The Soul's Mark: HUNTED (The Soul's Mark #2)

Amelia flinched, and she really had to fight not to run. If there was one thing she had learned over the last eight months, it was to not show fear. The vampires could smell it, and they thrived on it. Even the friendliest of them could lose control and mistake a friend for a tasty snack when the hunting instincts kicked in.

Eyes still fixed on Amelia, he growled, “Fiona,” in a lethal undertone. “Put her down. There’s no hunting here.”

Fiona? The hair on the back of Amelia’s neck rose, and a prickling chill rushed down her spine. She pushed past Eric and froze mid step. Her eyes settled on Fiona.

In theory, Amelia understood the concept of feeding. It wasn’t as if she had never been bitten before. With Mitchell, the bite was tender, pleasurable, filled with intense emotions. It brought them together, connecting them on a whole new level. It was almost as if, in those blissful moments, they were one. One person, one soul; they were whole.

However, what Amelia now saw before her was nothing like she experienced with Mitchell. Fiona looked like a prostitute gone mad, clutching a young girl in her arms. Her normally runway model perfect hair was a wild mess. The tangled black strands fell into her blazing eyes, making her pallid complexion look unearthly and almost colorless. She snarled at Amelia, flashing razor sharp fangs, and a trickle of blood dripped down her chin and stained her lacy, orange tank top. Her black spandex shorts left little to the imagination. They were so tiny that they looked more like a pair of boy-cut underwear than shorts, and she was wearing a pair of coal-black knee-high leather boots.

The girl was crying so hard that her screams were scarcely heard, coming out instead as strangled coughs. Fiona held her by the wrist effortlessly as she struggled to get away. Amelia drew in a steadying breath, hoping to come off as unruffled. She wasn’t sure if she could pull it off. In truth, she was shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail on the inside. She squared her shoulders and focused all her attention on Fiona. “Let her go,” she said with a ringing authority that she didn’t even know she had in her.

Fiona threw her head back, her long jet-black hair fanning wildly around her face, and her laugh was pure evil. “Oh, Millie, I thought I told you before. You’re nothing; Mitch is the one who rules, not you.” Fiona gave a big toothy smile, and her gold nugget eyes streaked red. “Besides, he’s the one that gave me permission to hunt here. If you have an issue with this, you should take it up with him.”

Amelia opened her mouth and then closed it, completely stunned. Had Fiona just said what she thought she said? Mitchell gave her permission? The idea was ludicrous. Or was it?

Right then, Eric made a move towards Fiona and everything after that happened in a blurry mess. Fiona sunk her teeth into the girl’s neck. The girl screamed a terrifyingly, agonizing sound. White-hot rage surged through Amelia, and she bellowed through the bond, Mitchell!

That was all it took for him to tune in, and she instantly felt the hum of him sifting through her thoughts, picking out her location, her surroundings, and looking for any danger. When he put all the pieces together, a mix of panic and rage flooded in so fast she staggered back.

Get away from them, Amelia! Mitchell shouted, the thoughts erupting inside her mind as loud as the booming thunder above.

Eric wrestled Fiona off the girl, and she collapsed in a bloody mess. Amelia dropped down beside her and pushed herself into action, quickly checking for a pulse. When she finally found the faint heartbeat, she let out a pent-up breath.

“Eric,” she hollered. “Eric, help me!” She frantically ripped off her top, balled it up, and pressed it against the girl’s neck, trying to stop the steady stream of blood. She had never seen anyone bleed so much from a bite, and she was sure Fiona must have hit an artery.

Amelia wanted to scream. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty-one years old. She was dirty and ragged looking, as if she hadn’t been home in months, maybe years. Her jeans were torn, her hair was a knotted, blondish-gray mess, and Amelia couldn’t even begin to make out what color her shirt had been through the layers upon layers of dirt and grime.

Mitchell’s panicked yells ruptured through their bond in a tidal wave of fear, but to Amelia, it was just a buzz of noises as she tried to stop the bleeding. How could he permit hunting? And Fiona. Did he really know Fiona was back? He had sworn to her that it would stop—it had stopped. No one was allowed to hunt, not here, not in Willowberg.

The blood was soaking right through her top, and no matter how hard Amelia pressed, she couldn’t make it stop. She was talking to the girl; she was vaguely aware that her lips were moving, but she didn’t know what she was saying. It sounded mumbled, distorted, and nothing like her own voice. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes flew open, and a small tear slid down her cheek. “I’m cold,” she whispered.

Amelia stared down at her, incapable of speaking, unable to move. The blood. So much blood. The last time she has seen that much blood, gushing like the rapids of a river, was when her parents died.

