I’d understood Damen. This had all been a trap to lure Luther out into the open, away from the safety of the coven where Aidric could kill him. He didn’t need me like Damen thought. I’d have simply been a pawn, icing on the cake, as Aidric enjoyed the torment Luther would have endured at his daughter’s death—no doubt slowly with great pain before his eyes.

The wolves hadn’t been able to find me, but it was of no consequence now. I’d have been the backup plan, which was no longer needed since Luther had so gallantly joined his comrades in arms. He was prime for the taking—and who better to secure that victory than Aidric. I could see the lust in his eyes as he glowered at Luther with untold hatred.

I looked back to my father, watching him for a moment. He moved so lithely, effortless slaying the vicious beasts that attacked him and his men. I couldn’t let him die! If I could get to him before Aidric and warn him . . . I’m sure he’d forgive Marcus for keeping me from him . . . for loving me the way I am. He had to! If Luther died, there’d be no stopping Aidric from killing the others. Raymose, Richard, Marcus . . . not my Marcus!

I could feel my blood start to boil at the thought of Luther’s death. I slid back down the hill, into the smoke, into the fighting. I had to run fast if I was going to get to Luther before Aidric did. All wounds I’d incurred—forgotten as I pushed my body to run hard. My heartbeat sounded like thunder, like a drum hammering, readying the troops for battle. It drowned out all other noise.

I ran to Luther as if he and I were the only soldiers on the battlefield. I pushed past the brawls, past the snapping teeth, past the small fires that threatened to spread, with such speed and determination—I felt unstoppable.

My eyes were fixed on Luther. I held my sword tight in my hand as I ran toward him.

Aidric’s body flashed by out the corner of my eye—only he wasn’t in his human form any longer—he was a massive gray wolf. A shadow of a memory Damen had given me confirmed who he was.

My mouth had gone dry. Aidric’s muscles flexed as he covered the ground at a rapid speed. I didn’t know how I managed to keep up with him. We moved as if we were in sync. Like a flock of birds, one moving with the other. But unless one of us stopped, Aidric and I were going to collide—Luther being the point of collision. There was no avoiding it, but I couldn’t let that happen. I ignored the burn in my legs as I cried out, pushing my body forward.

The rest happened so quickly . . .

I glanced from Aidric to Luther, who looked alarmed as he saw me running at him, sword in hand.

Luther’s head snapped to his right, his teeth barred. Aidric was approaching him fast. Luther looked back to me, fear flashing in his eyes. He must have seen the resolve in mine, and as I lifted my sword higher, he roared. “NO!”

“PHOEBE NO!” Marcus's voice reverberated all around me, making Luther’s scream almost a whisper.

I couldn’t stop. I dove through the air, managing to get to Aidric before he reached Luther. I could hear the violent roar
of pain as my sword cut through his middle. He pulled my body to his—razor sharp claws slicing through me—I screamed out in agony. Our bodies intertwining as we soared through the air, landed in a violent heap amongst the charred ground.

Aidric’s body lay lifeless across mine. I cried out as I struggled to push him off me. I pulled myself up, and with great effort, I pulled my sword from his middle, blood dripping from the blade. The world spun around me. I used my sword like a cane and leaned on it heavily—it was the only thing holding me upright.

I looked around, my eyes settling on Luther. He was standing not far from me, looking too stunned to move. He stared at me with his blood red eyes—I wasn’t afraid. I felt myself smiling—he was alive!

He bowed his head slightly to me.

“Phoebe—”

I turned my head to see Marcus running toward me. His feet slowed as he neared. His expression: horrified.

I smiled widely at him. I took three slow steps toward him, dragging my sword along the ground behind me. I felt the handle slip through my fingertips as I staggered forward another step. I stared into Marcus's crimson eyes as I felt myself falling . . .

“Noooo!” He caught me before my face hit the ground. He flipped my body over, cradling my head in his lap. I could feel his cool hands on my face. “Darling . . . what have you done?”

“Marcus, there’s too much blood.” I barely recognized Raymose’s voice. It sounded so strained. So unlike his own.

I looked long at Marcus's face. I could see him forcing a smile for me as he gently pushed back the hair from my forehead. He looked as though his heart had been torn from his chest.

“I saved him . . . I saved Luther . . . you’re safe now Marcus.” I choked on the blood in my mouth. “You don’t . . . have to worry . . . any longer. He’ll forgive you . . . for not . . . telling him . . . about me. I know he will.”

“Yes Darling.”

I sputtered, spitting the blood from my lips. My time was nearing its end. “Marcus,” I choked. “I release you . . . from your promise.”

His eyes met mine. “Phoebe?” His voice was shaky.

I reached up and touched his angel-like face, smearing blood across his cheek as I did so. “It’s alright,” I breathed heavily. “I’ll find you again . . . I swear it.” My hand fell with a thud from his face.

“NO! Not like this! You’re not going to leave me again, do you hear me?” he demanded, shaking me violently.

My eyes struggled to stay open. I could barely focus on his image any longer.

“Phoebe, don’t leave me. I won’t live this life without you . . . I’m begging you!” He wailed as he rocked my limp body back and forth against his.

I felt him lift me up into the safety of his arms. He held me tightly to his chest. I could smell the familiar scent of his skin as I inhaled shallow breaths of him. A sudden feeling of peace engulfed me.

“Marcus, you have to let her go; there is nothing you can do for her now,” Raymose spoke softly.

“Don’t touch her!” Marcus hissed, holding me closer still. “I won’t let her die!” I could hear the pain in his voice. He was desperate. I didn’t have the strength to sooth him.

“She’s already dying Sir.” Richard spoke now. The devastation in his voice was unmistakable—his heart was breaking too.

