Marked by Moonlight Read Online Free PDF

brown that looked back at her every day. They were silver. No light blue or grayish blue either. Silver. A startling silver, reminiscent of ice…and something else. Something familiar. Something recent. A memory niggled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite touch it.
    Her fingers lightly grazed her cheekbone just below those strange eyes. Could drugs alter one’s eye color? Was this some sort of allergic reaction to the codeine? Or the tetanus shot?
    Maggie’s voice blared from the answering machine, penetrating her racing thoughts. Kids whooped and screamed in the background. “Just checking in. Call me if you get around to it. See you tomorrow…”
    Why would Maggie think she was going to see her today? On Saturday? Shaking her head, Claire grabbed her remote control off the dresser and flipped on the television, clicking through channels until she found the local news. A human Barbie doll reported the early morning weather in cheery, singsong tones.
    â€œLooks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day today. A great way to begin the week. Maybe it will make those headed-back-to-work-Monday blues easier…”
    The remote control slipped from her suddenly slack fingers and thudded to the carpet. She backed up, sinking onto the bed as realization washed over her.
    She had slept two nights . As impossible as it seemed, it was four fifteen Monday morning .
    â€œNo one can sleep that long,” she whispered over the drone of yet another message from her mother.
    She jumped up and rushed back to the mirror, gripping her hands around the edge of her sink until her knuckles turned white. Inhaling through her nostrils, she lifted her face and met her gaze dead on. It was like looking at a stranger. Those eyes chilled her.
    â€œWhat the hell’s going on?” she demanded of her reflection.
    The last thing she expected was an answer.
    â€œYou’re one of them now,” a gravelly voice said.
    She spun around, a scream lodged in her throat as she peered into the far corners of her room, searching for the owner of that voice.
    He was a shadow. A large, motionless form occupying her wicker chair—presumably where he’d been sitting since the minute she awoke.
    Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, her gaze darted wildly in search of a nearby weapon. Despite his marble-like stillness, an energy emanated from him that only heightened her agitation. He sat there like a deadly snake, frozen and still before the attack.
    â€œWho are you?” She plucked a curling iron from the basket of rarely used hair products next to her sink.
    â€œGideon March.” Accompanying that less-than-enlightening introduction, something flew through the air to land on her bed, making her flinch. “You forgot that.”
    Certain she detected amusement in his deep voice, she glanced at the object on her bed. Her purse. She looked back to the intruder’s shadowed features. “It was you in the alley,” she said slowly. “You saved me from that dog.”
    Still brandishing the curling iron in her hand, she inched closer to flip on the bedside lamp. A soft glow filled the room, reaching its corners and granting her a better view of the man sitting so casually, so relaxed, in her bedroom—as if he had every right to be there. His large frame dwarfed the chair and she worried it might collapse beneath his weight. The muted haze of light did nothing to soften the hard planes of his face. Even as she acknowledged his arresting good looks, she had the distinct impression he rarely smiled. Lean bodied, stone faced with pale eyes—the exact color she couldn’t yet detect—a regular Marlboro Man.
    Gideon March nodded at the curling iron in her hand. “Planning to curl my hair?”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Her fingers flexed around the curling iron’s steel grip, ready to club him over the head if he moved her way. “I don’t think