The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3)

The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3) Page 27

Amelia wiggled around on her bed, trying to get comfortable. She glanced at the clock again, 7:56, and she sighed. She had been sitting there for just over two hours and still hadn’t made an ounce of progress. Wasn’t lotus supposed to be relaxing? Clearly not, because her legs were tingling and starting to fall asleep.

There was a soft tap at the door before it slid open, and Megan popped her head into the room. For a second, Amelia was overwhelmingly glad for the disruption, at least she was until the rest of Megan came through the door, and then Amelia’s stomach dropped. Megan looked tired, really tired, and her skin had taken on a grayish tone. She had changed, Amelia noticed, and right now, she looked like she was being swallowed up by one of Eric’s gray tracksuits. The hoodie was long enough to be a dress, falling below her knees, and she had the baggy pants rolled up to the ankles so she wouldn’t trip. Megan hugged her arms around her stomach, pulling the fabric closer to her skin, and she tucked in her chin, burying her nose in the neck of the sweater.

Tyler snuck in behind her, shutting the door tightly, and then padded over to Amelia and plopped down on the bed. He laid back, draping his arm over his eyes, and then let out a long, gusty sigh.

“What do you want us to do?” Megan asked, her voice muffled in the folds of material. She walked over to one of the big marshmallowy leather chairs and collapsed in it, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Amelia glanced out the window, trying to come up with something that was remotely productive. The inky sky was clear, dotted with sparkling stars.

You want to talk about the fair? About Mitchell? The note? Megan asked, after a moment’s silence. The sudden intrusion in her brain made her jump. Tyler groaned, and then rolled over, snoring softly.

Amelia sighed, untangled her legs, and eased herself off the bed, trying not to wake him. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, switching to spoken words, wanting to say it out loud, as if hearing it with her own ears would ease the doubts that had been sprouting up like wild flowers. She made her way over to Megan, curling up across from her in the chair.

“Millie, he let you go,” Megan whispered, as if she wasn’t entirely sure that it was the truth.

Amelia didn’t respond right away. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Yes, Mitchell had let her go, but why? Why did he tell her to run? She wanted to think it was because a small part of him still cared, but the bigger part of her thought he wanted to hunt her, and she had made it too easy for him.

“He also bit me.” The bitterness Amelia caught in her voice sent shivers over her skin and made the hair on her arms stand up with goose bumps.

“But he stopped?” Megan said, as if it was a question, and Amelia figured it probably was, but she couldn’t say for sure if Mitchell had in fact stopped, or if she had stopped him. She knew she had thought about using magic, but if she had actually used it, she didn’t know.

When Amelia didn’t answer, Megan went on and said, “I don’t blame you for kissing Josh.” She locked sad and tired eyes with Amelia. “I went down to see Eric after you fed him.” The shame was audible in her timbre, but it was unnecessary. Megan was playing it safe, making sure there was less temptation for both of them, and honestly, Amelia wished she had her strength. She had caved to Mitchell the moment she laid eyes on him. “He remembers the bond, you know. He remembers what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“Megan, you need to stay away from him. He’s messing with your head.” She tried to sound like she knew what she was talking about, but all her words did was add more doubt in both of their minds.

“I don’t think he is, Millie,” she said, befuddled, and she paused for thought. “It’s not like breaking the bond wiped out their memories of us. It’s as if it just flipped a switch to their emotions, as if they were turned off. But he remembers. And he’s confused. He doesn’t understand why he would have ever cared about me. It’s like he can’t understand what that feeling means.”

Amelia wanted to tell her about the confusion she had seen in Mitchell’s eyes and about what Luke had said. She wanted to agree. She desperately wanted to believe it all, but she couldn’t form the words. She didn’t want to raise their hopes, because the reality was, even though they were confused now, it may not last. She knew better than anyone did that when something doesn’t make sense for long enough, people tend to push it aside, forget about it, or begin to hate that very same thing that they had been trying to find an answer for.

It was Megan’s deep, wispy breathing that pulled Amelia away from her thoughts. She sighed and then got up, snagged a throw off of her bed and draped it over Megan, before climbing back on her bed, careful not to wake Tyler who was sound asleep on her bed, and twisted her legs back into lotus.

That night, Amelia dreamed.

