Mark of Betrayal

He ran his hands through his hair, standing tall again.



“Mike, please? I'm going. Please just support me.”



“No. If you go, Ara, I—” He stopped, scrunching his fists in the air, then took a deep breath and disappeared.



“Well,” Morgaine chimed, setting her pile of cards aside. “That went well.”



“It’s too bad.” I spun on my heel and headed back to the corridor. “He can’t control me all the time. I'm not a little girl anymore.”



“No, and you're not being truthful, either.”



I looked away from her as she came up beside me. “What do you mean by that?”



“Come on, Amara. Admit it. You want to see David again because you’re confused about how you feel.”



“How I feel?”



She blinked a few times, frowning as if concentrating. “I think you’re not sure if you love him anymore. What happened?”



I stopped walking, dropping my arms by my sides. “I never said that.”



Morgaine smiled. “You don’t have to.”



“I just—” I see his face. When I think of him, I see his face—the boy in my dreams; he’s so angry, so bitter, and full of so much hate. I just—I can't…I can't find anything in my heart for him when I see him like that. And I… “I know I love him. I know I do.” I touched my chest. “But…”



“Well, I’ve got bad news for you, Princess. You can't go see him.”



“But you just said—”



“I was stirring Mike.” She smirked. “He rises to the occasion every time.”



I shook my head, smiling. “My God, you are a torturer, aren’t you?”



She chuckled. “It’s just a bit of fun.”



“So, why can't I go see him?”



“Because he's not there.”



“Well, where is he?”



She pressed her lips together and leaned closer. “Right now, I don't know. But earlier today, he was here.”



“Here? At the manor?”



“Yep.”



“Oh, my God.” I folded over slightly and looked around, as if I might spot him. “Is he crazy? Why would he do that?”



“He was just checking in on you—he does that from time to time. I cover his scent for him.”



“Cover it? With what?”



“Garlic.” She grinned.



“What does that do?”



“You really don’t know much about vampires, do you?”



“Morg,” I huffed, rolling my head to the side. “How does it work?”



“Like a mask—it blocks the scent, leaving a rancid perfume. People will know someone’s been spraying it around, but won’t know why.”



“So, how have I not noticed he’s been here? I’d have smelled him a mile off.”



“Precisely why he only comes when you’re asleep.”



“Asleep?” My jaw jutted forward. “He watches me while I sleep?”



She laughed. “Trust me, he doesn't like being the creepy stalker, but he said he’d go mad if he didn't get to see you. So, if sleep-time is all he gets, he said that’s better than a padded cell.”



All the disgust blew out of me in a short huff. “Okay, that’s kind of sweet. But I'm still mad. Why didn't he wake me—tell me he was here?”



“He’s trying to figure things out too, Ara.”



“Like what?”



“Like how he feels.”



“He’s not sure?”



“It’s more that he’s not sure how you feel about him. I think he can sense it, you know—your confusion.”



“I'm not really confused,” I said.



“Right. Of course you’re not. You never are.” She leaned on the wall. “But, I think he’s wondering if maybe you’ve moved on—in your heart. Like maybe he’s not enough for you.”



“Why would he think that? I never said or felt anything like that.”



Morgaine cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know those dreams you’ve been having?”



“Dreams?”



“About Jason.”



“What do you know about them? I never told you about them, did I?” I went through my conversations with her.



“No, you didn’t,” she said. “But David saw a few.”



“What?”



Morgaine flicked her cherry red hair and smiled. “When you sleep, you're not as good at that mind-block thing as when you're awake.”



I sunk back and leaned on the wall across from her. “What…what did he see?”



“You tell me.”



“I—his childhood?” I tried.



She shrugged, her shoulders staying up for a second. “I don't really know. All I know is that he’s pretty convinced you don't love him so much now, and that if he doesn't do something soon, he’s going to lose you forever.”



I breathed out, touching my collarbone. “But, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve just got a lot of issues to work through. But I still love him.”



“Then tell him that.”



“How? He won't speak to me. He…he comes here and doesn't tell me. How am I supposed to even apologise for the argument we had?”



“You know, this not speaking to you thing is for a reason. And it’s not what you think.”



“Well, what is it?”



“He…he dug up some info on your family, and it’s bad news. That’s all I know.” She raised her hands before I could jump in with an inquisition. “He’s worried that, with you catching his thoughts sometimes, especially when you get…” she cleared her throat, “—hot, that you might see something he's not ready to tell you.”



“But shouldn’t I know? If he knows something about me, he should tell me—I have a right to know, too.”



“No. Not until he's sure. He doesn’t want you to be upset for no reason if it turns out to be wrong.”



“If what does? What does he know?”



“I don't know, Amara. He wouldn’t tell me. Look—” she touched my shoulder, “—have faith in him, for once. Just once, don't go looking for trouble. He will come to you when he's ready—”



“No, he won't, Morgaine. You know he won't tell me if it’s something that’ll upset me. Please?” My voice quivered with desperation. “Morg? Please?”



She rolled her eyes, at herself, I think, and exhaled. “Okay, look, all I can tell you is that…he took a DNA sample from you while you were sleeping and—”



“He did?”



“Yes.” She touched her thumb to her cheek. “Just a swab. But…he had it matched against your great grandmother—you remember that really old woman I discovered?”



“Yeah, my mum’s grandmother.”



