When Vampires Ink and Bathroom Fights Collide

When Vampires Ink and Bathroom Fights Collide


"Mate marks... usually appear on the shoulder blades," he says slowly, like he's reciting from a werewolf manual that I clearly never read. "It's... unusual to see one on the chin."

"Unusual? Dad, I'm special," I say sarcastically, trying to inject some humor into what is rapidly becoming the most awkward conversation of my life. "Like a limited edition. A collector's item. Very rare."

He doesn't smile, just studies me with a look that says he's already calculating all the possible ways this could go horribly wrong and probably coming up with a number that's way too high for comfort.

"Julia," he says carefully, using that voice that means we're about to have a Serious Talk that I'm not prepared for. "We need to figure out what this means. And fast."

Before I can respond, before I can come up with any kind of explanation that doesn't involve admitting that I've been making out with vampires in our kitchen, Mom appears in the doorway.

She takes one look at me lying on the bathroom floor covered in blood and immediately goes into full maternal crisis mode.

"Oh my God, Julia! What happened? Are you hurt? Do we need to call Dr. Martinez?" She rushes over, her hands fluttering around my head like she's not sure where to start with the damage assessment.

"I fell," I say, which is technically true even if it's not the whole story. "Hit my head on the sink."

"You fell?" Mom's voice climbs about three octaves. "How do you fall in a bathroom? It's like, four square feet!"

"It's a gift," I mutter.

That's when Mom notices the mark.

Her face goes through approximately seventeen different expressions in the span of two seconds, ranging from confusion to horror to something that might be recognition.

"Is that...?" She trails off, staring at my chin like it might start speaking in ancient languages.

"A mate mark," Dad confirms grimly. "On her chin."

Mom blinks rapidly, like she's trying to process information that doesn't compute with her understanding of how the world works.

"But mate marks don't... they're not supposed to..." She gestures helplessly at my face. "Who marked you, Julia?"

And there it is. The question I've been dreading since I noticed the mark.

I could lie. I should lie. I should come up with some story about how I don't know what happened, how I woke up with it, how it's probably just some weird werewolf puberty thing that will go away on its own.

But looking at my parents' faces—Dad's growing suspicion, Mom's panic—I realize that lying is probably just going to make things worse when they inevitably find out the truth.

"Rowan," I say quietly.

The name hangs in the air like a bomb that's about to explode.

Dad's face goes through several color changes, settling on a shade of red that suggests his blood pressure just spiked to dangerous levels.

"The vampire," he says, his voice deadly quiet. "The vampire marked you."

"It was an accident!" I say quickly, which is probably the lamest defense in the history of supernatural incidents. "I didn't know he was going to—"

"An accident?" Dad's voice starts quiet and gets progressively louder. "How do you accidentally get marked by a vampire, Julia?"

"Well," I say, sitting up slowly and immediately regretting it as the bathroom spins around me, "when a vampire and a werewolf like each other very much—"

"This is not the time for jokes!" Mom interrupts, her voice reaching frequencies that probably shatter glass. "Do you understand what this means? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I have some idea," I admit, because the mark on my chin is kind of hard to ignore.

Dad starts pacing in the small bathroom, which is quite a feat considering there's barely enough room for one person, let alone a full-grown Beta having a crisis.

"This is a disaster," he mutters. "A complete disaster. The pack is going to—" He stops mid-sentence, his face going pale. "Oh God. The pack."

Mom sits down heavily on the edge of the bathtub, like her legs just gave out. "They're going to want to know why their Beta's daughter is mated to a vampire."

"Can't we just... not tell them?" I suggest hopefully.

Both parents turn to stare at me like I just suggested we burn down the house and move to another planet.

"Julia," Dad says slowly, "mate marks are permanent. They don't go away. And they're visible to anyone who knows what to look for."

"Which is everyone in our pack," Mom adds helpfully.

"Right," I say, my stomach sinking further. "So we're basically screwed."

"Language," Mom says automatically, even in the middle of a supernatural crisis.

Dad stops pacing and looks at me with an expression I can't quite read. "Julia, I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Everything. Don't leave anything out."

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain the most complicated night of my life without making it sound like I'm completely insane.

"Well," I begin, "it started when he climbed through my window..."

And that's when Amy chooses to make her entrance, bursting through the bathroom door like she's staging a dramatic rescue.

"Julia! I heard you fell and—" She stops mid-sentence when she sees me sitting on the bathroom floor, covered in blood, with two very upset parents and what is definitely a supernatural tattoo on my face. "Oh. This looks bad."

"You think?" I say dryly.

Amy's eyes zero in on the mark, and her mouth falls open. "Is that a mate mark? On your chin?"

"Apparently."

"From who?"

I look at my parents, who are both staring at me with expressions that suggest they're preparing for the worst news possible.

"Rowan," I admit.

Amy blinks. "The vampire?"

"The vampire," Dad confirms grimly.

Amy looks between me, my parents, and the mark, her expression cycling through confusion, realization, and something that might be impressed admiration.

"Damn, Julia," she says finally. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

"Language," Mom says again, but without much conviction.

I lean back against the bathroom wall, closing my eyes and trying to process the fact that my life has officially become a supernatural soap opera.

"So," I say finally, "what happens now?"

The silence that follows is not encouraging.

Finally, Dad speaks. "Now we figure out how to explain to the pack that their Beta's daughter is mated to their mortal enemy without starting a war."

"No pressure," I mutter.

And that's when I realize that falling down in the bathroom might actually be the least of my problems today.