Stolen Love (YA Paranormal Novella)

by Cooper, Jodie B

  He snapped his jaws shut and his back stiffened. His words blew my hope to smithereens. Teach me to think.

  “What's going on Trina?” Eric asked angrily, curling his upper lip in a snarl. “I told you I never wanted to talk to you again.”

  “You don't want to talk to me? Or is it Clarisse who doesn't?” I asked gently, carefully keeping my temper in check. A temper tantrum right now would do more damage than good.

  “It's the same difference. She's my mate.” Defensively crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at me.

  “Eric, you can't stand her. How many times have we passed her in the hall and you held your nose?” I asked, trying to make him see something, anything other than his blind honor. Stupid vampire upbringing, I hated it.

  “Doesn't matter what I felt in the past. Once my screwed-up synth finally sings, I'll love her more than...” he abruptly stopped speaking and glared me. “I don't have to explain this to you. Port me home. Now.”

  I snorted, shaking my head. “No way, not until you agree to listen to reason.”

  “Reason? Dang it, Trina, reason says, she's my mate!” Eric argued, fisting his hands. “You're breaking the law by interfering between two mates. You can't keep me here against my will.”

  “Yeah, well, you know where we are so unless you want to walk five miles to the nearest house good luck with leaving,” I said, reminding him we were at the family camp grounds, which thankfully didn't have a soul around for miles.

  “Are you saying I can't walk a measly five miles?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing; an indication his temper grew a little hotter.

  “No,” I said on a sigh; one filled with exasperation, frustrated that we were arguing over something so stupid. “I'm past puberty and I wouldn't want to walk twenty feet in this weather.”

  Dark clouds filled the sky, boiling in the fierce March winds that kept hitting the windows. “It's been sleeting off and on for hours. Weatherman says it'll change to heavy snow before tonight.”

  He spread his legs, as if bracing for a fight and held out his hand. “Fine, let me borrow your phone.”

  I shook my head. “I didn't bring it.”

  He laughed without humor. “Yeah, right, like I believe that whooper of a lie. Try a different excuse. You never go anywhere without that thing.”

  It was my turn to shrug. I couldn't very well tell him I left it behind because it wouldn't stop ringing. Jessica at VPS kept calling me, insisting I start my internship today. When I told the production assistant no, she nearly popped a gasket, but I didn't care. No way would I leave my mate for something like that. The internship was important to my career, but Eric was my future. Period. Without him, I could care less if I shoveled manure for the rest of my life and I detested stable duty.

  “Look, it's just the two of us, and you know I'd never tell, so can't you at least try forgetting about the quote 'honorable vampire response' and look at the facts?” I asked, not pausing before he could answer. “I've been watching you two. Clarisse never even speaks to you, except to order you around. She treats you like a servant. That's not how lifeMate's treat each other. And another thing, you don't look at her with a dopey look on your face.”

  “Dopey?” he demanded incredulously, his lip hitched up with distaste. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Gah! You're just arguing with me to argue. How many times have we laughed at lifeMates and how they're all goo-goo eyed toward each other.”

  Holding my gaze with cold eyes, he said, “You're wrong about everything. She is my mate. I know she is because my synth has been buzzing from the very first day. Sometimes, the synth song changes and sounds like a darn bumblebee's nest. That only happens when I get too close to you. I couldn't figure it out at first, but I think it's my body's way of demanding I stay away from you because my synth knows you hate my mate.”

  “Eric, please that's not...”

  “Enough! I can feel the lifeBud waking up,” he said, speaking of the small organ each Sídhí had nestled in the middle of our brain. An organ that remained dormant until we met our destined mate. It allowed Sídhí mates to permanently bond with each other. “When I return to town I'll find Clarisse and open my end of the bond.”

  “No!” I cried horrified at the consequences of what he was suggesting. Each person's lifeBud could only be activated once in our entire lifetime. Once we opened that tiny organ, it remained active for only a very brief period, no more than a minute maybe less. After that, without forming a mental link - a lifeBond - with a mate, the bud shriveled and died. If he opened his lifeBud for Clarisse, we'd never be able to become bonded mates.

