by Sammie Joyce
Just enjoy it for today, I told myself. Tomorrow, you can come up with an excuse to go home.
11
Vivian
Marcel fell asleep almost as soon as we had finished making love the second time but I found myself watching him long after he had closed his gorgeous eyes. Something had changed between us in the last waking hours we’d shared but I wasn’t sure I understood what it was.
I reasoned that it had been a long day and that we both needed rest but I was abnormally wired as the wee hours of the morning ticked by.
It was close to dawn before I fell asleep, my body still adjusting to working nights and when I woke, Marcel wasn’t in bed with me anymore. Oddly, the cabin was gray, as if the sun had yet to rise.
“Marcel?” I called. I could smell coffee wafting up the loft.
“I’m down here,” he replied. There was a tension in his voice that I couldn’t mistake. I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and realized I was naked. Hastily, I dug a track suit out of my overnight bag and hurried down to meet him. That’s when I saw the snow.
It must have come after I’d fallen asleep but now it raged furiously, a wind howling almost maniacally as the white pelted against the windows.
“Jesus,” I muttered, eying the storm. “Where did that come from?”
Marcel shrugged, his back to me as he pattered around the stove. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding my eyes.
“I don’t know,” he replied grimly. “The forecast wasn’t calling for snow.”
“Welcome to Oregon,” I sighed, flopping down at the kitchen table. “Where the weather changes with your breath.”
I paused when he didn’t answer and cleared my throat, sensing the tension in the room.
“Did you sleep okay?” I asked quietly. He barely glanced at me.
“Not really,” he confessed and I found myself slightly offended by his brusque response. He could have at least lied about it.
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry to hear that.”
It seemed to me that he’d slept just fine. I’d watched him, after all.
“It’s a good thing we bought out the grocery store,” I offered, wanting to lighten the dark mood that I didn’t understand.
Maybe he’s just not a morning person. He’ll be better after he gets some coffee in him.
“How do you like your eggs?”
The question caught me off guard but I took it as a good sign.
“I’m easy,” I replied but he didn’t speak as he continued to cook. I marveled at his skill, again appreciative of how much he knew how to do. He’d already started the fire again and despite the dreadful weather outside, it was bright and cheery on the main floor of the cabin.
“I guess we’re not going out for a hike,” I chuckled, rising to stare out into the blinding storm. “I was hoping to show you around the woods.”
“We might still be able to get out of here if we leave now.”
The words stung me slightly and I whirled around to look at him.
“Y-you want to leave?” I asked, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. He finally met my eyes, his face softening.
“I’m just saying that if we leave now, we probably won’t get snowed in,” he replied, his tone much gentler. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“I’m not worried,” I replied slowly. “Are you?”
Our eyes locked and any semblance of hardness seemed to melt away as we stared at one another.
“We both need to be back by Monday,” he reminded me and I laughed.
“It’s Saturday,” I told him. “We have two days to worry about getting home.”
Begrudgingly, he nodded, turning his attention back toward breakfast. The smell made me realize how hungry I was and I moved to collect plates and utensils as Marcel finished the omelets he had concocted.
“I have clients on Monday,” he continued and I tensed again, wondering if he was serious about leaving.
“I have to work on Monday too,” I replied, my tone more cutting than I intended. Marcel clamped his mouth shut and for a long minute, neither of us spoke.
“Sorry,” he said, breaking the silence in a sheepish voice. “I’m always overthinking.”
Instantly, I relaxed and put my hand on his bare upper arm, shaking my tangled dark mane.
“I get it,” I assured him. “And normally, I would be worried too but this is supposed to be our escape from reality, remember?”
He nodded and scraped the eggs onto the plates I’d laid out before placing them on the table. He poured me a cup of coffee and sat across from me at the table, his eyes still slightly shadowed.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, determined to understand where his mind was at. “Are you regretting this?”
Aghast, he began to shake his head vehemently.
“No!” he cried, his brow furrowing. “Of course not. You’re…you’re amazing, Viv. I…”
He paused and I stared at him imploringly, wanting to understand where his reservations were coming from.
“Is this about you being my therapist?”
He scowled slightly.
“I hadn’t thought about that in a while,” he grumbled and I wished I hadn’t brought it up.
“Then what?” I insisted. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed and looked to the table. I could almost see the wheels in his head turning.
“Honestly, I don’t want to get snowed in up here,” he finally said but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Shouldn’t we worry about that when it happens?” I asked logically. He nodded again but I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. I, on the other hand, couldn’t think of anything better.
Imaging being snowed in for a few extra days with the man who had swept me off my feet seemed like something out of a romance novel. It sure beat going back to St. Charlies and dealing with Chamberlain and changing bedpans. If only I could get Marcel to see the benefits of our predicament.
Suddenly, I thought of Rachel and what she’d been trying to tell me about Marcel the previous night.
Am I seeing a side of Marcel I didn’t know existed?
