Guess what I have for you all today? The first two chapters of The Soul's Mark: CHANGED! Yup, you read that right, today I'm sharing the first TWO chapters of the final book in The Soul's Mark Series.
Hope you all enjoy them. :)
CHAPTER 1
Mitchell had a cold. He was coughing. His nose was running, and he was driving Amelia crazy with that stupid bell. The bell was something Eric had seen on TV and he’d thought it would be funny to give one to Mitchell. It wasn’t.
For most people, a cold was just that … a
cold, but for Mitchell, well, he hadn’t been sick in more than eight-hundred
years, and with the way he was carrying on about it, if Amelia didn’t know any
better, she would have thought he was dying.
He’d only been human for two weeks now, and it had been the longest two weeks
of her life.
Amelia was pleased that life in Willowberg
had returned to normal—quiet and uneventful.
To her relief, and utter astonishment, Eric had stepped up, and with
Megan’s help, he’d taken over most of Mitchell’s day-to-day town running stuff,
whatever that was—Amelia still really wasn’t entirely sure. But Eric was actually good at it. Things were running smoothly, and for the
first time in, well, since Amelia had arrived in Willowberg, there were no
disasters to deal with. But most importantly,
so far, they’d managed to keep Mitchell’s … condition, and Amelia’s change, a
secret.
But the problem with keeping it a secret was
that Amelia couldn’t leave the house.
And not leaving the house meant being stuck twenty-four hours a day with
a whiny, eight-hundred year old man with a cold.
Sunlight streamed through the French doors,
making the marble floor glimmer where it touched. It danced off of the weathered black cabinets
and granite countertops, coating the kitchen in a warm glow. The cherry wood island was littered with
newspapers, and unopened mail was piling up in a toppled stack off to the
side. On the top of the pile, Amelia
spotted the electricity bill. Her brow
knitted together and a pang in her heart made her swallow hard. The mail, the bills, all of it had been Mabel’s
responsibility.
Amelia stared at the stack for a long
moment and sighed. God, she missed
Mabel. She squeezed her eyes shut for a
brief moment, remembering Mabel’s bright, motherly smile and her warm
embrace. The memory helped a little and
when she glanced back at the stack, she made a mental note to go through the
mail, and talk to Mitchell about paying the bills.
Amelia picked up the ladle and gave the
chicken noodle soup a quick stir as it simmered on the gleaming stainless steel
stove. She sucked in a deep breath. She’d always liked the smell of soup before,
but now, with her new senses, it was fantastic.
The salt. The chicken. Even the noodles had their own smell and mixed
together, it was delightful.
The soft chime of Mitchell’s bell sounded,
followed by a painful, hacking cough. “Millie,”
Lola hollered. “I’m going to kill him if
you don’t make that bell stop!”
Amelia choked on a strangled laugh. Lola. Their
new relationship still seemed weird. Weird
and exciting. As far as makers went,
Amelia guessed she couldn’t have asked for anyone better, but it was still
Lola. Grumpy. She had little tolerance for anything, and
Mitchell was no exception, especially now that he really couldn’t do anything
to her. In all honesty, Amelia thought
that their family was giving Mitchell a hard time just because they could now.
“I’m on it,” Amelia yelled back. She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and
ladled out the steaming chicken noodle soup.
Setting the bowl on the tray, she snagged a spoon from the drawer, and
then turned off the burner.
The bell sounded again and she
grinned. Who would have thought it would
be her taking care of Mitchell? Amelia
surely hadn’t. But she had to admit,
even though he was driving her batty, she loved every minute of it. She picked up the tray, and made her way
through the house to their bedroom.
As she wove through the crisp white
hallways of their massive house, Amelia noticed that the rich wood floors were
starting to look a touch dimmer than usual.
Every surface she passed held a thin layer of dust and the windows were looking
a bit grimy. Amelia had really tried to
stay on top of the housework over the last two weeks, but by the time she got
from one end of the house to the other, it was as if where she’d started had
never been touched. She didn’t have a
clue how Mabel had done it all, and Amelia was starting to think it would take
an entire army to come close to keeping up with everything that Mabel had done.
