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

The Soul's Mark: BROKEN (The Soul's Mark #3) Page 37

Amelia broke away from him, barely having to use any strength at all, and she stepped out of his reach, unable, and maybe a little unwilling, to look at him. “A month,” she whispered, “maybe two just to be safe.”

He didn’t say anything, but she could smell the frustration and anger simmering on his skin. He paced towards her, and out of habit, she dodged him, skidding across the room. He groaned, frustrated. He wasn’t mad at her, she knew that, and she was pretty sure he just wanted to hold her. But it still freaked her out—just a little—especially since she couldn’t hear his thoughts. She opened her mouth, ready to yell for help, and then reality hit her and she laughed. Hard. So hard that her sides hurt and her jaw ached, and she plopped down on the floor, holding her stomach.

Mitchell jutted out his bottom lip, looking down at her. “It’s not that funny, love.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” she said, through her hysterical laughter.

A sexy, and maybe just a little devilish, grin spread upon his face, and then he scooped her up off the ground, cradling her in his arms. His eyes darkened, and Amelia stopped laughing.

“Mitch, what are …” she started, but didn’t get to finish. He pressed his lips to hers, working over them with such hunger and longing that it left her breathless. Her skin buzzed everywhere he touched, and she opened her mouth under his, taking the kiss deeper. There was something different … something that growled in her stomach, and her gums throbbed. Then, her fangs slid down, pinching in her mouth.

Amelia gasped, and broke the kiss abruptly. Revulsion washed over her in waves of hot and cold as she realized what she had been about to do. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he stopped her, placing a warm finger against her lips. “It’s okay, love.” He pressed a skin tingling kiss on her neck and whispered, “It’s a normal reaction.”

“But … but …” she said, but with his lips trailing along her neck and nibbling at her ear, she couldn’t figure out what it was she was trying to object to.

“Tomorrow,” he said against her neck. He carried her up the steps to their bed, pulling off her top as he went, and working on the buttons of her jeans, before he laid her down, his lips barely breaking from their exploration of her skin. “We’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”

She smiled, and her fangs flooded back into her gums, and she whispered, “Tomorrow.” And then, the world melted away, and the only thing that was left was Mitchell’s burning skin pressed against hers.