11. Drew

Chapter eleven

Drew

I don't know what time I fall asleep that morning, but when I wake, I know only a few hours have passed. My eyes feel gritty and my head hurts.

What's worse—that a vampire hunted and bit Kieran, or that things still seem to be strange around here? There's something else Kieran isn't telling me; I know that. I can't read him well, not yet. But I can smell that he's holding something back.

I stumble into the bathroom and dress, knowing I won't go back to sleep now. When I catch sight of my reflection, I sigh. I look terrible. Not that it should matter, but I think of Sam stepping out of his bedroom the night before, looking sleek and vicious enough to make my mouth water, and heat rushes to my face.

I know he and Adam kissed. At least. I tried not to listen, but there's no getting around it in a flat as small as this. When they came out of the room, I could smell the arousal on both of them, anyway, and that's…

Fine.

Not my business, certainly.

I wash up and go back out into the living room, circling the space. I'm desperate to go outside, to be sure that the area around the building is safe, but it's not like I know what I'm looking for.

The vampire is dead. The mage is dead. Whoever's behind this, well, it doesn't seem like Sam knows who they are, either.

They know him. Hate him, if they're trying to frame him for murder.

I move into the kitchen, though of course it's all still the same room, and start opening cupboards, seeing what I can find. Going outside is out of the question, especially while Sam and Kieran are still sleeping, and I can't shift in here. I need another way to get the itch out from under my skin.

There are just enough eggs left that I could make cakes, so I turn my attention to that, flicking on the oven before I grab the scales and start weighing ingredients out. It's not long before my mind falls into that gentle, meditative state it always does when I'm baking, made even easier by the fact that I can't find an electronic mixer in here, so I have to do everything by hand.

I do find cupcake cases, which is surprising, and by the time I'm doling the batter into them, Sam's door opens, and he steps out into the living room.

He's clearly just woken up, rubbing his eyes before he frowns at what I'm doing. He's wearing a shirt with his boxers this morning, but it's loose, and the half-moon at the top of his tattoo peeks out from beneath the material.

I force my eyes away when I realise I'm thinking about licking over that spot. I know his tattoo goes all the way down his chest and I could trace it with my tongue—

"Everything okay?" Sam asks, and his voice comes out gravelly, which makes my stomach flutter.

"Fine."

He pads closer. "Cakes?"

I finish dividing the batter and bend down to put the first tray in the oven. When I stand again, Sam jerks his head away, colour on his cheeks.

I resist the urge to breathe in, to check his scent. It really is rude, and he can't…

It doesn't matter. Even if he's looking, he and Adam have something going on, and I'm not about to do anything to change that.

"I bake when I'm stressed," I admit after I've put the second tray in. "Or bored. Restless."

Sam bites his lip before he looks up at me. "You shouldn't be stuck in here."

"There's enough going on right now that I don't need anyone worrying about me."

"Drew…"

I shake my head. "I'll be fine. Last night and the night before were just… a lot."

I cringe at my own words. It's not like I'm being framed for murder. Sam only hums in response, though, nodding like he agrees.

"I'll get Kieran to sort it out with Deacon," he says, and my heart thumps traitorously against my ribs. I don't know that I want that, not if it means I'll have to leave. "At least if he knows you're here, you can go out more easily."

"Okay."

He goes into the bathroom, and I look for my phone. I need to set a timer, especially since I'm not sure how old their oven is. I pre-heated it, but who knows how the cakes will turn out.

Snatching up my phone, my stomach turns when I see I have a new message.

Hale.

I'm coming for you, little prince. Be ready for me.

I delete the message and cross to the window, looking out. They're not out there—I know they're not—but they might be here soon.

I don't doubt Hale. He's not bluffing. Somehow, he's worked out where I am.

"Drew?"

Sam's voice is soft behind me, but his presence still makes me jump. I didn't hear him approach, and this time, it had nothing to do with his magic.

"Did you see something?" he asks.

I shake my head. I can't trust my voice right now, and I know Sam can tell something is wrong, really wrong, but I don't want him to ask.

Hale isn't here yet. Maybe he'll not come at all.

"Come sit," Sam says gently, and when he takes my hand, I shiver. I let him lead me over to the sofa and push me onto it, and only when he presses up against my side do I realise I'm shaking.

"What's going on?" he murmurs. He's careful where he touches me, but I still want to melt into each barely there press of his fingers. They skate the back of my neck and I drop my head forward, only to be rewarded with a firmer touch.

"I can't—It's nothing."

"You sure? You looked…" He trails off, but his thumb rubs over the nape of my neck. "You can tell me. I won't even tell Kieran if you don't want."

I can't ask him to do that. It's clear that, no matter Kieran's mating bond with Lucien, Sam is his closest friend. And vice versa, so far as I can tell.

