16. Sammie

CHAPTER 16

SAMMIE

L ewis is the storm and the fury all rolled into one. It only took a split second for him to kill three shadow witches. And the only thing I felt was grateful. Not scared or stunned—well, maybe a little stunned at the raw power he has when he needs it. I sit on the couch, nursing a mug of tea. He paces the living room floor, talking fast to Denver. I'm pretty sure there will be a worn path in the marble by the time he is done fussing.

Things have quickly gone from an inconvenience to dire. The power Anjelica had over me was nothing I have felt before. And what's worse, I had absolutely no defense against her. None. She could have easily stolen the air from my lungs, stopped my heart, or twisted my neck.

I could feel what she was capable of, and I could also feel she wanted me alive. For some reason, she needs me. Or wants me where she can control me. That's all I could garner from the bond she had to make with me to hold my useless ass on the chair. While she tampered with me like a spoiled brat with a new toy.

"Fine, I'll make the arrangements. You keep looking."

Lewis taps the screen on his phone and shoves it into his back pocket. A second later, he is standing in front of me. I stare mesmerized into the amber liquid of the warm tea, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

"Samantha?"

I close my eyes and hope if I wait long enough, he will leave and retreat to the study, like every other time he has since I came here.

"Look at me, Samantha." His voice is gravel.

Tears burn behind my eyes, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. God, I am pathetic. Now I'm going to cry? When did I get so emotional? I keep my head down, and he steps back.

"I need you to pack your things. We leave in ten minutes."

I nod.

He leaves, heading toward his room. I push up from the sofa and pad to my room. Setting the tea on the dresser, I grab my bag and start shoving my clothes and things into it. How did things get so bad, so quickly? Grandma had told me stories about how shadow witches can interfere and ruin people's lives. I always thought they were just stories.

What about my studies? I cannot afford to miss class for however long. Why can't we stay here? At least then I could attend class virtually. If we end up somewhere with no internet, I will fall behind. I toss the piece of clothing in my hand onto the bag and storm from the room, stalking my way across the house and through the hall to Lewis's room.

His door is open. I walk in and prop my hands on my hips. "I can't leave."

He turns from his packing and moves into my space. I lift my head and let my gaze incinerate his.

"You don't have a choice, Sunshine."

"Stop calling me that."

"No."

"I can't afford to miss class. Unless you can guarantee me good internet service to attend class virtually, I'm not leaving."

He huffs a laugh and returns to his packing. "I don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed."

"I don't care what you feel; I'm not jeopardizing my studies for this."

His hands are still on his bag, and he growls, low and soft. "I am trying to keep you alive."

"Why? What's it to you if a shadow witch is hunting me, Lewis?"

He turns, slow, too slow. I step back, folding my arms across my chest, face screwing into concern.

I inhale.

He stands taller.

I exhale.

He is in my space, his face so close to mine, I can feel his breath, smell him, see his blood pumping through the veins in his now tight neck. His dark brown eyes study mine for a heartbeat. "How is it that you cannot comprehend this?"

"Maybe it's because you only give me half the information," I say, dropping my hands to my sides. My breaths shorten as my gaze leaves his eyes, and I study his face—his jaw, his lips, his throat as his Adam's apple bobs.

"What else do you need to know, Samantha?" he grinds out, leaning a little closer.

God, I so want to touch him.

My heart flings against my chest, and I swallow as I raise my eyes to meet his. Fire laces his, along with something far stronger. Desire.

Holy shit.

My breath stops.

"I—" I press a hand to his chest, and he closes his eyes. The thought that I would willingly go anywhere with this man slips past my rational mind. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere you want, Sunshine." Every syllable is raw. His body is wound tight, every muscle taut. I let my hand slide down his chest a little.

His breath stops.

"Lewis?"

"Mhmmm."

"Why do you call me Sunshine?"

He opens his eyes and meets my gaze, sucking in a breath. "One day I'll tell you." A small smile blooms on his face. He looks so happy. His eyes soften and he wraps a hand around mine, still on his body. I look down to where his skin touches mine. The front of his jeans bulges from his body responding to my touch.

Fuck.

I mean, Hail Mary, or whatever it is good girls are supposed to say instead of thinking about what I would find if he let my hand wander.

"Fine." I remove my hand from his and move out of his space. The heat that's been pooling in my center since I laid my hand on his body is almost too much to bear. "I'll be ready in five." I turn and head back to my room.

His door shuts behind me, followed by a soft thud, like his head met the wood, followed by a low groan. I chuckle.

At least it's not just me.

L ewis sits in Denver's truck, engine idling with a low rumble. Much like its current driver. I smile to myself. I throw my bag into the back before opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat.

"So, we can go anywhere I want?"

"If anywhere you want is an isolated cabin in the heart of the Alaskan wilderness, sure." He throws me a serious look.

I roll my eyes at him and groan. Great. Just great. How the hell am I supposed to study off-grid? "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," he says, shifting the stick and letting the truck roll forward. I know exactly how deadly Lewis can be. If he thinks we need to leave to be safe despite his unnatural ninja abilities, I guess we're leaving.

I flick Serena a text telling her I'm going away for a few days. I hate lying to her, but I don't want her involved in this. I stare out the window. Rows of pines fly past as we travel north toward Alaska. I shake my head at the thought.

"If you're worried about your studies, don't be. I can help you catch up or fix any papers you flunk on."

"What? I am not cheating my way through a degree."

"You would rather fail?"

"You know what I mean. How long will we be away? I need all the information you can give me. And"—I square my shoulders to face him—"any you have previously left out."

