13. Lewis

CHAPTER 13

LEWIS

T he knock at our door comes after dark. As far as I know, we are not expecting any visitors. As I reach the door, her scent hits me, even with a wall of wood between us.

"Who is it?" Denver calls from the kitchen.

When I don't answer, he walks to the front door, stopping short at the sight of me trying to fight the instinct of the bond with every muscle in my body. Some days it's worse than others, and after our conversation today, it's driving me insane.

"Answer the door, Lewis." Denver's words mean business. His warning for me to get my shit together. I run a hand through my hair and ignore the blazing fire in my core, the fire lacing my veins. I grab the door handle and open it.

Samantha stands with her back to the door. Not the best position when she literally knocked on the door of a house with two residing vampires. She turns and her face twists into a frown, hands in her pockets, a bag on one shoulder.

"So, turns out, there is nothing free to rent—no apartments, no houses, no rooms, nothing. Everything is full because of the college influx." She chews on her bottom lip, waiting for a reply.

Denver appears at my side. "Come in, Samantha."

She smiles at him, and I step aside numbly. Denver glances at me, his face still carrying the warning he has given me my whole life: ‘be nice and behave.' At this point, I am barely holding it together. I have no choice other than to stay rigid and at least four feet from her. I force the vision of her scared face into my mind, and the intense embers crawling along my skin ease.

"Are you okay?" she asks as she walks past. The hair blowing around her shoulders drops as Denver shuts the door.

"He's fine. Are you okay? What are you doing here?" Denver says.

Samantha looks at me and back to Denver. "Lewis told me I couldn't stay in the house with Serena; the Council could send another demon. And I couldn't find anywhere else."

Denver's eyebrows shoot up, and I wince. I haven't had the chance to tell him about the outcome of last night yet.

"A simple text, brother; that's all it takes," he grinds out, shaking his head before turning back to Samantha. "You stay here. I won't have those morons interfering with every facet of our lives."

I grit my teeth, tensing my jaw. Our lives, as if Samantha is a part of it. I am trying my hardest to keep her out of it. It's for her own good.

She meets Denver's gaze and her face blooms with a small smile. "Thank you. Someone was tailing me. At first, I thought I was imagining things. But, an hour later, the same guy was still always a block behind me. I don't understand how Anjelica can invest so much into someone she knows so little about, or why the Council would be in our faces for associating with her."

"The Council?" Denver says, lifting an eyebrow.

I catch his eyes and shake my head so subtly Samantha won't notice.

"Ah yes, the Council, always butting in where they don't need to." He forces a smile, which is definitely not for my benefit, and gestures for Samantha to follow him as he walks into the living room. She follows and looks around the room, her face lit up with awe despite this being her second visit here. I follow them at least four feet behind and stop short of the sofa as they sit on opposite chairs.

"Did you see what the guy looked like?" I ask.

She looks up and her eyes dilate, her heartbeat quickening.

Shit.

I hammer down the thoughts and instincts that rear at her attention.

"Hoodie, light-colored hair, medium build. I wasn't close enough to get anything else."

I nod.

"If this isn't okay, I can leave. Maybe if I keep looking—" She rises.

"No, your first instinct was correct. You are safest here. Besides, Lewis could use some practice using his best social behavior." Denver looks at me, smirk smashed onto his face. She doesn't move to leave.

I am going to kill him for this. He knows exactly what he is doing, and how hard this is for me, being in the same space as Samantha. He is also acutely aware of what could happen if I can't control the persistent and overwhelming instincts the bond forces every minute she is close.

"Are you sure?" She is looking right at me still.

Her heart rate doubles.

If I didn't know better, I'd say the bond is mutual, that she is simply unaware of it or won't admit it. We are not exactly friendly toward each other. Her hand reaches for the pendant and hesitates before moving to grab the strap of her bag.

I suck in a quick breath. "It's fine. Stay out of my way."

Denver shakes his head at me and stands. "Come on, Samantha, I'll show you where you can put your things."

She follows him toward the hall to the left of the living room. She looks back, her face fallen, a glimmer of hurt lacing through her features. My gut twists. She turns back and follows Den down the hallway. I scrub both hands down my face.

