6. Lewis

CHAPTER 6

LEWIS

W ednesday. Samantha's day off. So why is she here in the campus library? The last few days have been torture, my every thought consumed by her, Anjelica, and the threat that is so raw that it makes my head spin. Watching her in class is like staring into the sun. Staying away has been like an endless night.

My phone pings. Den.

You know you're a stalker, right, brother?

Shut up.

I tap the reply button.

Pressing the lock button, I shove the phone into my back pocket and lean back on the shelving in the modern history section that conceals my position two rows down from where Samantha sits on her laptop at a study table. For the first time in decades, I have missed a lecture. This bond is driving me crazy.

Every time I had a go at Denver when his bond snapped comes flooding back to me. Now I feel like an idiot. I have minimum control over myself; every decision is murky. Nothing is clear unless she is in my sight. This got intense, fast.

I close my eyes, and her blonde hair and sweet face disappear from view. My gut flips. I open them as she leans into the screen in front of her. How is first-year content that interesting? I need to get closer. I slip from behind the shelving and move to the aisle behind her. If I could be sitting next to her, I would be.

What the hell?

I lean into the musty stacks and pretend to read a text on ancient languages, the book mostly concealing my face. From over her shoulder, I read the text on the website filling her screen. Mythological creatures of recent times. It's alphabetical. She is scrolling past the Ms.

A large brown leather book sits to her right. If I am right, it is a tome or grimoire of some sort. How did she find that in the library? I haven't seen one of those for around fifteen years. Her fingers brush over the trackpad of her laptop and hover as she reaches the Vs.

What is she looking for?

She's a smart girl. And if she's looking for something about me, she is about to find it. Running a finger downward, a quarter inch shy of the screen, she traces the list of traits for the vampire. Her breath stops as she leans back from the screen and sits frozen in the chair. I wish I could see her face. I mean, I could walk over and pretend to have bumped into her at the library. I do work here.

I replace the book on its shelf and adjust my backpack over one shoulder before running a hand through my hair. I step out of the stacks to where she sits. "Find anything interesting?"

Samantha jumps and turns in her seat, one hand grasping her necklace, the other falling onto the brown book beside her. I glance at it. A grimoire. I meet her wide-eyed stare as her volumes of curls bounce and settle over her shoulders. Her scent hits me. The tug in my core turns to a low heat.

"Mr. Sullivan. Ah, didn't see you there. Sorry, you—" She runs a gaze over my face, pausing on my mouth. Is she actually looking for fangs? "You scared me."

"Sorry, Miss Williams, that wasn't my intention."

She swallows, eyes traveling across my body. I track mine to her screen.

"So? Research for another class?"

Huffing a shy laugh, she slams the laptop shut.

When I raise an eyebrow, she blushes. "Not class, then?"

"Well, kind of. I'm examining traits of some mythological creatures. Sort of a side project of mine."

I pull out the seat beside her and dump my bag on the table. "I can help. I have a fair bit of knowledge in that area."

Samantha stares at me; the dark irises of her pupils dilate as her heart rate speeds up. The tug and fire in my core intensify, and I lean away a little, hoping to drown it out.

Sheepishly, she turns back to her laptop and opens it. I lean over toward the screen, and she picks up the brown book and shoves it back into her bag before looking back at me. "You don't have to help me. I haven't been all that receptive of your help."

I suppress my response and focus on her screen. "What have you found so far?"

"A bunch of information on vampires," she says, her eyes drifting from the screen to meet mine, "and most of the sources agree on the major details, such as lifespan, abilities, and sources of food."

"Uh-huh, and what details didn't line up for you?"

"Well, there is a note about how they mate, for life. One source says this is solid fact, the other... a little more vague."

"From all the information I have come across, they do in fact mate only once, and it's for life."

She turns to face me. "Where did you find that?"

"An older source than this. It isn't in public circulation."

"Oh," she utters, bringing her silver necklace to her mouth and pressing it between her lips.

My hands tighten around the back of the chair and the edge of the table.

I count her breaths, forcing my own.

"I guess it's all speculation, since they don't exist," she says, dropping the necklace and turning to face me.

"I guess—" I utter, watching her lips part, her chest rise and fall. Her pupils dilate further, and she swallows. My heart thunders in my skull, and I inhale her again. Fire explodes in my veins, a slight burning at the back of my throat. Shaking my head, I clear my throat. "What about witches?"

She stills.

"What about them?" Her arms fold over her stomach.

"What traits did you find on that species?"

Her gaze drags back to the screen and her hand trembles as she scrolls down a little further to W.

"Do they mate with only their own kind?" I ask.

Her breath stops and she doesn't answer.

"Samantha? Do they?"

"It is rare for them to mate with other species," she mutters.