  “Eric, that's insane. You've got to listen.”

  “No. Until you decide to port me home, leave me alone,” he snarled, turning on his heel he stomped out of the front door into the nasty weather wearing nothing more than a pair of huge baggy sweat pants and a t-shirt.

  Near tears, I swallowed, wondering if I should give him a chance to cool down but I couldn't help myself. He was mine to protect. I rushed toward the door, grabbing a hooded parka from a hook next to the door.

  The wind and little pellets of ice hit me in the face, but for the most part, it had stopped sleeting. “Eric?”

  He stopped halfway across the wide covered deck.

  “Would you give it up already?" he asked harshly. "You're only doing this because I said I was crazy about you, aren't you? I only said that to ease the blow of never speaking to you again. You know, like a goodwill gesture to the loser. It was a pity gesture!” He turned. Emphasizing his words, pity flashed through his eyes enhancing his icy glare, smashing my heart into splinters.

  ~ ~ ~

  Eric rushed out of the house, needing fresh air that was not - repeat not - laced with Katrina's scent of honey and spring blossoms. His head felt like it was ready to explode it was buzzing so loud.

  The door slammed behind him and she called his name.

  At her softly spoken word, Eric paused. Clenching his fists in his sweats, he hated himself for what he was about to do, but if Trina was going to get on with her life he had to make a break between them. His words came out harsher than he planned, but at least he spoke them.

  He turned, expecting her to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved.

  She stood less than three feet away, holding a coat out to him. Long brown hair slapped her slender face as it whipped in the wind. Gentle brown eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. “It's cold out.”

  Silently he took the coat from her.

  "Trina…" He started to speak, but she turned and fled into the house.

  He growled, harsh and deep. The sound rumbled through his thin chest, furious with himself over hurting her. How could he have done that? He hadn't simply hurt her; she looked shattered beyond repair. Blast it all! He just made the one person he loved more than his own life cry and…

  He jerked to a halt. Arms halfway in the coat he stopped, eyes wide at his sudden revelation. Loved? No, no he cared for her that was all. He thought she was awesome. Everything she did was perfect. Yeah, he was crazy about her, but love?

  He shrugged into the coat and dropped onto a tarp-covered chair.

  Well, crap. Of all the times, he finally realized his true feelings for Trina - life's most incredible reality smacked him in the heart - it had to happen after his synth buzzed like a bundle of bees for someone else.

  How was that even possible? How in the world could he love Trina when his synth was demanding someone else? He didn't even feel pulled toward Clarisse, not the way he felt pulled toward Trina.

  Surprise, surprise, his synth was so messed-up it never sang for Clarisse, just irritated the blue-blazes out of him by constantly buzzing morning, noon, and night.

  He swallowed hard and leaned back, pulling the massive coat around him. As big as it was, it had to be Jared or Nick's coat, both teens were muscle bound, topping six feet.

  Thumping his head backward, against the wooden slats of the chair, he
closed his eyes. Why him? His screwy synth was bad enough, but it wasn't supposed to drop him in the pits of hell. Oh yeah, he didn't doubt for one instant having Clarisse, as his mate, instead of Trina, would be filled with a thousand years of Mate Hell.

  His thoughts rambled this way and that way, growing blurred the longer he sat unmoving.

  He choked on a snore and jerked his eyes open, glancing around the deck. The worst crisis of his life and he fell asleep. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but the sky was black.

  Without warning, his night vision started working. As if the sky was twilight and not pitch-black, he watched thick swirls of snow falling from the sky, coating the front lawn.

  The white fluff didn't hold his interest for more than a second or two.

  His thoughts returned to Trina. His mind didn't have far to go; she was never far from his every thought. The last few months without her had been horrid. The last few days had been even worse, and knowing she was hurting multiplied his pain. The thought of losing her hurt more than a stake rammed through his heart. A ruptured heart would heal, but the mere thought of leaving Trina was literally killing him.