The thought sent a fusion of alarm and concern through my body. What did I really know about this man anyway? Sure, I was smitten but for all I knew, he could be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
As if he could read my thoughts, Marcel offered more.
“I’m just worried about my clients,” Marcel confessed and I felt a pang of admiration for him. “Some of them don’t fare well if they don’t get their scheduled appointments.”
I nodded understandingly, reaching out to cover his hand with mine.
“I get it,” I told him honestly. “And you have a right to be concerned but not until we know for sure that we’re snowed in. Shouldn’t we just enjoy our time while we have it?”
He nodded quickly and gave me a weak smile.
“You’re right,” he agreed, reaching for his fork. “Let’s eat.”
* * *
Most of the day passed without incident. Marcel and I took turns cooking and tending to each other, making me feel like we were in a real partnership, silly as it seemed. Any of the doubts I’d had earlier in the day vanished completely after he took me in his arms again and made love to me.
I could read the way he felt in his eyes and even though he was slightly quieter than he had been on Friday, I still felt connected to him.
Outside, the mountain blizzard continued and it showed no signs of letting up. By the time darkness fell, it was clear that Marcel’s concerns about being snowed in were legitimate.
“Did you want a rematch?” I asked as Marcel moved toward the window for the tenth time.
“What?”
“In chess? I think we can safely say I kicked your ass last night.”
He didn’t turn away from the window and I saw the muscles in his shoulders rippling slightly as he tried to roll his neck.
“Marc?”
“Hm?”
“Do y
ou want me to work on your shoulders?”
He glanced at me and gave me a blank look.
“I did a semester of massage therapy in nursing school,” I explained. “I’m pretty good at it—if I do say so myself.”
For a minute, he only stared at me and for an odd minute, his face went blurry. I blinked, feeling a slight burn around my eyes. Instantly, his face came back into focus.
“Marc?”
“No,” he said, twisting his head back toward the window. “No, thanks.”
I was hurt by his answer but I refused to let myself get upset. Instead, I rose and walked up behind him, placing my palms on his tense shoulders.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, wriggling out of my touch. I gaped at him.
“I’m trying to get you to relax!” I exploded, my patience expiring. He was acting so strangely, so hot and cold. I didn’t know what to do with him.
“I’m relaxed!” he yelled and I scowled.
“Staring out at the snow isn’t going to make it stop,” I told him. “Can you at least pretend to be interested in me?”
He groaned slightly and pivoted fully, his face peering down at me.
“Of course I’m interested in you,” he protested and I heard the sincerity in his words. “I-I’m just feeling…”
He paused.
“Restless?”
I sighed.
“You can’t have cabin fever already,” I insisted but the look on his face told me that I was wrong. Everything about him was itching to go outside. I’d seen this before. My father had always been the same way, wanting to go and prowl and explore.
No wonder I like Marcel so much. He reminds me of Dad.
It could have been worse. He could have reminded me of Charlie.
I shuddered slightly, wondering why my brother continued to pop into my head.
“Please just come and try to relax,” I begged him, not wanting to fight. “The minute the snow clears, we can go out and explore.”
He eyed me warily like he was contemplating whether or not to argue. In the end, he allowed me to lead him to the sofa.
“There’s a DVD player,” I offered. “And we have some movies. Want to watch something?”
He nodded even though I could tell that wasn’t anywhere on his radar of things he wanted to do.
“Sure,” he lied. Even so, I dug through the entertainment unit, pulling out what I could find.
“Seven? Saw?” I recited, tossing aside the horror flicks that only Charlie could have acquired. To my relief, Marcel began to laugh.
“Isn’t that a little cliché? Watching horror movies in a mountain cabin?” he joked and I exhaled, hearing the man I’d been falling in love with.
“Blame my brother,” I replied. “He’s dark like that.”
“You don’t have a high opinion of your brother, do you?” Marcel asked suddenly and I paused, turning on my haunches to gaze at him over the coffee table.
“What makes you say that?”
Marcel shrugged.
“Every time you bring him up, it’s in an off-handed way.”
I hadn’t realized that. In fact, I hadn’t realized I’d brought up Charlie much at all.
“He…he has some issues,” I confessed, feeling slightly disloyal at speaking the words aloud. He was still my brother, issues or not, and Marcel was still a stranger in the grand scheme of things.
“Like what?” Marcel asked. He wasn’t being nosy. He was asking questions the way a good boyfriend would.
Boyfriend. Is that what he is?
Whatever the reason, at least he wasn’t distracted by the worsening storm outside and I took the conversation shift at face value. It sure beat watching Marcel grow more and more tense.
“He was a Marine,” I explained, falling back to land on my butt, arms draping over my knees. “I guess we always knew he was headed into a military career.”
“He’s not a Marine anymore?” Marcel asked.
I replied slowly, swallowing my guilt for speaking out of school.
“He was dishonorably discharged. I’m not clear on all the details but it had something to do with the torture of detainees.”