Suddenly, Mitchell was there, pulling her away and into his arms. “No!” Amelia screamed. “Let go!” She pulled and struggled, trying to get out of his grasp. “I have to help her,” she pleaded, as she thrashed about in his arms. “We have to save her.”

“She’s gone, Amelia,” Mitchell whispered, caressing her hair and holding her tightly to his chest.

“No!” Amelia cried, looking up at him. “She’s breathing. Do something! Change her. Please don’t let her die.” She watched a montage of expressions cross his brow—contemplation, guilt, pain, anger, before finally settling into a cold and closed remoteness.

“I’ll do it,” Eric offered. He shot a menacing look at Fiona that clearly said, Don't move, and then he took a step towards the girl. Her breath was ragged, coming out in short, shallow bursts, and her eyes were wide with fear.

“No, you will not,” Mitchell ordered, and as if the storm was helping him to make a point, a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, illuminating his strong jaw, which was set in a rigid line. He waited for the rumbling thunder to diminish before he said, “She will not be changed.”

A wave of blistering heat hit Amelia hard and fury engulfed her from his cruel and heartless words. She let her magic push through her body, gathering it in the pit of her stomach. She let it simmer there, warming her blood and swirling around, and waited for it to boil into a burning ball of lava. When she felt as if she would burst into flames at any moment, she let it loose. “You are a bastard!" she screamed. “Let go of me.”

Stripes of gold, like rays from the sun, shot from every inch of her skin, and Mitchell snarled as the steamy energy hit him, tossing him back. Fiona gasped and her already pale skin turned ghostly, but Amelia didn’t care who she scared. She let her anger consume her. The swirling storm in her belly was kicked up a notch as Mitchell’s rage began to mix with her own. Without thinking, she pulled on it, twisting it into a fiery ball of wrath, letting his emotions fuel another blast of magic, which she launched at him. With an excruciating howl, he crumpled to his knees.

“Ahem, err…Millie,” Eric said in an excessively cautious voice. “Um, can you rein it in a little?” He took a few unsure steps closer to her and placed himself in front of Mitchell. “Come on, sweetie. You can control this.” He cupped her face gently and gave her an encouraging look.

Amelia, please, Mitchell’s terrified voice filled her mind, and as if he had flipped a switch, the sound of his voice—deep and velvety— brought her back to the here and now, and the golden ribbons of magic pulled back and flaked away.

Her knees trembled from exertion, and she drew in a winded breath. She slumped to the ground and put pressure back on the girl’s neck. The bleeding was slowing, but there was so much blood on the ground that Amelia wasn’t sure if it would help any. When she could find her voice, she glanced back at Eric and pleaded, “Please save her.”

Before her eyes could process the movement, Mitchell had rolled up to his feet and grabbed Eric by the arm. “Eric, you will not change her.”

Eric let his head drop, refusing to look at Amelia, and she knew she had lost. He wouldn’t help her either. “Sorry. I just…”

“Fiona,” Mitchell growled, cutting Eric off. “Don’t even think about moving.”

Amelia stared up at Mitchell blankly, not comprehending. All she could think was, she’s so young. A small whimper filled her ears, and then Amelia looked back at the girl. She met Amelia’s eyes; a stream of blood ran from her neck, and she choked on the air as she tried to suck in a breath. Her lips twitched up, into a dreamlike kind of smile, and then her eyes slowly went vacant.

Amelia sat back on her heels and tightened her arms around her chest in a hug. The warning signs were all there. This was all her fault—she just knew it. She knew Mitchell was hiding something from her. She knew there was something wrong. Why hadn’t she figured it out? She was supposed to be the smart one. How? Why? The questions were flying around so quickly that she couldn’t seem to grasp onto one. The only thing she was certain of was, without a doubt, this was her fault. She let her guard down and now…

Amelia, you don’t understand, Mitchell sent silently and squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t,” she said, quickly getting up from the ground and taking a step back, refusing to use their link to reply to him, not wanting to let him in or feel close to him. She shrugged away his touch. A blissful hush fell over her, and warmth rushed through her body in waves. It took everything she had to bury the uncontrollable urge to fling herself into his arms. To her dismay, no matter how much she wanted to scream at him, she couldn’t stop her stupid heart from fluttering erratically as he pushed the feelings to her, trying to calm her and wipe away the horror she had just witnessed. She sucked in a deep breath and let the feelings steady her. Then she said, “Eric, go get Ty and tell him what happened here. Tell him to make arrangements.”

“No, I’ll handle it,” Mitchell said. He reached out to touch her again, and she flinched away. For a brief second, she was sure she saw an inkling of hurt pass across his eyes, but it was so quick, that even with the bond, she wasn’t entirely sure.