  She was like a huge flood light, brightening his entire boring life. Of course, that made him a moth and everyone knew light bulbs and moths had a love/hate relationship.

  He closed his eyes, but hastily jerked them open. He needed to find Trina and talk to her, not fall back to sleep.

  She was right. The facts spoke for themselves. He didn't love Clarisse and he didn't think he ever could. Even after he bonded with Clarisse, he would forever love Trina. Yeah, now wouldn't that go over well with a new lifeMate?

  LifeMates felt every single emotion their mate felt. Clarisse would feel his disgust for her and his love for Trina. He groaned, roughly rubbing his face with the heels of his hands, feeling the chunk of lead in his chest growing heavier by the minute.

  The honorable path, the one requiring him to mate with someone he didn't love, seemed hopeless.

  The only reasonable solution would be to reject his mate. Rejecting a mate was not only dishonorable, but would have huge repercussions for him and everyone involved.

  Sídhí only had a single lifeMate. He'd never get another and neither would Clarisse. He would be dooming both of them to a future without a bonded mate.

  His honor would be destroyed. People would shun him and his family. And since Clarisse was the daughter of a politically powerful vampire, he didn't doubt Councilman MuskLeke would make Eric's life a living crap shot.

  He sighed disgustedly. Was he on the third or fourth consequence of refusing his destined mate? His thoughts ground to a halt, not really caring to listen to himself. Anyway, listing the repercussions would take all night.

  The single good thing that would come of not bonding with Clarisse would be Trina. That is, if she would forgive him his hateful words. Yeah, that was a big if. He'd never seen her so hurt and vampires were notorious for holding grudges.

  He'd never begged, but he might not have a choice. And if she did forgive him, what could he offer her? Ask her to be his mate without bonding? Yeah, right. Even if she did want him, and that was a big if, the minute her synth sang for her predestined mate she'd dump Eric like a ton of bricks.

  He didn't know how long he sat thinking about all the pros and cons, but when he finally came up for air, his nose felt like ice. He twisted his neck and a resounding pop graced his ears. He shifted and became aware of how the coat restricted his shoulders.

  He raised his arms, stretching his shoulders. The sound of ripping fabric jerked him to a halt. Eyes wide, he dropped his hands and rubbed them down his legs, feeling the fabric of the skin-tight sweat pants.

  He chuckled. The deep, rumbling sound of his changed voice startled him and he boomed with laughter. Hot damn! He'd been so worried about so many other things, primarily Trina, he hadn't noticed how big he'd grown.

  His growth spurt hit and it hit all at once. He couldn't wait to show Trina.

  He jumped to his feet, only to go stumbling across the deck as he tried to get his now massive body to work properly. Halfway across the deck, he tripped over his feet. Down he went, smacking his knees against the wooden boards.

  A sharp crack broke the silence of the night. Ripping up the short nails, the opposite end of the broken plank snapped up and thumped him in the temple.

  He dropped to his butt and blinked as birds flapped around his head.

  He sat stunned, trying to gain control of his new body.

  He rubbed the side of his head, wondering where Trina was. He had made a heck of a racket. Normally, she'd be rushing outside curious to know what all the noise was about.

  No doubt, she was still angry with him.

  He had some major butt kissing to do. He grinned, hoping that she wanted him to kiss her firm little butt. His new and improved body would tower over her slender form. He flexed his arms, grinning at the ropes of muscles along his arms and chest.

  He focused on his hearing. All of his senses had been fading in and out, but for once, it actually worked. He listened to the snow and wind hitting the house. He couldn't believe his ears. He heard the snow falling or maybe it was the wind moving the snow. Whatever, it seemed like the crystallized flakes made a soft whooshing noise as they swirled around the lawn and a nearly hissing noise as they fell through the trees, sliding across leaves. How cool was that?