Amelia sucked in a deep breath and swallowed
down the pulsing ache in her throat that always seemed to appear when she
thought about Mabel. When she was
certain that she wasn’t going to burst into tears, she pushed open the door to
her bedroom, juggling the tray in one hand.
“How are you feeling, Mitch?” she asked, giving him what she hoped was a
bright smile, but it felt a bit forced and stiff. She kicked the door shut with her heel and
padded over to him, climbing the steps of the raised landing to the bed.
Mitchell looked up at her and croaked, “I’m
dying, love. How do you think I’m
feeling?” His nose was all chapped and
cherry red, and his eyes, puffy and watery.
He was curled up in their bed, with the bold blue comforter pulled up to
his chin so only his face was visible, and he had a box of tissues beside him.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a cold,” Amelia said with a laugh as
she perched on the edge of the bed, setting the tray on the nightstand beside
him. He shot her what she thought was
meant to be a dirty look, but it was ruined by a sneeze, and she laughed again.
“I made you some soup.”
“My voice hurts,” he whined and sniffled. He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose loudly.
Amelia tried to forge her face into a
serious expression, but it didn’t work.
She giggled. “Mitch, I don’t
really think that’s possible.”
“You know what I mean,” he said and groaned,
and then he gave her the saddest puppy dog look she had ever seen. “Amelia, love, can’t you do some witchy thing
and make this go away?”
“Oh, honey,” she said, trying to stifle another
laugh. She failed miserably. “Suffering strengthens the soul.”
He arched an eyebrow at her, and Amelia
wasn’t sure if the look he was giving her was disbelief or amazement. “You can, can’t you?” he said finally, after
a long moment of silence. “Is this
payback for something?” Disbelief it
was, then.
Amelia smirked. “Now what in the world would I want to pay
you back for?”
Mitchell frowned. Even without the bond, she could guess what
he was thinking. It was written clearly in
each one of the crinkled lines that were indenting his forehead. The truth was she had tons of reasons to want
payback. Because of Mitchell, she had
cursed all vampires, created vampire hunters, lost her parents, almost died—twice,
killed someone, and now, she was a vampire.
He had literally turned her world upside down. And that wasn’t even counting when he had
taken away her free will without so much as telling her he was real and not
just a figment of her imagination, or the lying and manipulating he had done to
get her to Willowberg in the first place.
But he had also shown her what it was like
to love and be loved, needed, and wanted.
He had given her a new family.
Shown her a new world. And
brought her back to the world she had always been meant for. He had given her a new start, a new life, one
that she wouldn’t trade for anything. Mitchell
may have been a big jerk sometimes, but he was her big jerk, and she loved him
(and sometimes hated him) for it. If she
knew how to fix him, she would have in a second.
Again, she found herself wishing that the
movies about vampires were real. So many
of them portrayed vampires to have healing properties in their blood, and they
did—kind of. Vampire blood could heal
during the changing process, but that didn’t help them. Mother Nature, Amelia’s mother, had made it
abundantly clear that Mitchell wouldn’t survive the change again—yet. His body needed time to adjust and strengthen,
before it could handle another shock like that.
Amelia rested her hand on his forehead,
brushing back his sweaty curls. “You’re
burning up,” she said, feeling his cheek and neck with the back of her hand.
“It’s probably just your heightened
senses,” he said, pushing her hand away.
She furrowed her brow, searching his chiseled
face and taking in a deep breath, looking for the telltale signs of a lie. This was the eighth day he’d been sick and
each day he only seemed to be getting worse.
It was also the first day that she’d felt any sign of a fever on his
clammy skin, and she was certain that the sour odor that was coming from him was
infection.
He sat up and reached for the bowl of
soup. After slurping a big mouthful, he
said hastily, “Stop worrying. It’s just
a cold.”
