Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rafael
Tearing myself away from Samantha is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Every urge in my body screams to stay close to her. The inexplicable pull I’ve felt toward her from the moment I laid eyes on her dancing at my club has increased tenfold.
I need to find her witch friend and have a little chat.
Good thing I let my obsession run wild and included her in the PI’s inquiry.
Too bad I didn’t dig into things a little further.
I didn’t want to intrude on Samantha’s privacy too much and only asked for the phone numbers and addresses of the people she spent most of her time with.
The call rings a couple of times.
“What do you want, vamp?” Her tone is hostile, but she did pick up.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I have my ways,” she says.
“We need to talk.” I expect her to protest, but to my surprise, I hear her sigh and something thumps in the background.
“Fine. Meet me at Black Cat in an hour.” She hangs up before I can reply. I’m sure she’s trying to piss me off and force me to call her again for the address. Witches love their power plays. Joke’s on her because I already know she works at the little witchy shop in the artist district.
While driving, I place another call to Josh. My second-in-command is very accomplished, and it doesn’t take long to hand over running the Lair to him.
One by one, I call through all my businesses and make sure they’ll stay running smoothly. I run them myself out of boredom, but now that I don’t need to distract myself from Samantha anymore, I’m clearing my calendar permanently.
There’s one more call on my list, but this one I hesitate to make. Still, it can’t be avoided.
“Do you have eyes on her?” I ask when the call picks up.
“Not personally,” comes the cold reply, and I bite back a growl.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, Rafael. I know where she is.”
“And?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about her.”
“For fuck’s sake, Santiago.” This time, I can’t help but snap at him.
“I’ll let you know if there’s a change,” he says and hangs up. I debate calling back and ripping him a new one, but it’d be useless. If he even deigned to pick up a second time.
My fangs press against my lower lip and I force myself to breathe.
The habit is calming, an instinct that gets carried through the transformation.
We still need air, but way less than humans.
It’s like hunger. You won’t technically die without blood, but lack of sustenance doesn’t result in anything pleasant.
At least I can trust that Santiago will keep me updated if anything comes up. The last thing I need is Patricia finding out about Samantha. That would end in bloodshed.
My bitch of a maker is the only reason I didn’t chase Samantha harder. Patricia has an uncanny ability to pop up every time I find even a shred of happiness in my life. And since Samantha was pretty adamant in her denial that we had anything going on between us, I didn’t press hard.
Now, though… I’ll find a way to fucking kill my maker if it comes to that.
And Santiago will help.
I park the car and get out. This part of the city is full of little cafés, small shops, street artists, and anything crafty. Black Cat stands out amidst all the colors and I head over, not caring that my car is in a restricted zone. This won’t take long.
A little bell announces my entrance to the shop and Thea looks up from the counter. Her expression is tight and her fingertips are an even deeper purple.
“To what do I owe this displeasure?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively.
“We need to discuss some ground rules,” I reply.
She snorts. “Good one.”
“I’m not kidding, witch. I won’t allow this”—I wave a hand between us—“to make things harder for Samantha.”
“You might be high on the pecking order, Mr. Moretti, but you don’t dictate what I do.” She squares her shoulders and I sense weight behind her words. It intrigues me. I assumed that she was a hedge witch, but I might have been wrong.
Narrowing my eyes, I take her in more closely as I walk over. Outwardly, nothing about her has changed, but the weight of her presence is different now. Did she conceal herself at my club?
A snarl threatens to break free. It’s my territory and I’ve drained witches for smaller infractions. Thea raises an eyebrow at me, not backing up an inch, and I rein in my irritation.
The club is my territory. This shop is hers. And I came here to make sure we could play along nicely for Samantha’s sake. Keeping that thought at the forefront of my mind, I force my tone to be calm.
“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m saying we need to find a way to coexist.”
“But—”
“Whatever Samantha is going through, she needs our support, not us bickering and trying to poison each other.”
Thea’s arms relax, and she slumps down on a chair. Her hostile expression morphs into resignation. “She didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
She shakes her head. “If she didn’t, I won’t either.
” It looks like she comes to a decision and meets my gaze head-on.
Brazen show of force, showing that she’s not worried about me compelling her.
“Come back when you have an inkling of what the fuck you are talking about and then we’ll talk.
” Something flashes in her eyes and she rubs her temples.
“It won’t work if she doesn’t tell you…” she mumbles and blinks, her vision clearing.
“What are you talking about?” I snarl.
“Nothing. Get out of my shop, vampire. You are no longer welcome here.”
Her banishment is gentle but strong. I find myself moving toward the door before I can blink. Just when I reach the door, she throws something at me and I catch the little pouch.
“You’ll need that. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” she says.
I don’t bother fighting her and stride to my car while I look inside the pouch. It holds a key.
What the fuck is that witch up to?