  From the house, he heard the fridge pop on then the furnace, but no sounds of movement hit his sensitive ears. Could she have been angry enough to leave him? Possibly. He couldn't blame her if she did. He'd been a total jerk.

  He raked fingers through his hair, absently noting it was thicker.

  He turned his attention to the second story, hoping she might be taking a shower or reading a book. She loved epic fantasies, buying book after book that hit the mundane world's bestseller list.

  When he finally heard her, he froze. All movement, including his breathing stopped.

  He jumped to his feet, narrowly missing the new gaping hole and dashed toward the door.

  He jerked the wooden screen door open, distantly wondering why Trina's uncle hadn't removed it for the winter when it cracked off its hinges. His hissed in frustration and dropped the door to the ground, running into the house, not taking the time to consider his increased strength.

  Taking the stairs three at a time, he hurried into Trina's bedroom. She'd used the same one for years, but even if she hadn't he could've found her by her sweet scent alone. Honey and blossoms surrounded him. The bitter smell of grief cut him to the core of his soul.

  The bright yellow room looked cheerful. Dotted with life-sized posters of Sídhí movie stars the room yelled teenage girl's territory, containing three double beds and space for a couple of cots. Huge throw pillows and an assortment of lake toys lay piled in one corner, several dressers took up the opposite corner.

  Eric had been in her room hundreds, if not thousands of times over the years. He didn't see anything except Trina. She lay on her side, curled in a tight ball. Her entire body shuddered as she sobbed into the pillow trying to remain quiet and not succeeding.

  His heart twisted, hating himself for hurting her.

  His knee sank into the bed, but she didn't seem to notice.

  For a few seconds, his hands simply fluttered over her, not sure what to do next. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and turned from her, realizing his mistake.

  Mistake

  I smelled him the moment he walked into my room, but I couldn't quit crying. I rarely cried, really. But the last few days I couldn't seem to quit. Once I started, I felt like Niagara Falls. There was no stopping me.

  His scent came closer, surrounding me with sharp hints of dark spiced cider on a cold winter's eve. I sobbed harder, wondering how I could've misunderstood him. My world was shattering and I didn't know how to fix it.

  Well, that wasn't quite true. I had a couple of ideas, each one worse than the next one. I could chain him in silver an
d keep him a prisoner until his synth sang for me or I could tell him my synth had already sung for him or I could bite him. Sometimes biting between mates triggered the synth song.

  Honestly, I didn't think any of my so-called plans would work and killing Clarisse no longer seemed like a good idea, not when he really thought she was his lifeMate.

  I was so frustrated. I always thought Eric's ability to give the most stubborn mule on Earth lessons in hardheaded behavior was funny, now it was working against me. I couldn't think of a single way to change his mind.

  An iron-flavored scent caressed my senses and I hissed, snapping upright in the bed I looked for the source of blood.

  Stunned at the sight before me, I didn't move. Well, that wasn't completely true. My jaw dropped to my chest. I sat staring in awe at the broad back covered in a ripped tee.

  Oh, my gosh! He had to be six and half feet or more. He straightened and I upped my estimate by several inches. He was bigger than his dad was. Muscles rippled under the stretchy fabric and I rapidly swallowed my whimper of yearning. I needed to touch him so badly I could taste it.

  Eric yanked the strips of cloth off, revealing golden smooth skin. My eyes popped open. Wow didn't cover all that lovely eye candy. Hell's Bells, I'd never need to buy another Chippendales poster again.

  Mine! The possessive urge swept through me with the raging force of a swollen river. I would never let another female touch him, not ever. I'd kill before I allowed that to happen.

  He was less than a foot away from me. I raised my hand; my fingers trembled with the need to caress him.

  He reached for his sweat pants and my eyes bulged. Surely, he wasn't about to strip down to his birthday suit.

  He shook his head and I heard him softly mumbling. "Hug her. Don't care what she says I won't stop until she stops crying." He tugged on the tight waistband, trying to get them over his hips.

  “Got a problem?”

  He whipped around so fast that his legs twisted together. He fell toward me.