Eric blinked, and then blinked again. What? Who was Amelia? What fire? How many things did he not know? Or maybe the better question was how many of Mitchell’s lessons had he ignored?
“She used your vampiric energy to gain substance,” Lola said matter-of-factly. Everyone looked at her then, and she shrugged. “What? After she died, I did some research about the connection. It’s more common than you think, especially when the connection is strong.”
They were all still gaping at Lola as if they had never seen her before, when Eric blurted, “Who is Amelia?”
Mitchell opened his mouth to speak, but to Eric’s amazement, he closed it just as quickly. For the first time since Eric met him, Mitchell looked … broken. Utterly and completely broken. There was no mask. His emotions were thick in the air; cold, broken, and empty. It was as if a piece of him died at the mention of her name, but behind the brokenness, Eric also caught something else, self-loathing and a burning hatred. Even Eric knew that was a dangerous mixture.
“She’s Mitchell’s soulmate,” Angelle said. She whispered a few soothing notes in Mitchell’s ear and rubbed his shoulder, her arm still wrapped tightly around him, before she continued. “She was burned as a witch just over three-hundred years ago, and he hasn’t been able to find her since.”
“She died, and you’re still looking?” Eric said it as a question, because well, it was. Mitchell smiled at him, or that’s what Eric thought it was supposed it be. It looked more like a freaked-out sneer than a smile.
“Eric, no human really dies,” Mitchell said, his voice thick with emotion. “Their body may, but the soul never does. Even if you don’t find Megan in this lifetime, she’ll come back to you in another.” He offered another scary looking smile, and Eric cringed.
Not find Megan? That wasn’t a scenario that Eric wanted to think about. It was right then that he decided what he would do. The others continued on, telling him about the mark and some kind of bond that happens after a human gets bitten by their vampire soulmate, but Eric wasn’t listening. No, he was too busy forming a plan. A plan to find Megan before whatever, or whoever, was after her found her first.
CHAPTER 9
Eric was being held—restrained. He figured it was his own fault; he should never have attempted to come up with a plan while the others had been trying to explain what was happening to him. Mitchell had said it was evident, written clearly across Eric’s face. So … Mitchell had locked him away, supposedly to stop Eric from doing anything rash and impulsive. Mitchell claimed it was just until they all knew what they were dealing with, but Eric didn’t care why.
The cellar was damp and dark, and the chains that kept Eric pinned to the wall were cold. But he hardly noticed any of it. All he had really noticed for the last three days was the relentless tug around his heart. Three excruciatingly long days. And each day, Megan’s fear was stronger. And the stronger it got, the harder it was to stay civil. He wanted to go on a rampage, killing anyone that stood in his way. He had never felt so useless before. But right now, that’s exactly how he felt. Useless.
“Eric, this is for your own good,” Mitchell said. He had been sitting in front of Eric, blabbing on and on about soulmates, and dreams, and God only knows what else for hours now. “You’ll only put her in more danger by chasing her.”
“You don’t know anything!” Eric snarled, yanking against the chains. He wanted to kill Mitchell—literally. All he could think about was ripping out his throat. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to break the chains, drive his hand through Mitchell’s chest, and tear out his heart. He felt like a wild animal, savage and ruthless, and although he knew this was not him, he relished the thought of watching Mitchell’s body fall in a lifeless heap at his feet.
Mitchell rose from his chair, and his eyes flashed red. “I’ve spent seven hundred years dealing with this bond, Eric. If you’re not thinking clearly, you’ll hurt her. You could even kill her.”
“You’re insane,” Eric hissed. Kill her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Never.
Mitchell tossed his hands up in exasperation, and started pacing the dirt cellar floor. “I’m trying to help you. You’re too young for this.”
“How can you tell me she’s real, and then lock me up like a rabid dog?” Eric spat, barely hearing Mitchell’s pleas. “I thought you cared about me. I thought I was your family.”
“I do care, Eric,” Mitchell said softly, and then he sighed, a sad kind of sound. “I know you don’t understand, but it is because I care that I can’t let you run after her until you know where she is, and what’s chasing her. You’ll only make things worse.”
“I hate you!” Eric yelled. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Mitchell looked … well, he looked like Eric had physically punched him, and it was awful. Completely and utterly awful. He may want Mitchell dead, but he also loved him. It was the most confusing mix of emotions that Eric had ever felt.