"Really, it's… It's fine." I turn my phone over in my hands. I have to tell him something . "I got a text from someone at home. Just freaked me out."

"Are they coming after you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. "No."

Sam sighs. Does he know I'm lying, or is he glad I told him? He presses his forehead to my shoulder, lifting it again when I turn my head.

We're close enough that I can see flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. He studies my face in return, his full lips parting on an exhale that feels warm against my mouth.

I want him. I want him in a way I've never wanted anyone, except—

Sam jerks back before I can move, regret filling his eyes. "Sorry, I—You should check your cakes. I should get ready. Need to see the others."

I bite the inside of my cheek as he retreats, going back into his bedroom and shutting the door. When he's gone, I drop my head into my hands.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I don't know if it's from Hale or Sam or both or neither. Does it matter? I wipe them away with the heel of my hand and get to my feet, walking back into the kitchen.

The cakes aren't done, of course. It's not been long enough yet.

I set my phone on the counter and take a deep, shuddering breath. Sam's not for me. Adam isn't, either.

They've got each other for that.

Kieran comes out into the living room about ten minutes after I take the cakes out of the oven. I've pulled myself together enough that when I smile at him, there's not a flicker of concern in his expression.

Well, nothing beyond what's usually there.

"You're going to work?" I ask when he comes out of the bathroom. He rubs a towel through his dark hair. He keeps it shorter than mine, which falls shaggy to the nape of my neck. Maybe I can get it cut once we've got things sorted out.

"Yeah, gotta be at the gym soon." He goes back into his room but doesn't close the door and calls, "Didn't mean to sleep so long."

I don't really have a response to that, except to think I can't exactly blame him. From what I can tell, he's running himself ragged.

Maybe Lucien will tell him to slow down.

Whether he listens or not is another story.

I put some bread in the toaster anyway because it's clear he's planning on leaving without eating, and stay put when Sam comes out of his bedroom. He's wearing tight, artfully torn jeans, and a loose, silky shirt. A few buttons are open, and I know if he moves the right way, I'll spot the top of his tattoo again.

I turn away and get butter out of the fridge.

"Kieran's up?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" Kieran shouts. He rushes out of his room, still tugging a workout shirt over his head. Scars in the shape of claw marks peek out from under his waistband, and I know they cover his hip. He frowns when he takes Sam in. "You're going out?"

"I need to talk to Pris, Ophelia, and Dante. See what we can find."

"Can't they come here?"

Sam crosses his arms over his chest. "Pris won't," he says, and neither of them looks at me, but I wonder if I'm the reason for it. "And Ophelia and Dante's place is closer to her shop than here. I said I'd go talk to her, then go to theirs."

"Sam…" Kieran shoves his hair back from his face before he snatches up one of his shoes. "It's not safe for you to be walking around on your own. If they're after you—"

"Tristan was after you."

"Yeah, and I had a vampire up my arse every time I went out after dark," Kieran shoots back. "Plus, I at least knew what Tristan looked like. We have no idea who this mage is."

"You're going to work alone."

"There's no proof they're after me."

Sam makes an irritated, frustrated sound, and I round the counter before I can think better of it, the plate of buttered toast in my hands. I thrust it at Kieran, who blinks up at me before he takes it.

"Thanks."

"I could go with him." I look at Sam. "I could go with you."

I don't have to look at Kieran to know how his face twists—I'm fairly sure he and Sam are wearing the same expression. "Drew…" Kieran begins.

I don't want to ask for anything for myself. I understand Kieran's worry—I'm terrified some mage will pop up out of nowhere and decide to hurt Sam—but Sam can defend himself, too.

"I want to go outside," I say quietly, turning back to Kieran. "I won't go all the way to—They won't want me there. But I can make sure Sam's okay."

Two against one… Never mind that I hate fighting and that I've never gone up against a mage in my life. I think Kieran knows that. He has to know Sam's the stronger of the two of us.

"If anything happens, you get back behind the wards," he says after eating one of the slices of toast. He looks between me and Sam. "And I mean both of you."

"Fine," Sam snaps back. If anything, he looks more annoyed than he did a minute ago, and a stone sinks in my stomach when I realise I might have made things worse.

"I'll be back at six, but I've got work again at seven," Kieran says. "If I miss you, I'll see you after eleven, okay?"

"Okay," I reply.

Kieran puts the empty plate on the counter before he leaves the flat. I don't dare look at Sam. If he insists on going without me, I'll let him.

"Drew?" Sam's voice is closer, and I force myself to turn, though I can't meet his eyes.

He takes another step towards me. I'm looking at the floor, at my own bare feet, and gasp when he takes hold of my chin. His hand is warm, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Look at me," he says, and I lift my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"What for?"

"I didn't—You don't need me to—"

Sam studies me for a moment. "You're right," he says, and I flinch. "I don't need you to protect me. Believe it or not, I don't need Kieran to, either."