“Just a minute ago you said you were dying
and now it’s just a cold?” Amelia glared
at him long and hard. His heartbeat
picked up, she could hear it thrumming rapidly in his chest and his breathing
became strained, too quick, and too shallow.
“What are you hiding, Mitch?”
Mitchell slurped another large
spoonful. “I’m not hiding anything. I promise.
It’s like you said, suffering strengthens the soul so I’m sucking it
up.”
“Good,” Amelia said and smiled, although
she wasn’t really convinced. She was
pretty sure that he needed a doctor. She
could smell the sour stench of infection on his skin and on his breath.
She watched him silently as he finished his
soup. She could see that he was
struggling, his hand trembled with every spoonful he brought to his lips, and
she didn’t know what to do for him. If
they took him to a doctor, they’d risk exposing his secret, and if they didn’t,
he could get worse. If he hadn’t been a
vampire for eight-hundred years, she wouldn’t have worried, but she couldn’t
help but wonder what that could have done to his immune system. She fiddled with the blankets, tucking them
around his legs and fluffed the cushions, trying to hide her building concern.
“How’s everyone coping?” he asked after he
swallowed the last bit of soup. He
reached over to the nightstand and set the bowl down. “I feel like I haven’t seen them in days.”
Amelia looked away from him, unable to meet
his eyes. It was true. He hadn’t seen most of them in days. The truth was their family was avoiding him
as much as they could. Seeing him so
fragile was hard on all of them. Amelia
had never really realized how much of a role Mitchell played in keeping them
all together. She’d always been so
caught up in fighting with him that she hadn’t noticed he was the glue to their
little family. And without him being
well, they were slowly falling apart.
She sighed.
“They’re good I think. Eric and
Megan have been pretty busy repairing the damage the hunters left behind. Ty hasn’t been around much. He’s been staying at his apartment more.”
Mitchell took her chin in his hand and tilted
it up so she had to look at him. He was
quiet for a long moment, his expression hardening as he searched her face, and
for that moment, he almost looked like himself again—almost. If it wasn’t for that speck of guarded
weakness in his eyes …
“I thought he was okay with what happened,”
he said, his tone tight and tinged with doubt.
Tyler had never been okay with the whole
drinking blood thing; Amelia knew that. But
she had really thought he would have been able to get over Angelle’s attack on
him when she’d lost her soul. And for a
day or two, he’d been okay. They had
been close. Really close. They hadn’t left each other’s side, but then,
seemingly overnight, things had changed.
Amelia almost wished they would argue it out, but they didn’t. Instead, they just ignored each other. Drifting apart.
“I thought so, too. He was, but I don’t know …” She sighed, a
gusty sound. Mitchell dropped his hand
from her chin, and clasped her hand, running his thumb along her palm in
soothing circles. “He’s been pretty
distant the last few days. Honestly, I
think something else is bothering him, but he won’t talk to me about it.” And then, wanting to brighten the subject,
she grinned and said, “But on the plus side, Erin is doing great. She has a date tonight.”
Out of everyone, Erin was the one person
that Amelia worried about the most.
Losing a soulmate to the final death couldn’t have been easy, not even one
as vile as Tristan. But Erin … Erin was
okay. Amelia figured she had accepted
losing him long before he died, most likely when Amelia had destroyed the bond
between them.
“With who?” Mitchell asked, although it
came out more like a demand. She guessed
some things would never change. Even as
a human, Mitchell was still overly protective of his family and after all, Erin
was one of his vampire children, or she had been until he had become human.
Amelia smirked; she couldn’t help it. She knew it didn’t matter who it was with,
Mitchell would find something wrong with the poor guy. “With Drew.”
Mitchell groaned long and loud and then he
shocked her. “I guess it could be
worse.”
