6. Sam

Chapter six

Sam

The next day, I wake closer to midday than I'd like. It's hardly surprising; Adam and the others didn't leave until nearly daybreak. What surprises me most is that I've not woken to a nightmare, and for a few minutes, I simply lie there, staring up at the ceiling.

We spent the rest of the night avoiding mentioning Tristan, which I'm surprised worked at all considering that Drew, once he did start chipping into the conversation, asked mainly about Lucien and Kieran. Maybe I'll ask Kieran about that, or maybe I'll leave it up to Elle. She seems like she might give him an earful about keeping us in the dark the next time she sees him.

I don't know what possessed me to slide in next to Drew when he started panicking about becoming a lone wolf. Gods, I pressed up against his side, but then he looked my way, some of the worry leaving his expression and I…

I didn't want to be anywhere else.

He looked less worried when he noticed Adam's eyes on him, too. As if the vampire had stopped watching him all night.

I turn onto my side. The whole flat sounds still and quiet. Am I jealous? A bit, maybe, but more because I want Adam's attention as well, rather than that I don't want him looking at Drew.

I want Drew's attention too, and that thought has me turning my face into my pillow so I can let out an annoyed groan. Fucking hell. What is wrong with me?

It helps that, despite being vastly different from each other, they're both exactly my type. Bigger than me, physically stronger…

Absolutely willing to get on their knees. I'm certain of it.

A shiver runs through me. I want to look after them. I want to protect them.

I want to take them to pieces.

I sit up, frustrated and annoyed at myself, and climb out of bed, stopping only to tug on a pair of jogging bottoms before I stalk out into the living room.

Drew stirs as I open my bedroom door, but I beeline straight for the bathroom. Inside, I wash up and try to talk some sense into myself. I need to get it together. We've got bigger problems than my fucking libido, and if that means I have to… do something about it, then that's what I'll have to do.

My stomach sours at the thought of picking up anyone else and I roll an eye at my reflection.

"Get it together," I mutter, then glance at the bathroom door.

Okay, I hope Drew didn't hear that .

I take a deep breath before I step out into the living room again. Drew's digging around in his bag and my mouth waters at the way his muscles move under the thin T-shirt he's wearing.

"Tea?" I ask.

He jerks his head up, mouth open to reply, but freezes when his eyes land on me. His gaze runs over my bare chest, the tattoo that runs down my middle, and though I can't tell if he likes what he sees, I want to preen all the same.

I clear my throat and his gaze jerks up to mine before it snaps away, colour flooding his cheeks. "Uh… Yes. Please. I mean, I can make it."

"I've got it."

I flick on the kettle, keeping my back to Drew as I grab our mugs and try to get myself under control. I should've put a shirt on, sure, but this is still my flat and it's not like I'm intentionally trying to… I'm not…

I grab a third mug and put it next to our two, and Kieran emerges from his bedroom as I start pouring the water. He's done in the bathroom by the time I've made the tea, but Drew shoots in there before I can pass him his.

Kieran raises his eyebrows as the door all but slams shut. "He okay?"

"I think so," I say. "I didn't… do anything."

Kieran hums, taking a sip of his tea. We're both quiet for a moment in a way we haven't been for a long time.

I'm the one who breaks the moment. "How do you think last night went?"

Kieran shoots a look at the bathroom door, and I almost offer to use magic to make sure Drew can't overhear. I don't know everything about wolves, but I know their senses are better than ours.

Well, mine. I don't know what Kieran's are like at all.

The shower flicks on and Kieran turns his attention to me again.

"I think it was okay, right?" He chews the inside of his cheek. "I mean, no one yelled. No one really freaked out."

I huff a laugh. "Because Adam was the only one who hadn't already figured it out."

"Yeah. I guess it was kind of obvious after all the injuries."

"Were you expecting me to not figure out that Drew's a wolf?"

Kieran grimaces, pausing his mug on the way to his lips. He sets it down. "I'm sorry," he says. "Last night, all I was thinking was… I don't know why I didn't say anything earlier. I told Lucien over a week ago. I should've told you, too."

It's not like I've got a high horse to climb on. My own secrets are deep scars and I know what it means to expose them, even to light that might just help them to heal.

Besides, Kieran being related to wolves hasn't put us in danger.

My secrets have.

"Don't worry about it," I say and look him in the eye to let him know I mean it. "We all know what we need to, right?"

"Right," Kieran says, with a firm nod. "I just… with Drew. I don't want to worry him while he's here. Not right now, anyway. If he finds out what happened with Tristan…"

Yeah, I get it. "You think he's running."

The shower shuts off and I stop talking. Kieran nods, though, in answer to my statement. It's been clear from the get-go, hasn't it? Whatever Drew's running from seems far more urgent than what I remember of Kieran's first days in London. They've both mentioned their father, but I can't help my suspicion that there's something else behind this.

I don't have long to dwell on it. Drew exits the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist and I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I greedily take in miles of tanned skin. Drew wears his scars with no self-consciousness, claw and teeth marks eerily similar to those on Kieran's skin.

"Sorry," Drew mutters, and I look down at my mug when I realise I've been staring. Has Kieran noticed? Has Drew? "Left my stuff out here."

He grabs a neatly folded pile of clothes from the sofa, almost running back into the bathroom again. Kieran sighs, pushing a hand through his hair.

"I tried to get him to take my room."

"Seems like that went well."

His lips quirk, but the promised smile never forms. He glances between me and the bathroom, then lowers his voice, stepping closer. "I don't—I don't really know what to do ."