The air was silky and fresh and warm. A soft spring breeze brushed through her hair, fanning out her curls like coiled streamers. Amelia looked out over a meadow of lush green grass and glowing daisies. Waiting. Waiting for what, she didn’t know. But she knew she was waiting. Expectantly. Longingly. Her heart throbbed and her skin tingled as she scanned the golden soaked horizon.

In the distance, a figure stepped out from the trees. Amelia raised her hand, shielding her eyes from the winking sun, and her heart took off like a bird startled from its nest. The figure waved an excited, big wave and began to run to her, bounding through the field of flowers.

As it neared, she couldn’t hold back; she grabbed her dress, pulling it above her ankles, and she ran as fast as she could.

It was exhilarating. Her heart sang, and her legs carried her as if she was floating on a cloud. And she couldn’t have stopped her legs even if she had wanted to. It was as if there was a force, a powerful and blissfully wonderful force, which kept her moving.

Amelia took the last step, leaping into the outstretched arms, mesmerized by the warm, sky-blue eyes that smiled at her.

And then the arms disappeared, and she was standing in the meadow alone.

A bright white light flourished the size of a firefly in front of her, and a soft voice filled her ears, “Look into your heart, child, and you will know what to do.”

And then everything dimmed, and the voice was lost as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 23

Mitchell stood in the shadows, peering through the French doors. He knew he shouldn’t be there, watching her sleep, but he couldn’t get himself to do what he had come to do. She looked so … peaceful. At one time, he swore he had felt that peacefulness, too, but no matter how long he watched, he couldn’t summon it, and he desperately longed to feel it again. And watching her sleep, curled up on the enormous bed surrounded by a rainbow of cushions … he just couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.

She was beyond perfect.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a movement, and reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from Amelia, shifting it to the other side of the bed. Tyler, a voice in his head growled. He was sprawled out beside her, and rolling closer.

Mitchell ground his teeth and fury enveloped him, blazing like a fire, licking up his throat. What was she doing? Earlier she had been practically drooling over a hunter and now … She’s mine!

The burn in his throat was becoming painful. A blistering pain that he knew only blood would fix. And yet, he stayed to watch, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the slight smile on her lips, even if the sight of another man in his bed with his woman was torture.

Mitchell hadn’t expected this to be so easy. He had figured that Amelia would have spelled the block by now, and they wouldn’t have been able to even get to the house. But she hadn’t. She had found his note. That had been the first thing he had checked. Knowing that she had found it, and still had done nothing, made him a bit uneasy. He was pretty sure that the thirty or so hunters that they had found weren’t Amelia’s only line of defense. She was smarter than that. He couldn’t imagine that she would just go to sleep with only a thin window between herself and the world, but that’s exactly what it looked like.

“Mitch, if those hybrids see you here, you’re as good as dead,” Lola whispered. She moved with graceful caution to his side, her eyes darting back and forth, watching for any sign of trouble. “We saved one for you. You need to eat.”

“I know,” Mitchell sighed. His reluctance to go and eat was disturbing. He still couldn’t understand why he had let the witch go. Why had he told her to run? She was his. It was a thought, no; it was knowledge, something he had known since the beginning of time. She was his to have. But he had let her go, and now he was withholding food.

He looked back at Amelia, searching for an answer. I should be happy to be free of the bond, he scolded himself. But in all honestly, he wasn’t. He missed her voice, her thoughts, and the swarm of commotion within her brain. He missed the bond. He missed her touch. And it was infuriating. He didn’t understand why he missed her. It made no sense. He was a vampire, a soulless demon. He shouldn’t care, but the emptiness he felt as he watched her was consuming. It grew within him like a gaping hole, the loose dirt around its edges crumbling and falling away.

“Aren’t you going to get her?” she asked, following his gaze. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mitchell said, looking back at Amelia, hypnotized for a moment by the slight rise and fall of her chest. “But this is too easy. We’re missing something.” He scanned the French doors again with a critical eye, but still, he saw nothing. And for about the millionth time that day, he missed the bond. He missed seeing the glow of her magic that winked and shimmered like crystals in the sunlight, and he craved the feeling of the pulsing warmth it emitted.

He heard Lola’s soft, but sharp, intake of breath, and he knew what she was noticing before she even asked the question. “Why’s Angelle’s pet in bed with her?”

Mitchell took a deep breath, forging his voice to sound calm and uncaring. He ignored the question and said in an icy tone, “The other Caldwell witch is in their as well,” and he pointed to the chair where Megan was curled up.