Was that an approval? Amelia wasn’t completely sure. “Drew isn’t so bad. He’s better than Tristan, that’s for
sure.” Even though she said it, the
statement lacked conviction. Tristan
might have been psychotic and he may have tried to kill them all (Erin included)
a few times, but in the end, he had still been Erin’s soulmate, and she had
loved him, whether she had wanted to or not.
Mitchell opened his mouth to say something
but then closed it. He scrubbed at his
face roughly before looking back up at her, his sky-blue eyes taking her breath
away. “Amelia, I want the bond,” he
whispered. “I miss you. Even with you sitting here, I feel like we
are worlds apart.”
Amelia held his stare. Her gums throbbed, and everything in her told
her to just give in. She wanted to give
in. She wanted to taste him, and to
claim him. It was ingrained in her
blood. The vampire inside her wanted
nothing more than to see her name scrawled across his neck and to have the
bond, and him, at her beck and call. And
it was that very reason why she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give into the need.
“I can’t, Mitch,” she whispered, dropping
her eyes. “I won’t do that to you.”
Suddenly, the door flew open, cracking
against the wall. “Mitchell,” Lola
hissed. Her eyes were blazing crimson
and everything about the way she stood in the doorway screamed fury. “She’s not ready for that and if you keep it
up, I’ll keep her away from you.” Her
nostrils flared then, and her complexion turned paper white. She focused on him with wide, scared eyes and
breathed, “You smell like death.”
CHAPTER 2
Lola flew across the room in a heartbeat, and suddenly, she was beside Mitchell. She ripped the covers off of him and tossed an overabundance of cushions to the floor. Amelia sat rigid on the edge of the bed, watching her cautiously, as Lola scanned him from head to toe. She ran her hand along his forehead and cheek, as Mitchell half-heartedly swatted at her, grumbling something completely incomprehensible.
Mitchell started coughing, violently. His shoulders shook, and his chest
heaved. Amelia shoved Lola aside and
quickly reached behind him, pulling him up to a sitting position, and rubbing
his back until the coughing eased up.
“How long has he smelled like this?” Lola
growled, glaring at Amelia with barely hidden rage.
Amelia trembled slightly, completely
involuntarily, and before she could stop herself, she hopped off the bed,
putting some distance in between them. She
had never seen Lola this mad before. Everything
about her, from her tight and thin lips, to her flexed and twitching muscles,
and her crouched, ready stance screamed fury and attack. Amelia opened her mouth to answer, but when
nothing came out, she snapped it shut again.
“How long, Amelia?” Lola yelled, balling
her fists at her sides.
Amelia cleared her throat, trying to
dislodge the plum-sized lump that had formed, and whispered, “Just today.” She didn’t mean to whisper, but her throat kept
closing up under Lola’s completely disappointed and extremely furious glare. She felt like a little kid who had been
caught stealing.
“Lola, stop yelling at her,” Mitchell said
calmly, with more than a little annoyance in his raspy voice. “I’m fine.”
It was a lie. Amelia could smell it and she could hear
it. His heart hammered and a different
kind of sweat began to bead along the base of his neck. She followed his gaze, noticing that it was focused
on Lola’s chin. He couldn’t even look her
in the eyes and say it.
Amelia’s stomach twisted and her gums
throbbed. If she did it, just gave in
and bit him, she wouldn’t have to guess.
He’d be an open book. She’d know
everything. She’d be able to see how bad
this cold was. She’d be able to feel how
much pain he was in, and he’d have access to her magic again. It could sooth him. It could help him. And you
could hurt him, her conscious reminded her.
Remember the burning pain the bond
had caused. Remember the hatred it
created between you. Remember. Remember.
Lola shifted her glare to him. “You’re not fine and you damn well know it.” Then she turned to Amelia and paced towards
her. Her little floral summer dress
brushed at her knees as she moved. She
should have looked sweet with her blond pixie style hair cut, and soft
features, but right then, she didn’t. “Why
didn’t you say anything?” she demanded.
A pinprick of red flared in the center of her eyes again. “You can’t keep this stuff a secret, Amelia!”
