Black Scar by Karyn Gerrard Page A

welcome to join us,” Steve said.
    Marcus shook his
head. “No. Not interested.”
    “Jesus, man, is
there anything they can do for your face? It’s kinda hard to look at...”
    Marcus stood and
pushed the chair back with such force it fell over.
    “Then don’t
look.”
    He strode from
the dining room.
    ****
    Back in his room,
Marcus took an inventory of the first twenty-one years of his existence.
Thropes lived a Spartan life, and material objects held no deep meaning any
more than other people did, including members of their own families. What
family? His ancient Thrope father died when he was barely walking. His mother,
some unknown female used and tossed aside, died giving birth to him. His
half-brothers were virtual strangers, even Devlin. He could not recall one
significant conversation with any of them.
    He thought this
existence normal until he stayed with the Black’s. Mutual love, esteem, and
consideration ruled their relationships, along with desire, passion, and lust.
He could not help but observe how Deegan, Tristan, and Lucius revered and
respected their mates. They were forever touching them, holding them close as
if to protect them. When Lucius offered his blood, Marcus felt the deep, solid
connection Lucius had with his mate, Trevina. He would die to defend her,
shield her from any harm. He had also felt the link that had formed between
himself and Lucius.
    Such emotions had
been overwhelming Marcus since he was turned. It seemed he longed for just such
a connection as well. Perhaps he found it in Logan MacNeil. What did it matter?
She did not want him.
    Marcus opened the
closet and reached for the duffle bag on the top shelf. Fuck this. He yanked open his dresser and threw the duffle on the
nearby bed. He grabbed handfuls of his wrinkled clothes and tossed them on the
bed.
    Fuck everyone. He should become a Rogue, go hide in the damned
mountains like a hillbilly hermit. Surround the place with barbed wire and buy
a pit bull that would gnaw the leg off anyone who stepped on his property. Get
the prerequisite rusted-out car up on cement blocks for a lawn ornament...
    A soft knock on
his door interrupted his maudlin thoughts. He marched to the door and threw it
open. A petite woman with hair the color of autumn leaves stood before him. She
gazed at him steadily, not even reacting to his hideousness.
    “Second? I am
Daniela McCann. May we have a word?”
    Marcus sighed and
held out his arm in invitation. The woman stepped into the room, and Marcus
slammed the door hard. She never even flinched. He glared down at her; she
couldn’t be any more than three inches over five feet, if that.
    “Who the hell are
you?”
    Her small hands
caressed her mid-section. “I carry your pup.”
    Marcus’s insides
lurched. How pathetic, he didn’t even recognize the woman. Yet, why would he?
He took those women the Thrope way, from behind. Never even saw their faces,
nor did he speak to them. He did his breeding a couple of weeks after he had
been turned into a Vampire. At the time, he still felt like a Thrope in a lot
of ways. Not anymore.
    “What do you want
of me, Daniela?” His voice sounded weary to his own ears.
    “I prefer to be
called Dani.” She glanced at his bed, the clothes and duffle bag in a heap.
“Are you leaving? If so, I ask you to take me with you. I no longer wish to
remain here.”
    Marcus stepped
closer to Dani. “I sense you are not human, but I cannot quite tell if you are
a Thrope.”
    “What does it
matter? If you leave, let me go with you. I do carry your...”
    “Child. Baby.
Don’t say pup. I hate that term.”
    A slight smile
curved about her full lips. “In truth, I do as well.”
    Marcus crossed
his arms. “You are aware I am a Vampire? I may have been born a Thrope, but
little remains of the Wolfen creature I once was.”
    She nodded. “I
have heard the talk. The great sacrifice of the Second, allowing his blood to
be tainted for the good of the Pack. I also heard you were