15. Lewis

CHAPTER 15

LEWIS

I run through dark spaces in the rows of pines. The crescent moon hangs above the canopy. Feet hardly touching the ground, fire eats me from the inside out. That was the closest I have ever been to losing self-control. Samantha in my T-shirt, no underwear, dancing around. It was like watching the sun explode and loving every second it rips you apart as it turns into a black hole.

I catch the scent of a large animal. The musty, fur-filled, warm blood scent penetrates the burning desire commandeering my body. I take in lungful after lungful of the crisp forest air, letting every earthy aroma distract me from what I want. Samantha.

I don't want to bite her.

I don't want to feed on her.

I want her.

All of her.

Every fucking inch of her.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I slide to a halt, leaving a long path of debris worn into the ground. I slam a fist into the nearest tree. Sleeping birds scatter, squawking in disgust. The scent from moments ago is much stronger. I search the area. A black bear is making its way through the trees to the north of me. I stalk around it for a minute. Its heart pounds in its oversized chest. I pad over to where it eats. It startles and rises to its two back feet, towering over me. Good.

I step closer.

It swipes at me, and I snatch it up with one hand, crushing its bones. It howls, throwing its head back. I lunge, sinking my teeth into its thundering neck vein. Warm copper drenches the front of my shirt, turning white Armani to bleeding red. I suck the life from it in seconds.

The fire in my core remains. The only way to satiate it is currently walking around pantie-less in my house. I run both hands through my hair before dragging them down my face, not caring that I'm running the animal's blood through my hair and all down my face. I roar, the last of the wildlife fleeing around me. The sound echoes around the dark forest.

I make my way to a small stream trickling between the ridges and bend down. The turbulent water throws a distorted, tortured version of my face back at me. But that's how I feel.

Tortured.

Tormented.

Wanting someone so desperately, it physically hurts to be in her space without touching her. Without devouring her with my mouth, hands, and whatever part of me I can. Fire courses through my veins when she is close to me, and it is ten times worse than the scorching heat of hunger at the back of my throat. I fall back onto my seat and hang my head. These are dangerous thoughts. Ones that see her and me pay the highest price if we are caught.

Part of me thinks the risk would be worth the mating bond and all it means. But this isn't a one-sided affair. She has a choice. If her choice is not me, I will find a way to sever the bond. I will let her go. I won't let Samantha suffer. That would be the hardest thing for me to endure.

Sunshine shouldn't be smothered by storm clouds and snuffed out like it's not the most beautiful thing in existence. As if reminding me of my current situation, the moon appears from behind traveling clouds. Its beams pierce the rough waters, scattering light over the smooth round rocks on the stream's undulating, earthy bed.

I inhale, deep and slow. Vampire. Just short of the tree line on the other side of the stream.

Curious.

The hood over their head prevents me from seeing their face, but by the long, wavy locks of brunette hair and the hourglass shape... Female.

It isn't unusual to come across other vampires from time to time. But this one is somehow familiar. She turns and disappears into the trees, and I let my gaze drop back to the water.

Perhaps I should let the curse play out. Then she will be safe. No bond to put her in the firing line of the Council. And whatever Anjelica wants with her will surely dry up after she has no reason to stay here, and I'm gone.

Resolved, I push up to my knees and lean over the stream, washing my hair and face clean of the half-dried blood. I wander back through the pines for a while before picking up the pace to get home.

The house is quiet. Dim light from inside spills onto the porch, and I open the front door. Closing it behind me, I walk to the kitchen. It's spotless, everything that had been spread over the counter earlier must have been cleaned and packed away. A lamp is on in the living room and a light is on in the hallway leading to my side of the house. My blue shirt is folded up, sitting on the counter.

My gut drops. Did she leave? I didn't check to see if her car was still here. My heart thunders in my chest. I snatch up the shirt, and her scent hits me. The heat in my core from earlier bursts to life. I track my way to her room and halt short of the door.

It's open.

She's asleep. Her heartbeats slow and steady, her breaths shallow. Golden curls are sprawled over the pillow. I let my gaze wander over her neck, her collarbone, the undershirt she must have found somewhere in lieu of my shirt.