I open my mouth but close it before I can say something flippant. It's not like Kieran's never trusted me with anything before—we've been friends and flatmates for over ten years—but never with something so personal.

"It'll be okay," I say finally, meeting his eyes so he knows I mean the words. "I don't think he does, either. You'll work it out together."

Kieran stares at me for a long moment before he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

I leave the flat not long after that. One emotional moment per day is about all I'm really up for, and besides, the way Drew is hunched and flinching has me itching to get my power back up to where it used to be.

If nothing else, I can protect him. I have no doubt whatever he's running from is real , whether or not it's still chasing him. If I'm in top form, there'll be little that can slip by us.

Pris is serving a customer when I enter, some young guy with only the barest lick of magic. His eyes widen when he sees me, and he finishes paying quickly before he scurries out the door.

Oops. I rein in my own magic a little, and Pris laughs. She passes me, too, flipping the sign on the door to closed to give us some privacy.

"It's a wonder you get any business when you do that all the time."

"It's a wonder I get any business when you come in here with magic coming off you like that." She tilts her head to one side, studying me. "Everything okay?"

I sigh, thinking over my answer. I remember, suddenly, Adam lying on a bench, bleeding from a wound that never would have closed if I hadn't been there to help.

It wasn't enough, though. I didn't stop Tristan that night—didn't even slow him down when he and Nora appeared at my wards, an unconscious Kieran between them.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. Pris' narrowed eyes tell me she doesn't believe me, but I don't expect her to. "Listen, I was wondering if there was something you could help me with."

Pris nods and waves me into the back room. "Is everything all right with the others?"

What am I supposed to tell her? Drew looks haunted, hunted . Kieran's struggling with understanding who he is.

"Everyone's good. Just getting settled."

"Did you—I mean, does he—"

"Kieran's definitely mentioned you," I say, taking a seat. "It's a lot, right now."

Pris sits in the chair opposite. "Yeah. What do you need?"

"I was just wondering if you had any idea of somewhere I could train. Not too far would be great, but I can travel if I need to."

"Your magic?"

"I can't let them down again."

She hums, eyeing me for a minute. I'm glad she doesn't try to refute the statement, even though I know she wants to.

I've never told her my surname. Of all the people I've met over the past fifteen years, Kieran's the only one to have heard it. Part of me is still on edge, expecting him to ask, and over the last week, I've noticed him eyeing me like he wants to.

He hasn't, though. It's why I've decided to be so magnanimous about his own secrets.

Still, the point is that I need to train. I need somewhere isolated, somewhere I can draw and release magic without worrying about a stranger walking into it. Places like that are difficult to come by in a city like this, but if anyone knows of one, it'll be Pris.

"There's a series of abandoned warehouses not far away," she says. "Would that work?"

"They're not being used for anything now?"

"No. One is warded already, if you wanted to use it."

"Why?"

Pris smiles. "Similar reasons you're after it, I think. I didn't ask; I just set up the wards, but the person who was using it left a long time ago. You can replace them with your own."

"Thanks." There are so few of us now, and the thought makes my stomach twist.

You know why that is.

Pris busies herself searching for the key and I push the thought away. There's no changing the past. I know that.

"Here," she says, sliding it across the table to me before she gives me the address. "You shouldn't see anyone else out there, but I've not been there for a while. Be careful."

I leave half an hour later, heading straight for the warehouse. The closer I get, the more the magic around me seems to reach for me as if it knows what I'm planning to do.

I can't let any of us be taken unawares like that again. Especially not now. I won't risk Adam again. I won't risk Drew at all.

"Enough," I mutter to myself as I turn onto the outskirts of the abandoned industrial park. Every building here looks to be in disrepair, but I can't see any signs of life, and when I send a ripple through the magic, I can't sense anyone, either.

Maybe this will be enough to get my head back on straight.

The warehouse Pris mentioned is easy enough to find. It's the only one that's warded, and it's saturated with her signature and another I don't recognise.

Though the wards are still fairly strong, they're beginning to degrade. I twine magic around their anchor points—only two, on either side of the building—and pull them apart, wondering if whoever set them might feel it.

Maybe not. Pris' magic isn't fae-blessed, it's human, and so is the signature of the other mage. Mine is different. All our families' magic was different.

Once the wards are down, I pull open the door and let myself inside. The building is huge, its ceilings tall, and cold air rushes through broken windows, making my coat swirl around my calves.

The room is empty of any furniture, and aside from dust coating every surface, it's relatively clean. I shrug off my coat, letting it drop to the floor.

Magic surges towards me when I reach out, buzzing through my entire body. I grin, tipping my head back as I close my eyes. Oh, I missed this. It's been years since I last let my magic free—attacking Nora had unleashed part of it, sure, but this here?

I take a slow, careful breath before I pull magic in, as much as I can until it feels like every cell of my body is going to vibrate apart.

Too much.

Too dangerous.

I laugh, uncaring. I'm not about to keep it.

It's the work of a thought to shape it, to thin it out, make it harmless so that when I pull it in tight, imagining all that power as a shining, glowing ball, it trembles in my core. I open my eyes. Another breath, and that power unleashes, surging out of me, through this building and the next and the next, giving me a perfect understanding of everything that's here without risking harm to a living creature.

I release another breathless laugh when I'm done, rocking back on my heels. Magic still brushes against my skin, begging for attention like a neglected pet, but I feel more balanced now as the initial restless urge subsides.

The whirling, confusing thoughts I've been having for the past few days are already beginning to settle. I take another deep breath. When I raise my arms, magic curls into my skin, burrowing deep.

I need to train. I need to be strong again.

I need to ensure I can protect all of them.