Mitchell dropped down into a chair and scrubbed at his face as he whispered, “I know.”
Lola brought Eric dinner that night. It was a blonde with bright blue eyes, and she was overly willing to donate her blood. She even urged him to take more than he needed, and Eric was pretty sure she would have let him drain every last drop of blood she held within her body if she had thought it would make him happy.
She was curled up on the dirt floor beside him, her head resting on his bare chest. “Will you please leave,” Eric said through gritted teeth, again. He lifted his shoulder from the wall with a jerk, in an attempt to dislodge her head from his chest. It didn’t work.
She shifted her cheek so she could glance up at him through sad, sleepy eyes. “Why don’t you like me?” she asked, pouting. She ran a finger up and down his chest, playing with the top of his slacks before dragging her nail back up again.
Eric just shrugged. What was he supposed to say? I don’t like you because you are just a meal. You are food, that’s it. It sounded overly harsh, even if it was the truth. What did these humans expect? Did they really think they could be more than a handy meal? And really, did the girl miss the fact that he was chained to a wall? She had been delivered to a prisoner (well, not really a prisoner, but she didn’t know that) and she was begging for more of him. Whatever manipulation Lola had used, she had definitely gone overboard.
“Am I not good enough for you?” she said, her voice whiney and overly grating.
“What?” he asked distractedly, and nudged her head again, but this time she wrapped an arm around him, holding him tightly to her. He wished that Lola would come back and take her away, because small talk with food was really, really not something he wanted to do.
“Is there someone else?” she whispered, nuzzling against him, her breath warm against his skin, and she lightly trailed her fingers down his chest again.
Eric groaned loudly. He was going to wring Lola’s scrawny little neck the next time he saw her. If this was her idea of a joke, brainwashing some poor girl to offer herself to him in ways that she shouldn’t even think of offering to anyone but her husband, he would throttle her.
“Mr. Carter?” Eric cringed at the sharp tone. Megan. He reluctantly followed the sound, glancing up, certain that he would see anger in those pretty green eyes.
He did.
Her eyes were bright and full of fury. He should have known she would pop up now. Since Mitchell had put him here, she seemed to only show up when he was doing something he did not want her to see, or when she was terrified and running for her life. She hadn’t been sleeping much, too scared to close her eyes, but over the last few days … well, she had found him in a few embarrassing situations.
And of course, like every other time she had appeared, Mitchell wasn’t here to see her. Eric was certain that if Mitchell could just see Megan, he would let him go.
“Hello, Megan,” Luke’s voice boomed from the doorway, before Eric could even open his mouth.
Megan spun on her heels, her hands on her hips. “Who are you? Why are you in my dream?” she blurted in a frenzy. Then she turned back to Eric, and her eyes shimmered with angry tears. “Who is that girl all over you, Mr. Carter?” she demanded, with a little stomp of her foot.
“I should ask you that. This is your dream,” Eric said, and chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Megan was just so darn cute when she was angry. She pursed her lips and put her hands back on her hips, tapping her foot and waiting for more of an answer. If she only knew that I was real, Eric thought, she would probably try to stake me. Because with the look she was giving him, well, Eric wasn’t sure if she was going to try to kill him or go after his meal.
Luke swept past Megan. “I’m a friend of Eric’s, and she is no one.” He bent down, scooping the girl up in his arms, and whispered so softly that only Eric could hear him, “Ask her where she is. I’ll be back in a moment.” Luke met his eyes, staring at him intently for a moment, and then he left, taking the girl with him.
Once Luke was gone, Eric was sure Megan was going to yell at him. She looked like she wanted to, but she didn’t. She just stood there, with narrowed eyes, and her hands still on her hips, and that was even worse. He would have preferred to hear all the hateful things she was thinking. To know how badly he had messed up, even if he really hadn’t done anything. Instead, she just glared, and the silence between them was so thick that Eric could scarcely breathe.
Finally, after an eternally long moment, she sighed and shook her head. “Mr. Carter, why in the world are you chained to that wall again?”
“Like I said before, it’s your dream, you tell me,” he said hastily, frustrated. Eric had decided not to tell her the truth yet, and holding it back was brutal. He wanted to wait and tell her everything in person. In person, she would believe it, he was certain, but in a dream … he knew she wouldn’t.