“I thought it was just the cold,” Amelia
said, taking a large step back. “I only
noticed it a few minutes ago. I was
going to tell you.” And she was. She really was going to tell them. He needed a doctor. She’d already figured that out, she just
hadn’t figured out how to get him to one.
“You should have gotten me immediately,”
Lola snapped. “Don’t you get how serious
this is? He hasn’t had a disease in over
eight-hundred years. How do you think
his body will handle it?”
Amelia blinked. What was she supposed to say? If Lola was so bloody worried then why hadn’t
she been to see Mitchell in four days?
Or was it five? Amelia was the
only one trying to take care of him, and really, in her defense, it wasn’t an
easy task. All she wanted to do was bite
him. It was as if they had all forgotten
what it was like to be a vampire living with a human soulmate. She had to be careful with everything she did
around him. Between her magic and her
new strength and the constant, relentless urge to bite him … well, it was hard
to cope, and none of them were helping.
“Lola, that’s enough,” Mitchell said,
through another round of hacking coughs.
His face was flushed and glistened with a sheet of sweat from the
fever. He clutched at his chest with one
hand, rubbing it as the coughing eased, and gestured with the other for Amelia
to come to him, but she didn’t. Her
fangs were starting to poke through her gums, just a little, and right then,
she didn’t want to get too close.
“Mitchell, she’s my child so back the hell
off,” Lola snarled, shooting him a dirty look over her shoulder. Lola was vibrating, her arms shaking and her
fists clenched. Her eyes washed red, and
her fangs snapped down.
Amelia saw it happen as if it was in slow
motion, although she knew that it was only her vampire senses kicking in. Mitchell tumbled out of bed, and planted
himself nose to nose with Lola. Lola
raised a hand, most likely to push him back in bed; she even touched his
shoulder, and it was that touch that made Amelia lose it. No one
touched her soulmate! Not even Lola.
Amelia’s fangs slid into place, a scarlet
haze clouded her vision, and she lunged at Lola. Magic surged through her veins, steaming and
sparking, mixing with her vampiric powers.
Flares of crimson light shot from her in every direction, exploding in
uncontrolled bursts from her skin.
Lola noticed Amelia a second too late. Her eyes widened and Amelia caught the scent
of fear washing off Lola, thick as smoke.
She grabbed Lola’s hand, wrenching it off Mitchell’s shoulder, and as
she did, she sent out a blast of magic from the palm of her hand, searing
Lola’s skin.
Lola screamed and yanked her charred arm
out of Amelia’s grasp, cradling it to her chest. Her eyes went vacant for a moment. She was calling Luke; Amelia was sure of it,
but frankly, she didn’t care. She
glanced at Mitchell, making sure he was okay.
He held her gaze for a long moment before he said, “Amelia, you need to calm
down.”
Amelia ignored him and focused her blazing
gaze on Lola. “Don’t you ever touch him
again,” she hissed, her tone was acidic.
She felt like a coiled snake, her muscles jumping under her skin,
tightening and loosening, just ready to attack.
An arm wove around her waist then, and Mitchell’s fever-hot chest
pressed against her back.
“Amelia,” he breathed against her cheek. His hot breath puffed against her face, and
tickled the fine hairs on her skin, soothingly.
He didn’t say anything else. Just
her name. His velvety voice surrounded her
and his touch comforted her, like a fleece blanket on a cold winter night. She closed her eyes and leaned into him,
letting the feel of his skin pressed against hers envelope her body in a steady
stream of sparks. Her skin tingled, and her
raging emotions began to calm.
“I would never hurt him, Amelia,” Lola said. Reluctantly, Amelia opened her eyes and let
her fangs fold back into her gums. The
last of her magic sputtered away and Lola took a few steps, closing the
distance between them and caressed Amelia’s cheek, her eyes imploring Amelia to
believe her. “You know that.”
“Hey, kiddo,” Luke’s booming voice drew Amelia’s
attention. “I hear you’ve tried to burn
my soulmate again.”