Marcel’s eyes widened and seemed to darken.
“I see,” he murmured. “Interesting.”
I balked.
“You think so?” I retorted and Marcel shook his head.
“No, I mean it’s interesting that you chose a career that helps and he opted to hurt people. This is one of those studies for nurture over nature.”
I snorted loudly.
“I’m a woman, he’s a man. My father always instilled the importance of men being hunters and women being housewives. I think that has a lot to do with it.”
Compassion sparked in Marcel’s eyes and he leaned forward to cross his hands over his own knees, meeting my eyes squarely.
“You’re no one’s housewife,” he reminded me. “You went out and got a career. You were raised with the same values by the same parents. The difference is, you chose to do good in this world while it sounds like your brother chose the opposite route.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t ever thought of it like that and a swell of appreciation shot through my heart as I met Marcel’s steadfast stare.
“I guess,” I mumbled. “But I also think that Charlie had other demons with which to contend.”
As if someone had dropped a mask over his face, Marcel’s expression went from kind to unreadable.
“What?” I demanded, not understanding his shift in demeanor.
“Your…” he paused and inhaled. “Your brother’s name is Charlie?”
I shrugged and nodded, sure that I’d mentioned that before.
“Yes,” I replied. “Do you know him?”
Marcel’s jaw twitched and I could tell he was grinding his teeth together behind his pursed lips.
“Marcel? You know my brother?”
“No,” he spat. “But his reputation precedes him.”
12
Marcel
The desire to need to leave the cabin had come on almost gradually. It had probably started as I stared up at the sky on Friday night, the nearness of the full moon tugging at me. The magic was strong up there on Mount Bachelor, much stronger than it had ever been in Bend.
I could feel the tug of my pack calling to me, through the blistering snow, out throughout the night and my dreams had been plagued with images of shifters being attacked by Anticlaw.
I tried to fight it, the urge to shift as the stress grew on me but the invisible force seemed to be overtaking me, despite the fact I was truly loving every minute I was spending with Vivian.
There had been moments of clarity, moments where I embraced the time I had in Vivian’s arms, her scent warding off the inevitable desire to morph into my animalistic sense.
Something had been warning me, telling me that I needed to get out of there. My subconscious and my deeply honed sixth sense knew what I couldn’t plainly see in front of my face.
How had I not seen it? How could I not have realized that Vivian was related to my nemesis, a man who would kill us all off if he had the chance?
Charlie. I knew who Charlie was now and how to find him.
But would I, knowing who he was to my lover?
Of course Vivian didn’t understand the one hundred eighty-degree shift in personality. If her soft, loving words had brought me back from the brink before, they were doing nothing to placate me now and I paced around the cabin, my inner beast ready to spring.
You can’t. You can’t let her see you this way.
It was the only advantage I could think of—she still had no idea that I was a shifter.
I tried to reason with myself that maybe she didn’t know what her brother was doing or who he was but I couldn’t lie. I knew that Vivian knew and the fact that she condoned his actions made me sick to my stomach.
This is why humans and shifters need to keep their distance! That hideous voice shout
ed gleefully at me. That’ll teach you to mingle where don’t belong.
There was going to be hell to pay for this, from the Council, from the Protectors but mostly from myself. I would never again trust my own judgement as long as I lived.
“Marcel, you’re making me seasick!” Vivian snapped after an hour. We’d barely exchanged a word since she’d told me who her brother was. “Please stop pacing.”
I whirled around and stared at her, a million things threatening to spring from my lips but somehow, I managed to keep them all in place. Instead, I clamped my mouth closed and moved back toward the window.
“Marcel, are you going to talk to me?”
I could hear the heaviness in her tone but what could I say?
“What have you heard about Charlie?” she asked quietly. My spine was so tense, I was sure it would snap. Merely hearing his name was enough to bring me to the brink of shifting.
“I’m sure you already know,” I said dully, refusing to meet her eyes. I had a terrible sense of foreboding, one that told me that before the night was done, she would see the side of me that I had hoped to keep hidden.
But if she keeps pushing me, I’ll have no choice, I thought, grinding my teeth. My fangs were almost fully elongated.
“Charlie had his problems,” Vivian mumbled. “But they don’t have to be ours.”
I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her statement but it wasn’t fair. She couldn’t know I had no right to mock her.
Maybe she doesn’t share his views after all. It’s like you said before, she’s a healer and he’s a killer.
But did it really matter? Regardless of how she felt, she knew what her brother was and did nothing to stop it.
“Will you please just come and sit down? I can make us something to eat if you’re hungry.”
There was a placating note in her tone but I refused to succumb to it. Every second that passed made me more antsy.
“Please, Marc?”
I ignored her folding my arms over my chest. As I stared into the night, my heart skipped a beat. The storm was letting up finally.
“Marcel!”
The sharpness of her tone made me turn and I met her gaze finally.