He glances at me, returning his focus to the road and his grip on the wheel tightens.

"Anjelica is after you and me. Me because of the curse. You because—" His pulse hammers in his neck. "You because she may assume you would be helping me."

"How could I help you?"

"Elemental witches can break the curse."

"What? You think I can break it?"

"No. I don't think you can."

"Thanks," I say flatly.

He looks at me, brows lowered. "Only an experienced or very powerful elemental witch can break it. Even then, it's dangerous. The magic used to bind the hex can be fatal for a witch not strong enough. I have seen it with my own eyes." The last three words drift off as if he struggles to say them out loud.

"Oh." I return to looking out the window. I grab my pendant and roll it through my fingers. How powerful would be powerful enough to cure his curse?

"What if she dies?" I say, surprising myself and startling Lewis.

"Who dies?"

"Anjelica. What if she dies? Are you released from it then?"

"Maybe, I don't know. No one seems to. Don't worry about it. Keeping you safe is more important." His eyes don't leave the road.

So, Lewis knows what I am. Why didn't he insist I try to help him when we first met? Can vampires have a conscience? Kindness? Does he have a soul? I lay my head back and let the hum of the engine lull me to sleep.

F our days later, we roll down a narrow driveway toward a log cabin. Rustic would be an understatement. It's white everywhere. Snow covers everything. I shiver in my seat, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. Even with three layers ending with my warmest coat, I am still cold.

Every breath creates a cloud in front of my face. Lewis parks and kills the engine. I crack the truck door open and step onto the glittering white ground. The tall pines surrounding the cabin in every direction are adorned with piles of snow, their branches weighed down under the icy mounds.

"Get yourself inside before you freeze to death," Lewis says, walking around the back and grabbing up the bags. I pad up the three steps to the porch and grab the knob on the front door. It's unlocked and opens. Huddling in my coat, I walk inside to find a small wooden kitchen and a large hearth with a sofa in front of it. A throw blanket that looks deliciously warm hangs over the back of the sofa.

Three doors are dispersed along the wall to my right. I try the first one. Toilet. Next door, a large shower and vanity sit. It's clean and light. Third door is a bedroom. A queen bed with a small dresser and two bedside tables are the only furniture in the room that reaches to the back of the cabin. The back wall has a large window looking out to the forest and a large bare space between the trees. On the opposite wall to the bed is another hearth, a little smaller than the one in the living room.

Two bags thump to the ground by the door behind me. I turn back. Lewis is leaning on the doorframe, brows lowered.

"There's only one bed," I say softly.

"I'll take the sofa." His mouth moves to a thin line. His arms wrap around his chest, hands snug under his arms.

"Okay." I walk to where the bags lie at his feet and pick mine up. I huff a laugh, and he smiles a little, studying me before taking his to the dresser. I feel the crimson heat crawl up my neck.

Shit.

Playing house with that face is going to be the end of me.

Three drawers make up the piece. He opens the second one and starts unpacking his things into it. When he's done, he stores his bag in the small closet by the door to the en suite. He moves back to the door and places both hands on the frame above him. His sweater lifts, exposing the sculpted lines of his stomach and the outline of muscles making a V that disappears behind his belt and jeans.

"You take the top drawer. I'll light the fires."

I offer back a smile. He studies my face for a moment before he releases his hold on the doorframe and walks into the living room.

Goddess save me.

After a minute, I remember what I was doing and dump my bag onto the bed and start packing my clothes into the top drawer. The front door opens and shuts. A moment later, Lewis appears with an armful of snow-dusted split logs. His forearms flex with the movement as he lowers them into the wood storage box.

With all my things unpacked and laptop set up on the kitchen table, I try to create a hotspot from my phone. It barks back at me. No service. Crap.

"You can get some service in town. We have to go in for food tomorrow. There is enough in the pantry for tonight," Lewis says as he stacks the wood into the hearth in a triangle fashion. A few moments later, the fire is blazing. I could have helped with that.

He wanders to the kitchen and opens a cupboard. I tap on my phone and hold it above my head, desperate for even one bar of service.

"It's no use, Sunshine." He hands me a glass of red wine.

I eye the glass and its contents for a moment before plucking it from his fingers. They brush against mine, and the warmth of them makes me crave more of his heat. I take a long sip of the wine and swallow. It burns all the way down, and I cough. He sips his wine before making his way to the sofa.

I follow and sit on the opposite end, not trusting my body not to go hunting for his warmth again. He stares into the fire, quiet. I pull the blanket around my shoulders and take another sip. Relishing the heat it brings. My shivers subside, and I tuck my feet under myself and lean back onto the sofa. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all.

Stuck in a snow-covered cabin with wine and a gorgeous guy. Most girls I know would die for this. The thought is followed immediately by the realization that the reason I am here is to stay alive. Dying is a very real possibility for me.

I let my gaze wander to Lewis and study him, every inch of him. His sleeves are pushed up, forearm working as he takes another sip. The overwhelming desire to straddle his lap, grab his face with both hands, and plant my mouth on his is burning me up from the inside. Heat pools in my stomach, low. My breath hitches and my heart paces up a storm. He turns and stares at me, eyes darkening, blackness filling up almost every part of his pupils. His jaw tenses.

I raise a hand and glide my knuckles over the tensed part of his face. He flinches, stands, and places his glass on the small side table. He's so fast; I don't even see him leave. The open door bangs against the wall. Frigid air rushes in, filling the room, chilling the space where he sat and the part of my heart that had finally opened to him.

The part I had been fighting to keep shut for weeks.