Fuck.

An hour later, we sit around the old wooden dining table off the kitchen area. Denver and Samantha have cooked up a feast for three. Some kind of chicken that looks orange and well-seasoned, a green salad, a potato dish, and a pile of rare steaks sit on a plate by Den.

I'm glad they are having fun playing house together.

Sarcasm alights to envy, and I count through each breath that follows for the next few minutes. I am not jealous of my big brother. I am so sick of this damn bond. It would almost be easier to act on it; maybe then it would leave me alone for a few minutes. A good way to spend my last days, if we can't find an elemental witch who can break this insipid curse.

"Is your room comfortable enough?" I ask, my tone far from pleasant.

She stabs the chicken on her plate and pauses, staring at me. "It's fine, thank you."

Rigid politeness. Better than nothing. Better than her trying to talk to me. Better for her.

"You two are going to have to relax around each other if this is going to work," Denver interrupts the hard stares we have interlocked.

"If you say so." I bite the rare meat from my fork.

"Sorry, Denver." She blushes and glances at my brother before focusing on her food.

Blood thunders through my veins, burning like acid. I push my plate away and stand. I pluck my phone from the table and slide it into my back pocket. "I have work to do."

Denver curses under his breath as I make my way to the study.

We need to break this curse and find a way to eliminate the bond. Maybe an elemental can do both.

I have to try. Hurting an innocent person, even though she is technically a witch, is not an option. I'm not a fucking monster. Leaving my brother to fend for himself for the next however many centuries is also not an option. I need a solution.

And I need it now.

S amantha stands on my front porch, the light of early Saturday morning hovering behind her like an aura. Her face is tight, her jaw clenched, her blonde hair mussed, her arms wrapped around her chest.

"You're leaving," she chokes out.

This shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

"Yes. I don't know when I'll be back."

"What if someone comes to the house?"

The question is like salt to a wound, and my mind is grasping as my heart flaps in my chest.

"I don't know. I?—"

"We need to find someone to break the curse. Maybe a few days, a week, tops," Denver answers for me and walks to the car.

"What happens if you can't find someone to break it?" she asks.

I resist the urge to tuck a stray curl dancing in the wind behind her ear.

"I'll see you," I whisper before spinning on my heel and stalking to the car. Denver sits in the passenger's seat, staring at me. I feel so helpless.

The last thing I want to do is leave her alone. But it's not like we can take her with us. Even without the bond, her out and about will only attract Anjelica's attention. Besides, she would never agree to missing classes, and I don't know how long this will take.

Every inch of me is numb. More than ever, I wish I could protect her from the Council, Anjelica. From me.

So much.

I fire up the Mustang. But this time, the familiar, relaxing feeling of driving doesn't come. Instead, every mile away from home, from Samantha, this overwhelming wrong inside me grows. My hands are tight around the wooden steering wheel.

"Lewis, this may just be an observation, but I doubt this bond is one-sided, brother. She's your mate."

I turn to face him. His face is flat, his mouth a thin line.

"I know she is, Den. And that's what I was afraid of."

"Why?"

"I don't want that for her. It's not fair. She deserves better."

"She deserves to know the truth. Not some half-assed story about Anjelica and the Council. That was underhanded, little brother."

I study the rows upon rows of trees flying past. Lies never serve, and in the end, I could lose her for it. But if she is safe and not mine, she is still safe.

My Mustang peels down the highway toward Salem, hands gripping the wheel tighter the farther from Castleton I get. The moment the weathered Castleton sign disappears from my review mirror, heaviness drops in my gut.

Denver has been quiet the whole way since his early revelation, scrolling through his google searches, one after the other. As if you can google ‘where is the nearest elemental witch.'

It doesn't make any sense. Why is Anjelica hunting her? Samantha's magic is no asset to Anjelica. Why is the bond so strong between us? Maybe nature got it wrong. But, deep in my core, I can feel it. As if her existing is the only reason I do. That's what it's like. I've heard Denver describe it, and it's the same.