I drop my eyes again. Oh, no. I've really messed this up—how am I supposed to—

"It's nice, though," Sam says, and I can't help the way my gaze is drawn back to his face. "I know it means you both care, even if your brother is an absolute dick about it."

He's still holding my chin. There's no reason for me to stay like this; Sam is practically half my size, and he's really not holding on that tightly, but his touch is grounding.

He looks at me like he can read something in my face that even I don't understand. After a long moment, he gives me a decisive nod and steps back. "You can walk me to the tube."

"Okay."

I move to grab socks, to find my jacket, but Sam's next words make me stumble.

"You can ask for things for yourself, Drew. We'll give you whatever you want."

We pass through the wards, and I inhale a deep breath of chilly air, letting the freshness of it pass through me.

Well, the relative freshness of it. Sam smiles and nudges me before he starts walking.

I miss being outside. Even Dad's worst punishments never involved being locked up indoors, though I don't blame Kieran for it. I think he only agreed to let me go out because it's the middle of the day. The vampires who run this district won't exactly be out and about.

"You're going to see Pris?" I ask.

Sam nods. "Her magic isn't quite like mine, but she knows a lot more than I do. I'm hoping she'll have some idea of how they got my magical signature. It's not something I've ever heard of anyone being able to do."

"And then?"

"I'll go spend some time with Ophelia and Dante." Sam smiles up at me. "They're both mages, too. Ophelia's… Her mum's a wolf. Her dad's got magic."

I frown. "You mean, Kieran could have…?"

"Yeah, can you imagine?" Sam shakes his head. "He'd be even more of a disaster if he had magic."

I make an amused sound and Sam laughs in response, shaking his head again. "It's just one of those things, I guess. We'll see if we can track the other signature, too, though considering how bad we were at it with Tristan, I don't think that'll get us anywhere."

"And then you'll come back?"

"Yeah. Of course."

We walk the next couple of streets in silence before Sam looks up at me again. "So, got any other special skills up your sleeves?"

"What?"

"Well, you can cook. You can bake ."

I frown at him, and he shrugs. "I tried one of the cakes while you were putting your shoes on. They're good."

Heat floods my face. "I, uh… Thanks. But no. Just—Just that."

The only other thing I learnt to do was fight. To hunt. That's not what he wants to hear. It's not what I want to be.

"What about you?" I ask, trying desperately to steer the conversation away. "What do you like to do?"

"I draw," Sam says easily. "And I know you shouldn't do the thing you love because that makes it tedious, but the graphic design stuff is different enough to my art that I don't tend to mind it."

"What do you draw?"

"Anything," Sam replies. "Sometimes I paint, but I need time and space for that. Recently, it's been… difficult."

"Do you—" I hesitate but make myself plough on regardless. "Do you have any paintings in the flat?"

"Yeah." Maybe I'm imagining it, but Sam's cheeks appear a little pinker, too. Must be the cold. "You want to see?"

I nod eagerly. Too eagerly, but Sam laughs and leans into me again.

"Yeah, okay," he says. He lifts his face and I realise we've arrived at the tube station when he reaches out and squeezes my wrist. "I'll come back in a bit, and I can show you my paintings and you can show me whatever historical drama you've clearly watched a thousand times."

I do blush at that, but there's no meanness in Sam's voice. He squeezes my wrist again.

"Okay," I say.

He stares up at me for a moment too long, the air charged between us like it was back at the flat before he lets go and takes a step back. "Text Kieran when you get in," he says, voice gone serious. "Let him know you're safe."

I nod and Sam gives me an unreadable look before he turns on his heel and heads into the station.

I only wait for a few seconds before I begin walking back the way we've come. I'm so thankful I'm a wolf when I realise I didn't pay attention to our surroundings at all on the way here—at least I can follow our scent trail back.

For the first time in days, I feel… happy. Not just relieved, not calm, but happy. Maybe Sam and Adam are together, but I think we can be friends, and I'd like that.

I turn onto their street, smiling just a little, wondering which series I should show him tonight. Kieran gave me the rundown on all their streaming services when we were waiting for them to come back from the Council last night, and I know there are some Austen adaptations I haven't seen in a few years, plus a new, shiny one I've not seen at all—

I freeze just before I step through the wards. Every hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I feel eyes on me.

I whip around. The street is empty, and when I inhale, aside from the scents I recognise, I only pick out humans.

Hale can't be here. He just can't . I'd scent him if he were. I've been on alert for him for months.

I wait there for one, two heartbeats before I take quick, deliberate steps forward and through the wards. Sam's magic settles over me and I stop again once I'm through, searching the shadows on the other side of the street.

No one's there.

Maybe I'm just paranoid.

Still, when I let myself back into the flat, I close the curtains, just in case.