“I’ll make this right!” Marcus thundered. “Not heaven or hell will keep us apart again.”

“Marcus you can’t!” Raymose’s words were absolute.

Marcus growled. “You forget, Raymose . . . she is not your responsibility. She’s mine!”

“My son,” Luther’s voice, although thick with sorrow, was like music to my heart. “Let me care for her.”

“No.” Marcus stepped back, shielding me from them. “I will make this right. I won’t lose her again.”

I could feel Marcus running with me in his arms. Cool air suddenly whipped past my face. We were flying. I wasn’t afraid to fly anymore. I wasn’t afraid of anything.

“Phoebe, stay with me; you’ve got to stay with me.” Marcus's voice shook with panic. He held me so very close to him. I could feel the moisture from my chest freezing against my skin. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t cold any longer.

My heartbeat was slowing. My eyelids . . . they’d never felt so heavy.

“Marcus . . .”

“Just a little farther Darling, hang on. I’m going to get you to a doctor.”

“Marcus . . .” I breathed. I looked up into his beautiful face and smiled. “Can you still hear our hearts?”

He hugging me tighter. “Yes, my love, I can hear them. They beat very softly . . .”

I took a breath. I knew I was taking him in for the last time, letting his essence encircle me. My eyes fell shut. All pain melting away . . .

“NO! PHOEBE!” Marcus's scream sounded like a distant whisper floating across the wind.

I felt my body jerk as a sharp stabbing pain attacked my neck. It lasted only moments and then, nothing . . .

###

Time Line & Characters Information

*War Between Vampires & Werewolves began in 1012

*Marcus Ashworth: Vampire, leader of the Moon Hunters, and Phoebe’s husband

1260- year of birth; England

1286- became a vampire

1287- appointed leader of the newly-formed Moon Hunters

1288- married Phoebe.

*Phoebe: Half human, half werewolf, has a past life; current age: 23.

1142- year of birth; Romania

1177- became a vampire

1299- year of death

*Richard: werewolf

1379- year of birth; England

*Raymose: vampire.

1086- year of birth; England

1114- became a vampire

*Damen Balfour: werewolf

1111- year of birth; Scotland

1147- became a werewolf

1152- assigned to protect Phoebe

*Luther: Leader of vampires and Phoebe’s father

year of birth estimated around 30 BC

*Aidric: Leader of werewolves

year of birth estimated around 30 BC

A Glimpse into Book 2

Prologue

Marcus

The sun had rose and set three times now. Phoebe remained motionless. Her heart, still and quiet. Her lungs had not taken in any air . . . although, if she were indeed like him now, there would be no need for it.

Marcus had laid her in bed. Not her own, but another, in a more remote wing of the castle, where no one would happen upon her. He sat quietly. Grieving. Praying. He touched her cheeks with the back of his hand. Strange. Her skin felt almost flushed. Not cold like he’d imagined it would be. The wounds that once covered her ravaged body were gone. His bite had mended them. Or perhaps it was indeed her ‘super healing powers’ as she had referred to them on many occasions that had healed her. He smiled down at her affectionately.

“Aidric will pay for this,” he vowed, his teeth grinding together. He’d rip out his throat personally. He’d lost her twice now. His heart ached more with each passing hour.

Richard had come several times, wishing to take her—but Marcus would not let her go. No one would touch her but him. She was his after all: his to love, his to protect. And he would protect her, now and always. No one would ever harm her again. The very thought consumed him with such rage. He bit down on the inside of his mouth, drawing blood. The taste, warm and necessary, gave him release.

He laughed to himself. She’d thought him over-protective before. When she awoke, she’d find him more so. He wouldn’t care. He’d rather her complaining than this . . . this never-ending slumber.

Marcus smoothed Phoebe’s hair from her forehead. She looked so lovely lying there, so peaceful. An angel sent down from the heavens: His angel. She’d ended his centuries of torment and despair. He’d loved her more than anything in the world. So much so, that he’d never given himself to another woman. Not in the seven hundred and
ten years he’d thought her dead. There was no replacement for her then . . . there would be no replacement for her now.

They’d only had a short time together. He’d found her in London four months ago, laying on the ground after Damen, a werewolf and the reason for her death so many centuries ago, had bitten her. Marcus had followed her back to the states. He had to know the extent of her infection. He’d resolved that even if Damen had turned her completely, he would not leave her. He could not bear to stray from her side. Not now, after finding her again. He would have Phoebe, no matter what she’d become. He would awaken their love. Somehow, she would remember him.

By a miracle of God, yes . . . he believed there was a God now. For only a God could return his beloved Phoebe to him and bless him with her love once more. Despite the horror of finding out that he was a vampire, she’d fallen in love with him. She’d remembered through her dreams that they had shared a life together: An immortal life as husband and wife. She’d accepted that she had once been a vampire herself and that although Damen had bitten her, by the grace of that God, she would not turn into the monster she feared.

He could taste the venom in his mouth. He’d brought her here, into his world to protect her; and he’d failed!

He growled as he recalled her desperately asking that if the time ever came, if she were dying, for him to bite her. He’d protested vigorously. His venom was so lethal to a werewolf . . . and her, still partly human . . . the outcome was unimaginable. She’d pleaded, begged that he would find some way to keep them together; even if that meant turning her into the unimaginable, a half werewolf, half vampire. “An abomination.”

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He would not regret what he’d done. Phoebe couldn’t stand to be away from him anymore than he could bear to be away from her, and in the end he’d agreed. He could deny her nothing. Yet . . . he’d hesitated . . . he’d waited too long. Damn. She should have awakened by now, he thought.

He placed his ear over her stomach, listening . . . silently begging. There was no heartbeat. The child he’d longed for . . . the child Phoebe had tried to protect . . . Aidric had taken that too.

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