Usually, the bond is between two vampires, or sometimes a vampire and a witch. Strong witches can mate with us; the rest don't survive. I hope for Samantha's sake, if it comes to it, she is strong enough.

I push the thought from my head. Not happening. I will not allow it.

A gas station sits on the side of the highway, miles from anywhere. I pull in, startling Denver from his semi-conscious musings.

"You can't need gas yet?" he says, leaning over, eyes studying the dash.

"I don't. I need a break." I park and kill the engine. We haven't had anything to eat since last night, and it wasn't the nourishment we need. Having my nerves up has made my hunger worse. Denver reads my face and pushes his door open, joining me. The bell on the sagging glass-and-metal door chimes as we enter in one fluid motion.

"Can I help you boys find something?" An old man offers a smile, his flannel shirt and faded jeans stained with grease and dirt. Great, greasy old man. I was hoping for something a little younger.

Denver starts the dance, the one we always do when we divide, surround, and feed. I walk to where the old man stands behind his banged-up old wooden counter and rusted till.

"You need gas or something?" he says, a nervous laugh rounding out the last word, eyes darting between Denver's movements and me.

"Something like that," Denver says as he moves in behind the man silently.

The old man's eyes widen, hands gripping the bench. "Please, whatever it is you want, just take it and leave me be."

Denver tilts his head, as if examining the man's neck. A snarl rips through his lips, and he latches his mouth around the terrified man's throat, eyes rolling back in his head. I hold the old man's gaze, willing him to calm. Taking his fear and filling his mind with his most treasured memories. It is the least I can do for him.

His eyes flutter shut, and he slumps against the counter. Denver releases, wiping crimson from his mouth. I jump the counter and move to the other side of the man, giving my brother the briefest of nods before sinking my teeth into the wrinkled neck. Warm, salted, metallic liquid drains from his skin, and I gulp down every last drop. Ecstasy threads through my body with every mouthful. Ecstasy and strength.

I release the man's pale neck as a sedan pulls into the pumps. A young redhead gets out and shoves the pump into the side of her car. She leans against her near immaculate sedan, studying her nails impatiently, ignoring her surroundings. Denver nods, and I clean my face with the back of my hand. We loosen our hold on the gas station attendant, and he slumps to the ground, breathing raspy. The bell chimes again. This time, before the door closes, our next meal is already entrapped.

Denver lays her on the backseat of her vehicle. She will be fine in a few hours; we didn't take that much. One of our rules since integrating back into the normal population is no killing. It's not that we aren't capable of it, but it raises too much suspicion. I am done moving towns every few months. It's no way to live.

Denver drives her car from the pump to the side of the road as my thoughts wander back to this morning. Samantha's face as she realized I was leaving. Every part of me was screaming to turn back around. I can't leave her now. If Anjelica thinks she has something to do with the curse, she isn't safe. The heaviness that has hung in my gut all day twists. I have to go back.

"You coming?" Denver calls from the car, arms folded on the top of his door, his dark hair whipping around his face.

I walk back and sit in the driver's seat, staring through the windshield. "I have to go back."

"No. You need to get to Salem and find an elemental witch."

"I can't leave her unprotected if Anjelica is hanging around, Den."

"Don't be ridiculous. We are going to Salem. You need to break this curse, brother."

"You. You go to Salem. Text when you get there. Again, if you find anyone. I have to do this."

"Lewis, Samantha is safe at the manor. She is smart enough to stay there until we get back. Forget about the bond for five minutes, please!"

My fists curl by my sides.

He crossed the line.

The look on my face reflects in his and he concedes.

It's not the bond, it's her. Alone. With a guy hanging around, tailing her only hours ago.

"Fine, you go to her. I'll go to Salem. You better hope one of us is all it takes to find this elemental witch. We are running out of time." He walks to the driver's side. I extract myself from the seat and Den slides in, firing up the engine. The deep rumble lingers for a moment, and he gazes back at me in the rearview mirror. A second later, the rumble turns to thunder, and the Mustang flies down the highway, heading southeast.

I turn northwest and run.

Fast.