I lock my jaw. The thought of her feeling hurt by our interaction claws at my gut. I step into her room. She stirs, as if aware of my presence even in her sleep.

"Samantha?" I choke out.

She rolls over and brushes hair from her face. In the dim light, the features of her face are so elegant. I move to the bedside and stare down at her as she lifts her eyes to meet mine.

"What is it?" Her voice is raw from sleep.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

Her brows pull down as she pushes to sit up, folding her arms over her chest. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why are you sorry? That would imply you care."

My breath hitches. Of course, I care. That's the fucking problem.

"Why would I not care, Samantha?"

"You're not giving off warm and fuzzy vibes, Sullivan." She sighs and leans against the headboard. Her hands fall to her lap. The rounds of her chest rise and fall with every breath. The fire turns to lava in my center, and I move a step back.

She tilts her head as if to say ‘see, my point exactly.'

"It's not that I don't care. I only have so much self-control. I don't won't to hurt you."

"So, you are an arrogant ass because you're trying to protect me?" She scoffs. "Does that work, Lewis? Do girls fall for that crap?"

"Girls?"

"Women, whatever, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do, and I wouldn't know, Sunshine. I don't go around throwing out lines for whatever nefarious purpose you seem to have dreamed up in your head."

And we are back to square one.

Fuck.

This girl—this woman—is going to be the death of me.

I curb the urge to laugh out loud, acutely aware of the irony of the thought, and walk to the door, not looking back. "Get some sleep, Sunshine."

Her heart rate spikes. I have no control over the corners of my mouth pulling up into a gratuitous half smile as I walk to my room.

My room is smothered by her scent. It's fucking everywhere. In an instant, my body is tense. I pull the shirt from my back and toss it to the chair by the door. I slip into the en suite and loosen the buckle on my belt before unzipping my jeans and letting them crash to the marble floor. I turn the knobs and wait for steam to fill the room.

Stepping under the hot water, I feel every single drop blasting from the shower. The intense pressure of the water does little to curb the hardness that developed the minute I stepped into my room. I can't stop the visions of her in my shirt running on repeat through my mind. If I don't find release soon, I will lose it completely.

One hand on the tile above my head, I grip my hard length. Imagining lifting my shirt from her gorgeous curves and over her head, I close my eyes. Oblivion follows.

T he smile plastered on her face is fake. Samantha passes me the rack of toast and the butter. She has been up for a while, by the looks of the feast piled on the dining table. Guilt pangs in my chest. After all the moments we have shared, this is how she responds when I hurt her. My heart cracks.

She busies herself with buttering toast before spreading jam over the top. Biting into it, she nods toward my food. I pick up a slice and bite into it, not taking my eyes from her and hoping my face isn't giving away my every thought.

"You don't like toast?" she asks.

I swallow the mouthful and place the slice on the plate. "I like the breakfast. I didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

"Something bothering you?" Her eyes are laced with worry.

"Not your concern. Eat up. We are leaving in ten minutes."

"You go ahead. I don't have class 'til eleven."

"No. We go together; that's the whole point of you being here. To be safe."

"I am not going to get into trouble between this house and the university parking lot."

"I'm driving you, end of story."

"No! There is no end in sight, Lewis." She stands, knocking the table. The jug of juice she put out wobbles before settling. "I'm not some defenseless human you can boss around. I can look after myself." She looks to the floor; she doesn't believe her own words. Slowly, she lifts her gaze and sighs. "Besides, it's only twenty minutes from here to school, what could possibly happen?"

I tilt my head to one side and curb a growl, the frown on my face sees one grow over hers.

"I'm driving myself, Lewis. That's the end of this story!"

I throw my hands up in defeat. "Fine."

I can get home in two minutes and tail her as she drives to school.

She narrows her eyes. "Really?"

"Really. You're on your own, witch."

She pokes her tongue and screws up her face at me. I laugh so hard she stops frozen, her face slack and lips parted. That face was hilarious and gorgeous rolled into one elegant pout. It's the happiest sliver of a moment I have had for decades.

