Chasing Shadows(20)

I looked at Mark then. “You know, your sister is right about one thing,” I said.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You are being unbelievably rational about all of this. I was planning to tell you the truth about me, about what you are, when I felt the time was right because I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us. To be honest, I was expecting to have a hard time convincing you,” I explained. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, that you’d think I was crazy.”

“That’s what Mom and I were afraid of,” Juliette put in, “that you weren’t going to believe us. Of course, simply showing you what we can do would have done the trick, but then there was always the chance that you’d freak and try to kill us. You are a Marine, and Marines are trained in the dark art of killing, as you so kindly pointed out before.”

Mark sighed and put the fork he had just raised back down on his plate. “It is all very incredible, the kind of stuff that probably would make the average person think you were f*ckin’ crazy—pardon my bad English—or think that he himself was going crazy. And I can’t say that if it weren’t for the fact that I already knew I wasn’t normal I’d be having as easy a time of it.

“But I did already know I’m not normal. Never getting sick wasn’t so much an indicator as breaking my arm and having it heal perfectly within an hour. Or cutting myself numerous times and having them heal almost instantly. Or my surviving having shrapnel from an IED slice through a vein that should have bled me dry and dead in minutes. I dunno, maybe my Wolverine Syndrome is the real reason I joined the Marines—maybe I was purposely pushing the envelope, seeing just how far I could go.”

He paused and looked between us. “I had some unexplainable feelings yesterday when I met Saphrona, feelings that made me more determined to get to know her than I’ve ever wanted to get to know any other woman. I got trampled by a horse this afternoon and now you can’t even tell he touched me. Then there’s the fact that I saw my little sister turn into a dog—twice. Even a thick-skulled jarhead like me can’t deny the truth when it’s as plain as the nose on his face.”

Juliette looked a little incredulous. “You actually felt the pair-bond before you guys…you know?”

“I must have,” he replied. “I just knew the moment I set eyes on her that I had to do whatever it took to make her mine. I knew I would wait for however long it took to convince her to be with me.”

Mark took my hand as he said the last part, the look in his eyes warm and full of emotion. I smiled and allowed all my feelings for him to fill my own expression, and for just a moment I was mildly disappointed that Juliette was sitting there. The late husband I had gotten emotional over earlier may have made the table we were eating on, but I didn’t think Arthur would mind too much my making love on it with another man—I had known him long enough to know that he would have wanted me to be happy, to find love again.

Besides, I thought bemusedly, Arthur and I had already christened it.

“Why does that surprise you?” Mark was saying, bringing my attention back to the conversation at hand.

Juliette shrugged. “I know you’re a dhunphyr and all, but I figured that except for the healing factor and possible immortality you were just as human as any other. When a shifter imprints, the human doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, only we do.”

“Do shifters imprint on other shifters?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, but it hasn’t happened in a very long time; we don’t know why, really, and it’s been over three hundred years since the last time it did,” she said. “We don’t imprint on vampires, either. We used to think it was because they really were dead. Saphrona has shown us different.”

Mark and I exchanged a glance. “How have I done that?” I asked when I looked back at our companion.

“For one thing, you exist. Shifters have known about dhampyr for ages, of course, but shifters have never been certain whether or not your kind constituted a living being. A dhampyr in our midst may actually be a good thing—we can learn so much from you. You’re living proof that our opinions about vampires have to change. I mean, vampires’ hearts beat just a few times every hour, so few that it may as well not beat at all. But yours is almost normal…well, perhaps a little faster than average, from what I can hear,” Juliette said. “You’ve also confirmed that most of that biological stuff Vivian Drake wrote about vampires in the Everland series is true.”

“Yeah, but you can’t go around telling people that I told you,” I said, realizing in that moment that I was going to have to tell them about Diarmid’s request.

“Why not?” Mark wanted to know.

I turned my eyes his way. “Because the vampire community is not happy with Vivian Drake as it is. She’s telling some of their most valued secrets in a medium the entire world has access to. The reason Evangeline was here yesterday was because my father wants me to find Vivian and find out who her source is—according to my sister, the source is considered the betrayer of vampire kind. Imagine how pissed they’d be if they found out another vampire was telling the local shifter population she’s telling the truth.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Saphrona, are you in danger?” he asked, his voice tight.

Juliette looked between us. “He knows that you know Vivian? Are you her source?”

She had asked me that last night, and although I had neither confirmed nor really denied the question, it was becoming clear to me that Juliette Singleton was no fool. I was going to have to tell her the whole truth.

“I’m not just her source,” I said slowly. “I’m her.”

“What?!” Juliette shouted.

“Damn it, Saphrona!” Mark said in a voice that I knew immediately was filled with tightly controlled anger. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me they wanted you dead when you told me you were Vivian Drake?”

“Because at that precise moment, I wasn’t thinking of the danger,” I said, rising from my chair. “And they don’t want me dead, they want Drake’s source dead.”

“Don’t argue semantics with me,” Mark said, also standing. “Based on what you’ve just told us, I don’t think they’re going to see the difference.”

“Mark, I can handle this,” I said firmly. “Given enough time, I know I can come up with a plan for diverting Diarmid’s attention away from Vivian Drake. I’ll be fine.”

“Planning on throwing my brother at him as a distraction?” Juliette seethed.

I turned and noted that now we were all on our feet. “What did I tell you last night about your tone of voice?” I reminded her, my own ire beginning to rise. “I also recall telling you that I love him and will do whatever it takes to protect him, so you can stop accusing me of plotting to use Mark for his blood!”

I paced away from both of them, needing space, stopping after a few steps to turn back. “I thought that we had settled things after our talks last night and earlier today, but apparently I was wrong,” I said to Juliette. “You obviously still do not trust me. Fine, but I’m through with you and your accusations against my character. Call your mother to have her come pick you up, because I won’t have you living on my property.”

Juliette’s stunned expression barely registered as I switched my attention from her to Mark.

“As for you, we are bonded for life now, and there is no changing that. But I will find a way to live without you if you can’t trust me to know what I’m doing. You’re also free to leave.”

With that, I stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room, where I slammed the door closed behind me. In the dim evening light filtering through the uncovered top half of my bedroom window, I registered a stack of four boxes next to the dresser—Mark’s things—and I felt anguish mixing with my anger. I walked over to the boxes and laid a hand on the top one, tears once again filling my eyes as I recalled having just told Mark he could leave.

I don’t know for how long I stood that way, but the next thing I knew, Mark had entered the bedroom—I hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs. I turned to him as he shut the door, and was shocked when he was in front of me in two long strides, his mouth crushing mine in a fierce, almost painful kiss. His arms were like vises around my body, but somehow I found room between us to grab at his shirt, wanting nothing more right then than to feel his sparsely-haired chest beneath my hands. My mind barely registered the tearing of the fabric, followed by more tearing when Mark returned the favor and tore my own shirt open. Even as he continued to punish my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine or roving over my teeth, feeling the sharp points of my fangs as they came down, his hands moved to my front where he next grabbed hold of my bra and tore it as well. He took a breast in each hand, pinching and rubbing my nipples as he had earlier that day, and I moaned with pleasure.