Chapter 3 #2
Rogue looked between them, his expression unreadable. “Mystics are celestials.”
“They’re gods?” Sammy blurted.
“No, not gods.” Rogue chuckled under his breath. “More like superpowered mages, but their magic is older, deeper. Some say they’re connected to the very roots of the supernatural world.”
That sounded a hell of a lot like a god to him.
“They’re immortal, and essentially indestructible,” Rogue continued, his tone softening with a sort of reverence. “Yes, Dominic is dangerous, but he isn’t evil.” He paused and huffed out a quiet laugh. “Although, some in the Ministry would consider him a necessary evil.”
“Meaning?” Dylan insisted when he didn’t elaborate.
Rogue laughed again and tapped a knuckle under his mate’s chin. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“Asshole,” Dylan responded, his tone playful and full of affection.
Sammy averted his eyes, feeling like an intruder to a private moment.
While he also wanted to know what Rogue meant by the cryptic statement, he recognized that the conversation had reached its end. Since he had learned more in the last three minutes than he had in the previous three days, he bit his tongue and didn’t press the issue.
The vampire had given him a lot to think about, yet nothing he’d said sounded like a deterrent. If anything, it had further strengthened his conviction that Dominic was the only one who could help him.
“Why do you want to know about him?” Rogue asked as he passed his credit card across the counter.
Sammy took it with a strained smile and swiped it through the reader. “Just curious.”
That was at least partially true.
“Where did you even hear his name?”
“Around.” Vague, but again, not an outright lie.
“Sammy?” Dylan asked, cocking his head to study him.
He hitched his smile so bright that he probably looked deranged. Then he passed the card back and pushed the boxes to the edge of the counter.
“Have fun in New Orleans! If you’re not going to eat the tarts tonight, be sure to refrigerate them.”
“Sammy,” Dylan repeated, his tone sharper, more insistent. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Thankfully, Rogue stepped in, saving him from having to invent a reason to retreat to the kitchen.
“Come on, bello. We’re going to be late.”
Dylan searched Sammy’s face, and whatever he found must have convinced him because he sighed deeply and nodded. “Thanks for the desserts.”
Sammy gripped the edge of the countertop to stop his hands from shaking. “Anytime. I hope your friends like them.”
The couple turned to leave then, and he had just started to relax when Dylan whirled back around to face him.
“Look, it’s obvious something is going on with you, and if you don’t want to tell me…well, that sucks, but I get it. If you change your mind, call me, okay? That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”
He felt simultaneously touched and racked with guilt by Dylan’s concern. While he considered himself friendly with most of the town, he hadn’t made too many real connections since relocating to Hunters Hollow. As such, the relationships he had formed meant everything to him.
If he asked, he knew Dylan would draw a line in the sand and add his flag to Sammy’s, and that was exactly why he couldn’t tell him. His mother could be unpredictable at the best of times, but cornered, she became downright feral.
He wouldn’t drag someone he cared about into her crosshairs.
“Thank you.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds longer before Dylan finally dipped his head and turned away.
Sammy took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench as he watched them disappear through the door. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to have someone by his side, someone who knew the whole story and still chose to face the threat with him.
He had no doubt his friends would do just that. They would rally around him and face the fire head-on, but he couldn’t risk them. He wouldn’t.
Once or twice, he had even reconsidered involving Dominic. Only the reality of his situation stopped him from calling and canceling his request.
He didn’t have the skills, the resources, or even the time to track down his mother on his own, but Dominic had magic.
That new detail might tip the scales in his favor.
The wolf could clearly take care of himself, and he might be one of the few people who could hold his own against someone like Valerie Halloway.
Besides, Sammy just needed to find her. After that, he would deal with whatever came next—alone.
He was getting ahead of himself, though. First, he had to figure out how to convince the alpha to return his phone calls. He didn’t relish the idea of spilling his guts in a voicemail, but he had to say something, preferably without coming off as dramatic or hysterical.
Sighing, he glanced at his phone again. Still dark. Still silent.
Whatever. He’d figure it out later. Right then, he needed to focus on his customers.
The Cherry on Top didn’t have waitstaff—counter service only—but he liked to wander through the tables, greet new patrons, and check in with his regulars. Sure, he had talent in the kitchen, but in Hunters Hollow, respect counted for a hell of a lot more than a decent cupcake.
Taking a deep breath, he tugged at the ends of his flannel shirt and adjusted the sleeves. Then he pulled his shoulders back, pasted on a smile, and turned to face the dining room.
Only…the bakery was empty.
Sammy tilted his head, a frown forming at the corners of his mouth as he stared out at the vacant tables. Many held the remnants of recent use. A coffee mug. A saucer dotted with crumbs. A half-eaten danish.
Had he been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed them leave? And why all at once? Had something happened outside?
“What the hell?” he muttered to himself, his gaze flickering toward the front windows.
“If you want to know something, you should ask me yourself.”
Sammy yelped, his voice ringing throughout the bakery, and leapt back from the counter like he’d been electrocuted.
Standing at least a foot taller than him and dressed all in black, the stranger appeared from seemingly nowhere, materializing on the other side of the counter.
He had his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his leather jacket, but there was an intensity about him, a presence that took up more space than seemed logical.
Glossy, almost metallic, eyes the color of polished copper stared back at him, shadowed by a heavy brow ridge and high cheekbones.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, chuckling nervously and placing a hand over his racing heart. “You startled me. Welcome to Cherry on Top.”
The stranger didn’t respond. He just stared, his eyes piercing into Sammy as if trying to peer into his soul.
He was handsome in a wild, dangerous kind of way. Intense, yes, but objectively gorgeous with a warm cinnamon complexion that contrasted his icy demeanor. His dark hair had been secured at the nape with an elastic band, but a thick strand had escaped to curl around his neck.
A detail Sammy found highly distracting for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
Swallowing thickly, he took another step back, putting more distance between them. “Can I get you anything?”
The male opened his mouth, but instead of a coffee or pastry order, a dark, ominous growl spilled from his parted lips. Low and rumbling, it reverberated around the room like distant thunder, sending a shiver up Sammy’s spine and making the hair on his arms stand on end.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
The growling stopped, and the stranger crooked his head to the side. Then a slow, cocksure smile quirked one side of his mouth.
“And yet, trouble found you anyway.”
“Who are you?” But even as the words left his mouth, a part of him already knew.
“Guess,” the male taunted.
Sammy’s breath caught, and he reached for the counter behind him to steady himself. “Dominic Rivas.”