"That's what I thought. Is there anything else you need help finding?"

She shakes her head. I force a smile and stand, picking up my backpack, shouldering it quickly. "See you in class, Miss Williams."

She nods, still staring at her screen. Her heart is racing so fast, it is the only sound that registers until I clear the heavy, wooden library doors.

Too close, Lewis.

Far too close.

I bite into the soft roll of my venison-and-salad lunch and try to savor the flavors despite the blandness coating my mouth. Samantha and her friend sit a few tables down, eating and chatting. She hasn't noticed my presence yet. She plucks the necklace from her chest, like she did in the library earlier today.

This time, it is surrounded by a soft glow. As is her friend's. The necklaces are identical in every way. She leans into her friend as they talk quieter, the pendant brightening on the chain. The light it gives off is so minimal it would be imperceptible to the human eye.

"He just appeared. Then he had the answer I had been looking for, about the species mating. It's only hearsay, since it's all myth, but it's freakily accurate, right?"

Her friend's brows draw down and she shakes her head. "There is no such thing, babe. Maybe you should concentrate on your actual subject content. You need to keep that scholarship, remember. As for the professor, girl, he is way, way out-of-bounds, and if you ask me, a little creepy. Besides, if they catch you two, you get kicked out and he gets fired. Please tell me you're not thinking about him?"

She leans away from Samantha and the pendants dull. Odd.

Her face reddens slightly, but I doubt her friend even notices. "No, of course not."

I train the growing smile from my face, flattening my mouth back to a thin line. Samantha's gaze drops to the table, and she shrugs, as if not wanting to commit to the statement either way.

"So, are you coming to the frat party this Friday? Jonas invited me, plus anyone I wanted to bring. You in?" her friend asks.

"Yeah, sure," she mutters, fixing her focus to her lunch but playing with it mindlessly.

Over my dead body is she going.

Sweaty, horny, barely adult males, all looking to sew whatever it is they are apparently allowed to sew. Oats. There will be no fucking oats anywhere near Samantha.

"Well, I have class. See you at home, babe." Her friend stands and walks away without looking back. Samantha sits, stirring the contents of her paper cup with a wooden spoon. Her heartbeat fills my ears again. This time steady and strong.

The pendant dulls to the silver it faded to in the library. Samantha pulls the brown leather tome from her bag, flipping past the center and stopping at a page toward the back. She leans over the book on the table, her hair falling around her face.

Ping.

I pull my cell from my pocket.

Den.

We have a problem, brother.

What's up?

Anjelica hasn't moved on. I think she is still tracking your little blondie.

Her name is Samantha, Denver.

Okay, she is still keeping tabs on SAMANTHA.

How do you know?

I tracked another of her scouts down this morning after you left. His scent had lingered at her house. By the time I caught up with him he was back in the forest. He wasn't very talkative and now he's mute. Silent as the grave ??

What would she be tracking Samantha for?

Lew... maybe she is more than just a green witch???

What are you talking about?

I traced her family tree a little closer, her grandmother was a higher-level witch. Not sure what type. The details were pretty vague. No photos either. Might be worth having the conversation with her about it?

No way, leave her out of this.

Brother . . .

No, Den. Not happening!

I am aware being bonded to a low-level witch is worse than a slow death but at least ask. Maybe there is a reason your bond snapped with her? Maybe there is more to Little Miss Sunshine than meets the eye?

She is absolutely like watching sunshine. Like the dappled kind that filters through the sheer white curtains on a warm day when she is quiet. Like the blazing burst of dawn's light when she smiles.

The light to my darkness. Urgh . . .

Lewis? Where did you go?

What, Den?

Stop thinking about sunshine. ??

I may hate witches, but this is different. She's a student. And, from what I can tell, a non-practicing Wiccan. She's basically human. Does she even realize what she is? She certainly doesn't act like any witch I have ever met.

Shut up, brother. And the answer is still no. I am not dragging her into this.

She's just a witch, Lewis. What does it matter if you lose the bond to her anyway?

What is that supposed to mean?

The Council would never allow it. You know this. Use her for her magic and move on.

God, you are an absolute ass sometimes, Denver. She is not something you can use and throw away when you're done!

Not even if it breaks your curse? Think about it, Lewis.

I tap the lock button and throw my cell back into my backpack. If Anjelica is keeping tabs on Samantha, I am not letting her out of my sight. I don't care what type of witch she is. And hell will freeze over before I let my brother or anyone else use her up and toss her away.

Denver is trying to stay practical and uninvolved, but I draw the line at stabbing my mate in the back like she is worth nothing. No matter what it may cost me later down the line. Samantha is mine to protect, whether she likes it or not. I glance to her table.

She is gone.