She shakes her head at me and stalks out.

A fter leaving alone and parking Den's truck at work, I ran home through the woods and backroads until I was hanging out in the secluded bushy forest short of my own house. I can imagine Denver's smug face if he saw me right now.

By 10:55 a.m., Samantha pulls into the parking lot, and I make my way to my lecture hall, waiting for her to file through the doors with the rest of her cohort. She trails behind the rest of the class. I wander toward the door and greet students as they enter. Their confused responses remind me this is not my normal behavior.

Samantha steps into the room and stops as she looks me up and down. Her face pinches, and she tries to suppress a smile, but it wins, lighting up her face. She reaches toward my head, and I flinch, waiting for the heat in my core to scorch through my skin.

It flickers and quietens as she closes the space between us. Her hand brushes my hair. She lowers it in front of my face. Between her fingers is a small twig adorned with green pine needles.

"All by myself, hey?" She grabs my hand and turns it palm up, dropping the twig onto it. My heart is flinging against my chest so hard, I'm sure the entire room can hear it.

"Better safe than strung up by Anjelica or some demented demon." I curse under my breath as she walks away. She turns back before walking up the steps to her usual spot in the center row. Her face has transformed to stone. I have officially pissed off Samantha Williams. After her peace offering of breakfast this morning, I would feel guilty, if it wasn't for the fact her staying alive is far more important than her feelings today.

I start the lecture with a warning about the upcoming midterm for this class before diving into the content on the slides. Students sit, shifting in their seats occasionally as we cover the intriguing topics of first year archaeology linguistics. I catch Samantha's gaze, and she forces a satirical smile before dropping her gaze to her notepad. Back to our tense peace truce, it is.

The air in the room plummets. Students look around for the draft, hugging their arms around themselves. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Only one thing is preceded by a frigid drop in temperature—a shadow witch spell.

Fuck.

I connect with Samantha's focus. Her eyes are wide, stunned. She sits frozen in place on her seat. Through the muddle of beating hearts, I try to home in on hers. It's fast. Too fast.

She knows what's happening. Tendrils of dark fog drift into the room from the seam where the floor meets the wall, before it begins to also spill down the walls.

"Everybody out!" I yell.

Students fly from their seats, screaming about fire and smoke. Samantha sits, unable to move, fear lacing her eyes. I usher out the cohort, pushing stragglers through the door. I rush to the center row and lay a hand on her face. She whimpers and tries to speak.

"Shhh." I press a finger to her lips.

The gut-churning feeling of helplessness rages through my body. I grab her under the arms, lifting her from her seat. She screams in pain, and I lower her back down.

"It's no use, Lewis. You can't shift her."

Anjelica.

Fuck.

I spin back at her words. A second later, I have the shadow witch pinned to the front wall of the lecture hall with one hand. "Let her go." The words roll out of my throat with a low rumble.

Anjelica tries for a strangled laugh, and I hoist her up the wall further. It's too easy. She curls her hands and the blood in my veins turns to barbed wire. Pain rips through every limb. I sink to my knees in front of her. She lands on her feet and smooths out her clothes, a smirk on her face.

Another whimper leaves Samantha's lips.

I growl, curling my hands into fists, and lunge at Anjelica. Pain lances through my blood, flesh, and bone. But the force of my fist to her chest penetrates whatever magical defenses she has around herself.

Crack.

Her face falls in shock. Even the best shadow witches are no match for us when a mate is provoked to protect their bonded. I will rip her limbs from her fucking body if she doesn't let Samantha go. "Let her go. Now, Anjelica!"

"Fine," she pants through short breaths, "she can go. But you stay."

She straightens, recovering too quickly. "Ugh, you vampires are so dramatic with your bonds, so ridiculous."

Shut the fuck up, witch. The last thing I need is this demented bitch spilling something I'm not ready for Samantha to hear.

I step back and jump over the chairs to where Samantha sits. I grab her under the arms. This time, she is limp and pliable. Once I have her up from the seat, I scoop her up and take her to the door.