Luke was smiling, and his quizzical hazel
eyes held humor. He walked into the bedroom,
and took a seat in one of the marshmallowy brown leather chairs. He was in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, and
he looked completely at ease as he stretched his long legs out in front of him,
crossing them at the ankles. He looked
the three of them over, all standing together, Mitchell at Amelia’s back, Lola
at her front, and he frowned for a second, but it didn’t last.
Suddenly, Amelia felt sick. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, casting her
eyes to the floor. Luke had always been
on her side. No matter how childish she
acted, or how mean she was, he stood behind her. He believed in her when no one else (not even
Mitchell) had.
Dammit! She needed to get it
together. Ever since she had become a
vampire, she was like a smoldering fire that was just waiting to blow up when
the littlest bit of fuel was added. She
missed the clean white magic she’d had as a witch, and she loathed the flaming
crimson light it had turned into. She
didn’t know how to keep her vampiric powers separate from her magic, and when
they mixed, it was explosive. She wished
she knew how Mitchell had handled the magic when he’d used it through the bond,
but in all honesty, she was too freaked out to ask him. Too worried that he would think she was
weak. And her being weak was the last
thing he needed to worry about.
“Again?” Mitchell asked, tightening his arm
around Amelia’s waist. “Dammit, Lola!”
he shouted, and then started hacking again.
Amelia turned in his arms, and pulled his arm around her shoulder,
helping to support him as he coughed, a painfully wet sound. She helped him back over to the bed, and when
he was settled, she tucked the covers around him and handed him a glass of
water.
Mitchell drank it greedily, finishing half
the glass before he pulled it away from his lips. Amelia stood over him, wringing her hands
nervously. She gathered a morsel of her
magic, pushing it out towards him, picturing soothing waterfalls and birds
chirping, and he smiled at her, a silent thank you, before he turned his
attention back to Lola. “This is why she
needs the bond. She needs help dealing
with the magic.” His voice was hoarse
and his expression strained.
“You’ve never helped her,” Lola said,
exasperated. “It’s always you that
pushes her over the edge.” She glided
over to Luke, curling herself up on his lap.
“And it’s always Mitchell that brings her
back,” Luke said sternly, looking down at Lola with hard eyes before shifting
his focus back to Mitchell. “Do you
think you can help her with it?”
Amelia didn’t give Mitchell time to
answer. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m
not doing it,” she said, spinning around to glare at Luke and Lola.
Mitchell swatted at her as if to tell her
to keep quiet. “I can help,” he
said. “I’ve done it before when the
power was too much for her and I can do it now.”
Luke seemed to be considering it. His intense gaze raked over Mitchell and Amelia
sighed long and loud, but they ignored her.
She guessed this was another one of those things that would never
change. They had rarely listened to her
before, why had she expected them to start now?
She stood there for a few moments listening to them discuss whether or
not she should bite Mitchell and solidify the bond. Luke listened to all of Mitchell’s ridiculous
reasons, such as he missed her, and he thought that he could help her with her
magic. It was all the same things that
he’d said to her, over and over and over.
She tried a few times to interrupt and tell
them it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t
going to put Mitchell through that kind of pain and they knew damn well that if
he hadn’t been able to control the bond, there was no way she’d be able to do
it. But they ignored her, and when Mitchell
shushed her, she sighed, a frustrated
sigh. They went on discussing Mitchell’s
health, and which doctor—if any—they could trust him with, which in Amelia’s
opinion was retarded. He needed a doctor. They could all smell it. At this point, did his secret really
matter? But Mitchell was pushing back,
saying he didn’t need, or want, to see someone.
Amelia gritted her teeth and listened to
them argue back and forth on what to do with him. And she was ready to start pulling out her
hair in frustration when an idea dawned on her.
She felt the start of a smile twitch at her lips. I can
fix him. Right then, she was certain
of it.
None of them noticed when Amelia grabbed
her iPhone from the nightstand, and walked out of the room.
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