“It wasn't a match. So, he fed her blood while she was sleeping—did that a few times and…nothing. She’s not Lilithian. And she’s not related to you—in any way.”



“So…my mum wasn't really my mum?” I said quietly, already knowing that deep down inside.



Morgaine shook her head. “I'm sorry, Amara.”



“Me too,” I muttered, more to myself than her. “So…what about my dad, then? Is he actually my dad?”



“I don't know. David wouldn't tell me that much. He’s very guarded about all this, Princess.”



“Okay.” I nodded, a little breathless. “So—”



“So, for now—” she patted my shoulder, “—just know that he's checking in on you from time to time, and maybe you can leave him a note or something.”



“No. Checking in on me is not good enough. He should have come to me. He should have told me all that.”



“He will in his own time.” She turned me so I faced her, and held both my shoulders firmly. “Don't you bring this up with him, Amara. I told you that stuff in confidence. If you want him to trust me, he can't know I told you anything, or he will keep things from me, too. Got it?”



I nodded. “Fine. But I'm still allowed to be mad at him for sleep-stalking me and not telling me he’s been coming here.”



“Yes, you have every right.” She smiled and shook her head. “But he has to stop coming here anyway. The vamp-rebellion arrives tomorrow and then it’ll be impossible for him to get past the guards.”



“Why?”



“We have some very skilled trackers. One of the guys was our top vampire Scout; he will smell David, and he will know he's alive. Had the Scout been Lilithian, we could’ve risked him knowing about David. But, if he's a mole, then we could lose this battle before it’s begun. So, David promised not to come after tomorrow.”



“Then I need to get upstairs and write a note for him.”



“Okay. I’ll go tell Mike you thought about what he said and decided to listen to him,” she said as I walked away.



“He won’t believe you,” I called without turning back.



Dear spineless. No, scratch that. Dear annoying, no, not that either. Dear David. That’s better. Wake me when you come to spy on me. I need to speak to you. If you don't, I will file for divorce! No, scratch that. If you don't, I will cry myself to sleep for the next ten years. Love, Ara.



There. I left the note on my nightstand, folded in half so it stood up like a name card on a wedding table, and retraced the letters on the front so it said, in bold, READ ME, then changed into a soft cotton nightdress and crawled into bed.



Outside, the horizon turned darker over the ocean closer to the west, with a pale hint of the day to come seeping in from the east.



Though my body had dragged the exhaustion of the day to bed with it, I couldn't just slip off to sleep—not with the possibility that he’d come and wouldn’t wake me. If I didn't see him soon, I was sure I’d spontaneously combust, or at least do something incredibly stupid just to look into his eyes again.



I rolled over and puffed the pillows, then laid still for a moment, and since that didn't work, puffed the pillows again and rolled back the other way. My heart raced, my breath uneven. I listened carefully for the sound of silence, hoping the crickets would hush and give sign that he was out there somewhere. But they were even nosier than usual, almost like a chirpy slap in the face; the little buggers were probably dancing around a bonfire singing, “He doesn't love you. He's not coming. Ha-ha, ha-ha.”



“Shut up!” I screamed at them, slamming a pillow over my face. But the pillow disappeared with a cool rush of air.



“I didn't say anything yet.”



I jumped involuntarily, scuffling to the back of my bed when a body became apparent beside me, but as soon as the amazing green gaze of my husband registered in my sight, I rocketed forward and flung my arms around his neck. “You came!”



He wore two weeks worth of tears, loneliness, sorrow, regret, happiness and missing him, all over his face in a collection of probably very sloppy kisses.



“Whoa, Ara.” He laughed, unfastening my wrists from around his neck, then laid me back on the pillow beside him. “You okay?”



“Are you kidding me? I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you expect anything less than a smothering of kisses?”



He cleared his throat. “I kind of expected a slap first.”



“That was the plan,” I huffed, folding my arms. “Damn you and your cute dimples.”



His half smile curved deeply into his cheek, showing just a little of his fang. “Hungry?”



“What makes you think I'm hungry?”



He placed his hand over my heart. “Because this just picked up about ten beats and your temperature increased about three degrees.”



“Maybe it’s not hunger,” I said, rocking my knees.



He jumped up, leaving the space beside me empty. “I didn’t come here for that.”



“For what—to make love to your wife?” I rolled my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.



“No,” he said, folding his arms, his solemn gaze on the dawn outside my window. “I came to give you a kiss, tell you I love you, then get back to work.”



“Work? What are you working on?”



“I'm hunting down Drake at the moment.”



“And what about my family history?”



The ball of his throat shifted. “Another time, okay.”



“Fine. But…have you had any good leads on Drake?”



“No.”



“Have you checked out Mu—er, Elysium?”



David smirked, angling his head to look down at me. “Elysium?”



“Ur, yeah, we kind of got in a little trouble for calling it The Castle of the Dead.”



He rolled his head back, laughing. “Who was it? Who slipped up?”



“Eric.”



He laughed harder. “Oh, I wish I’d been there.”



“No, you don't. I told Arthur you always called it that, and he was not impressed.”



“That’s okay, my resurrection from the dead will save me any trouble. And I only called it that around you to stop you Googling it to find out where I lived.”



“Really?” I half laughed. “Because…I would never have actually thought of that.”



“It wouldn't have surprised me if you had. I could just imagine waking up to tap on the shoulder from the castle butler saying there was a nice human girl at the door for me.”