"Lewis," she rasps.

"It's fine. I'll be out in a moment." I force a small smile and nod.

"Okay?" Her brows pinch, and she grips my shirt. I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to ignore the flames licking at my insides with her against my chest. Her scent surrounding me. Her skin on mine.

I put her down and steady her with both hands. She steps out of my hold and wraps her arms around herself, eyes scanning her surroundings. Smart girl.

I storm inside, ready to take on Anjelica or face my fate. I stop. The room seems empty.

"Does she know?"

I spin, following the voice. She sits in the furthest chair at the top of the tiered seats. Checking her fucking nails as she dangles the top half of her body over the back of the chair in front of her, one leg crossed over the other twisted to one side.

"Know what?" I growl, knowing perfectly well what she is asking. How the hell did she find out?

"Does the witch know she's your mate?"

"What do you want, Anjelica?" I grind out. Tingling starts in my fingers, and my gut flips. Jesus Christ, could this get any worse?

"Oh, just one more thing."

A scream penetrates the wooden doors.

Samantha.

Apparently, it can.

Her gaze flicks to toward the sounds. "And I have already acquired it. Honestly, Lewis, you make life so easy for me. It's so darling of you. Such a lovely lecture hall you have here, but I don't need to hang around." She vanishes from the chair and appears three rows in front of me. Standing with her hands outstretched, she twists her hands in a swirling motion. The wire from before hardens in my blood, contorting my body. Pain filters through me, and I gasp for breath, hunching over in agony before my knees hit the floor.

I fight my way back to my feet. The door opens and closes. Anjelica's hold on me eases. Samantha's friend Serena stands in the doorway. Her face is wrong. Instead of shock, she looks annoyed. They know each other. And well, by the way Serena shakes her head at Anjelica. The old witch curses at Serena and waves her off. She doesn't move.

Another scream.

Serena flinches.

I use the distraction to fly through the door and outside. Struggle sounds from the parking lot. I'm there in an instant. Three shadow scouts are manhandling Samantha into a van.

"Get off me!" she screams, kicking them. Every human stares, stunned. No, frozen. Anjelica has frozen them, immobilizing each one, so no one can help. They won't even remember what they saw. I take out the closest witch, tearing his head from his shoulders, before the others back off. I stalk into their space and grab their necks with two one-handed grips. Squeezing until their necks snap, I let them crash to the ground. I turn back to Samantha.

Fire dances in her palms, but her face is rigid with fear still.

"Samantha?" I hold both hands in front of me.

Her focus snaps, and she meets my gaze.

"We need to leave, right now," I say, lowering my hands. She nods and steps away from the van. Her hands ball to fists and the flames snuff to smoke. I grab her hand—it's still cool to the touch—and lead her to the truck. I open the door, and she slides into the passenger's seat without a word. I drop into the driver's seat and fire up the engine.

A moment later, we are flying down the asphalt. She gazes out the window. Her chest rises and falls with shudders. Saltiness fills the car. We can't stop until we are safely on our property. I push the old girl faster and wind up the one-way road faster than she ever has before. I park and kill the engine.

"Sam?"

She turns her head to face me. Tears streak down her face. Her hands tremble in her lap.

"Are you still in pain?"

She shakes her head.

I get out of the truck and come around to open her door. I offer a hand, and she slips hers into it. She rises on wobbly legs but forces herself to stand tall.

"We should get inside." I lead her behind me, her hand wrapped in mine still.

She gazes at the porch, looking at nothing. I lead her up the steps and open the door. She stops short of the threshold.

I turn back.

She swallows. "Thank you." Her words are barely a whisper.

I pull her into a hug, and she lays her palms on my chest, resting her cheek between them, her head under my chin. For the first time in weeks, the fire plaguing me in my core settles with her touch.

Like some sort of ironic joke on any male whose mating bond has snapped, the constant fire only ebbs when a female comes willingly, ensuring males behave. Something to do with the right type of endorphins. Denver's area of expertise, not mine.

I fold her in my arms and drop my face into her hair, breathing her in.

God, I could get used to this.